My Crazy Circles

 Today, as I did my crazy circles, I went over the past year while walking round and round and round.

Just after lockdown began last year, in March, I began my walks around my neighbourhood.  My really lovely semi urban hood. As I learned the different paths and windy streets of the hilly area, I marveled at the unimpeded views of the Bay and San Francisco, the Golden Gate Bridge, and Marin Headlands. I enjoy the changing of the seasons displayed in lovely gardens  and tree lined streets.I  feel blessed indeed to have this at my feet, so to speak.  In my wanderings  last year I also discovered a track nearby and have blogged about it.  I still go there, especially when there is inclement weather.  Somehow I find the walking round and round and round very soothing.  I don't have headphones, I don't listen to podcasts, books, or music. Round and round I go looking at the asphalt move under my feet.  The grassy area is well maintained and lovely trees surround the field. I have met masked walkers and dogwalkers and ball players and skateboard folks and workout fanatics and new parents pushing strollers and we greet each other from correct social distances.  Nice to see humans still out there. There was a time last year when even the field was closed to us.  Then when it reopened we couldn't go at all because of the smoke from the fires. That lasted longer than the total lockdown.

Today I went because it is much cooler than it has been and tomorrow I have cataract surgery, and, as I said, the circles calm me. 

Now here's the thing, cataract surgery is not uncommon, probably one of the most common surgeries for the aging population, along with hip and knee replacements.  However, I have glaucoma and have had several eye surgeries - trabulectomies they are called.  Apparently this makes the cataract surgery somewhat more complicated. So round and round and round I go.  I trust my surgeon, I trust my crazy circles.  And, hopefully, I will see my beautiful surroundings more clearly. 

Random thoughts, unrelated to pandemics

 

What have these two pictures to do with my thoughts.  I will tell you.

I grew up in Johannesburg - no mountains, no rivers.  The minedumps are what constitute my memories. Large flat topped gold/sandy dust covered enormous dumps.  Flying in years later I saw them  covered in sparse patches of green grass.  

Years later I lived on Kibbutz Ein Dor situated in the Jezreel Valley - the lower Galilee. Mt. Tabor is in the above photos.  Wherever I went on the kibbutz, from my cottage to the fields, to the dining room, to the childrens' houses - Mt. Tabor was always smiling on us, always there - a Mona Lisa.  The Arab Village of Daburiyah  nestles around her feet.  A road winds up to a monastery and the Church of the Transfiguration.  It is here that Devorah the prophetess promised victory over Sisera. It is near Nazareth, and quite close to Tiberias. (Everything in Israel is quite close.) Sitting in the gardens of a kibbutz house one looks out at the glorious Jezreel Valley, a patchwork of fields, dotted with settlements. Gentle rolling hills in the spring covered in green and lupine, red poppies, an abundance of flowers, pink and white almond blossoms. Followed by  the comes the season of platinum and gold.  Fields of wheat and sorghum.  Then the harvest and the brown earth.  And always, there is Mt. Tabor.

And the above, the view from my back door.  Mt. Tamalpais.  Always there, sometimes a sharp silhouette, sometimes enshrouded,  always breathtaking sunsets.  There, ever present, blessing us with her presence. The Sleeping Lady, sacred and holy land to many Native American Tribes. A Mountain of legends and beauty.  She has sustained me throughout this strange time.l

As I walked on my crazy circles today, my settled on these two most precious and special mountains that have graced my life. And for them, I give thanks