Monday, September 12, 2016


Inspired from this morning's walk.

I was on one of my early before-work breathtaking walks along the impressive Columbia River.  Although I walk this 2.5-mile stretch each morning, it's never quite the same.  The sunrise over the river always seems to spotlight a different subject, such as a water crane standing proudly on a shallow rock casting its mirror-like shadow onto the river, or a bird of prey finding its early morning breakfast by making a split-second plunge down to the water with its razor-sharp deadly talons positioned downward, like a plane’s landing gear approaching a runway. The bird’s body doesn’t even get wet as it reaches down just beneath the surface of the water, grabbing its victim, then taking flight to a nearby treetop where it begins to feast on the prized catch.  Or perhaps a lone fisherman with the only boat on the river, anchored down, bobbing slowing, creating the only ripples in the calm morning waters, in hopes of pulling in a salmon before the river becomes saturated with fisherman alike. This morning, however, as I walked the pathway, nature’s spotlight was on another type of subject, less than 25-feet from where I make my u-turn and head back. 

Leaned against the fence rail, he stood there like a statue. His baggy and dirty clothes coincided with his loosely frayed waist-length dreadlocked hair. An old weathered army-green backpack with a thin nylon sleeping bag draped over the top, hung heavily off of his left shoulder. I got the impression that this was all he had.  His face was expressionless as he gazed at me when my quick-paced walk approached his somber stance.
 Without missing a beat to my step, I glanced his way and uttered a sincere and chipper, “Good morning!”  

Appearing startled that I greeted him, he meekly responded, “Good morning” in return.   

I continued the short distance to my turnaround, and headed back his way again. It was he who spoke this time. But something was different. His face was lit up with a big smile. His voice now sparked a confident note and he said, “Good morning, you have a wonderful day!” 

I smiled as I walked past him and added,  “It is a great day, isn’t it!” 

As I walked back, his change of facial expression and friendly smile stayed etched within my mind. My thoughts centered on what type of circumstances got him to where he is now, knowing, of course, that I would never have those answers.  I pondered on what I could do to help him, and I did the only thing I could think of at that moment.  I gave him a name, “Mac,” and in my mind, I sent him blessings. I envisioned light, love, and angels surrounding him.

When I came to the end of my walk, I looked out to the river and sunrise...and then said aloud, “I dedicate this day to you Mac. I hope that you find something, no matter how small, to inspire you.” 

Namaste to you Mac!


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