fast and ferryous

The ferry is late. The captain announced that he'll go as fast as he can but, the best he can do is still late. The bus was late getting to the ferry. I willed the driver to speed. I didn't mind getting rocked off my seat.

We arrived with time to spare. I walked in the sun to the walk-on passenger waiting area. Head down, I focused on the toting task: office on my back, wardrobe in one hand, yoga mat in the other. To my side I heard the quick patter of footsteps running in the opposite direction. I figured someone was late, for something...

Shortly after, two cop cars raced in the same direction. A throng of on-lookers followed with their gaze. I turned, taking direction from their eyes and spotted a man walking briskly on the beach below. I assumed he was the culprit. Strange that he was walking - isn't it more common to run from the law? Perhaps his blistery escape burned him out. I can relate; I've made the same mistake - not spreading my energy out for the long run.

The policeman was running. Ahead of him the hooded culprit turned left and scaled up the rocky bank. With sirens blaring, the other car headed him off. The chase was over. We boarded the ferry.

I'm heading back to Vancouver, to complete the second weekend of the Level One course. The first weekend infused my practice with mindfulness. I've had a wonderful few days with my brother and sister-in-law. What a pleasure to walk in nature, to sit in stillness, to read under the sun, and to be alone. I love being in the company of kindred souls. I also savour my solitary time.

I spent my first solo morning immersed in a sutra-inspired practice. So moved by the reading, I transcribed the sutra and poured my emotions onto paper. I folded this special note and tucked it into my back pocket. I lost it on route to the Sunshine Coast. Bummed by the loss of my next class plan - I blamed my awkwardly small jean pockets. A few thoughts later I pondered how excited I would be to find a handwritten sutra and poem. It's somewhere out there. Perhaps it's in a garbage can, or someone's pocket ... I hope it is deep.