Musing

[written and published from Calgary]

-4C/24F, clear chilly morning, heavy fog lifted to reveal clear sky; Gusta hesitated to venture on to the lagoon ice despite the temptation of 3 gulls standing in melt water at centre ice being buzzed by a pair of geese - checking to see if the neighbourhood is fit for raising young ones

yesterday, time spent in my little memory funk was good - but once a year is enough; to those who wrote or called, many thanks for the kind wishes but that’s enough OK; I had a great lunch with my dad - a good visit, my day rounded out with calls from friends and ‘making plans . . .’, and so ended Sunday . . followed as certainly as anything is certain, came Monday

I never have a blue Monday; there are too many other moods and colours to associate with this day; this day is often about exploding joy . . that would be red and orange, this day is often about good news and that would call for a sunny yellow, this day is so much about anticipation . . . that must be a mix of green and purple and flesh tones and lovalee feelings

my Monday is here now; sometimes they come by accident; when they come do we notice or can we tell the difference between those days that matter most, those days when spectacular things happen, when enabling things happen, when good news gets delivered, when hard blows get softened? . . . Monday is the perfect pillow on which to lay our head, it is the perfect day for all the things that don't fit the other ones, this precious day called Monday

it arrived in the night without fanfare - it always does; while you are sleeping I watch it come . . I usually sleep for a few hours Sunday evening, but not for long; I stay up with it . . nursing it through the night like a flu ridden child, I coax it to work with me through the night - I love my Mondays but not quite as much as my Sunday nights . . . I love those silent night time hours

my night of solitude was undisturbed, the quiet was eerie . . beyond quiet I could have heard grass grow if it was warm enough for grass to grow; at 4 AM . . it was awesome sitting on the patio in fog eating cereal and sipping coffee . . .

Monday morning is magical, surreal . . it is the great separator from the weekend that was and the week yet to be; it will always be wash day somewhere for someone, it is like no other day of the week, it is time we gave this day more respect because we need it so much; it is time to finish what Friday didn't, it is time to get ready for Tuesday, it is the hinge between our work and our play, it is the membrane that keeps our brains from leaking out on the floor when we are not looking . . . it returns us to structure, to organization, to a clock, to a schedule after a weekend without them

as morning came, my day came, my needs and wants came . . and all I wanted to do was sleep; so I slept a while and in a while I’ll sleep a while longer . . .

this morning we work, we play, we sleep, we travel and stay put, we explore or not, we endure or inflict, we experience life happening to us, we are all part of someone else’s experience at the same time . . we don’t really appreciate the magnitude till its over or at least until it takes a rest for a while . . .

every day we run a risk; the risk that something that will happen today that will change the course of history, the course of our lives or at least the course of the near future; most often those changes come with warning, with notice, with planning, with deliberate-ness; those things get us to meetings, get us there on time to catch our flights, get us on deck, on time, on our game . . .

no one says ‘hey, I was expecting Thursday’, no one says ‘don’t bother, I’ll do that tomorrow on the weekend’ . .these are things you never hear on Monday

my Monday arrived, like a new born; it will be with me only one day . . . it is maturing fast, mid day will be here soon . . and then it will chase the sun to end it and then I'll wait a week for my Monday morn; coffee in hand . . . waiting; my work day has already begun and I am waiting on those who have not yet got it in gear this morning, but they will

Mark Kolke
226,052
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