Sacred Spaces

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Sacred is the space where people go to observe the element bigger than themselves. The water, wind, and air at the lake where I walk seem to know. This is sacred ground. The body of water at our lake cleanses the heart of the city. The air over it provides the playground for the birds and fowl here. I’ve seen many of those birds on the sidelines returning to the ground. It is the circle of life. Appreciation for this species is given as I pass by each bird that has passed. The wind sends the cotton wood seeds scooting across the ground and water. The sailboats drift by giving ripples as cause and effect to the movement of particles.

People pass by either on boat or fishing along the rocks ready to receive the flesh of the fish as their right to energy from the sun. They jog and ride and skate and board, and sail or wind sail. They ride waves attached to kites. They ride carts powered by the wind in the kite sail over the ground. All around the earth gives and gives and gives. Some walk dogs, others feed the cats, and babies ride as parents push strollers so they can jog.

The trees offer shade. The water offers a cool breeze. The shine of the ripples allude to energy as does the wind whipping through the tree leaves. Ducks and geese parade on the edges of the water. Some camp out in the park near the overloaded dumpsters. People food provides the goods they have become accustomed to in this place. The wind can be heard and seen flowing through the flag at the Stars and Stripes park. Thirteen to Eighteen miles per hour is the velocity of the wind and blowing mostly from the south. On the days that it shifts from the north a slight jacket remains a good friend. The colors paint exquisite backdrops. Deep blues to shades of grey, gold to deep green and tree bark, sticks, dirt and gravel all give a distinctive aroma. On the times I have walked while it is sprinkling salt and pepper spray, nature offers a baptism of water washing away the dirt and grime and offering back to God its very best…a Sacred Space.

“Let the Good Times Roll”

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I love my bike. I ride it every chance I get! I recently had a flat and took it in to get fixed. My plans have been to pick it up very soon. You see, I could learn to fix the flat on the road bike, but if I did that I would not have the pleasure of being a patron to the greatest little bike shop ever! The gentleman in the bike shop has run this business I think all his life. He is a pleasure to talk to. Very patient and kindhearted. He loves his vintage bikes that he keeps in the store. There is a museum quality to this establishment. He has a “penny farthing” chained to the light pole out on the sidewalk during the day. That is the name of the large front wheeled bikes of long ago. So much to look at and experience when I walk in. Each bike has a story, a history. I find my mind wondering where each bike has been and where it will go if ever a real girl or boy will come and buy it.

One day a lady older than I came in and had the owner tweak ┬áthe brakes to her new three-wheeler. It was a dandy! All decked out with a basket even, and a great teal color with a long flag in back. Now, she was a talker. The store owner is not. You could tell they were friends though. He was patient and she was so proud to be the owner of her trike. I could not help but include myself in the conversation and make over her new wheels. I even went outside to see it up close. She went on her way, and I went back in to pay for my ‘old giant!’ as the store owner so kindly called my fixer upper. I paid a bit to get it repaired so when this son gets home in a few months from working abroad, we can ride. We bought it from this great gentleman a few years back as a bike this son could ride at college without fear of it being stolen. (Sidenote: Our family has had 4 bikes stolen from the same college.) This big old thing has made it through unscathed. It’s big. It’s ugly green. And it is heavy!

I’ve said all that to say this. Aren’t our lives like the bikes we ride. They have known many days in the garage patiently waiting. They have known days broken apart. They have known love and affection. They have known having the air knocked out of them. They have known and experienced struggle from going up hill. But, ultimately they have known the exhilaration of flying downhill and the freedom to roam. They have also experienced the patient, gentle experienced hands of the fix-it shop owner.

Get the bike out. Fix it up and ride. “Let the good times roll.”

It’s the best part of life!