Yesterday’s commute home was one of the worst I’ve ever had, thanks to a deluge of rain that opened up right before I left the office. Certain parts of Downtown Albany looked like they were under a foot of water, and I prayed the Mini Cooper would glide me home. Just a few days before this I’d been perusing the local nursery, where I found the flaming celosia you see here – a late-summer show. The juxtaposition was just another product of Mercury in retrograde, or so I am telling myself in an endless quest to make sense out of nonsense.
Watching the raging currents that were once solid streets, I once again thrilled at the newness of a stretch of road I’d driven through hundreds of times, all because of a storm. Nature orchestrates a new perspective at precisely the moment we think we’ve seen it all. Happily jolted into this new experience, I remembered to go with the flow, bend with the trees, and let the river swerve around me.
“Living only for the moment, savoring the moon, the snow, the cherry blossoms and the maple leaves, singing songs, loving sake, women and poetry, letting oneself drift, buoyant and carefree, like a gourd carried along with the river current.” – Asai Ryoi, Tales of the Floating World
