Right here, right now
Where the streets have no names
Thoreau said that an early-morning walk is a blessing for the whole day. If he was right then my uncle is a truly blessed man. Weather permitting, he goes for a morning walk each day, and for the few days I was in Lami, I joined him. Walking for its own sake, without a place to be, or a time to be there, is a handy way to fool the mind of a “tomorrow-junky” to live in the moment. I’m prone to peaking around the corner rather than enjoying the spot I’m in. Thinking about tomorrow is literally my occupation. I’m a pro when it comes to “what’s next” and an amateur at appreciating “right now” – but a long walk to nowhere will get me there. Our path covers 6 or 7 kilometers (about 4 miles), none of the roads are paved, the scenery is green, there are as many animals as people along the way, and the sun is just warm enough to coax us to whatever side of the road is shadiest. You could take the same route everyday but no walk would ever be the same because it’s the conversation and fresh thoughts that make it new. As my uncle pointed out when we crossed a small bridge to traverse a stream, the stream under the bridge might look the same as it did yesterday but it isn’t the same… the flow of water, sediment, and vegetation makes every moment on the stream completely unique. He loves metaphor, and he thinks deeply, so the conversation is always good. He’s sensitive and philosophical in private and relentlessly funny around people. It’s like a cross between Tim Conway and Aristotle. Being alone with him is excellent. Everyone loves him for his humor, but I like his serious side, which surfaces when you get him one on one. We covered a lot of territory on our walk. He shares my love of language and writing. We both pause to admire and re-read great sentences or to dissect a pleasing turn of phrase. He’s been married longer than I’ve been alive and had a lot of good advice for a nephew who has been married exactly zero years. And we talked about my sabbatical – he seemed to understand why I was here without me having to say. It’s rare to find a great conversation, the kind you remember, but they’re out there. Get together with someone interesting, someone you trust, and then figure out how to have absolutely nowhere you need to be, and it’ll happen. I can’t, or won’t, share all the details of our conversation; the best of it belongs to that particular moment in time anyway, just like the stream under the bridge.