5:30AM and I'm barely awake as I go out to see what this morning promises--running shorts and running shoes and a t-shirt grabbed from the back of a chair. The temperature today will reach 95 degrees or more here in Portland. I head up toward Forest Park, while the sun prepares for the grand entrance. From the bridge I can see Mt. St. Helens,Mt. Adams, what I think is the tip of Mt. Rainier and the ranges in between all purply-dark in the fast disappearing pre-dawn.
The sun claws with orange fingers at the trees while I breathe in the gumbo of flower, leaf, earth and wind that fills my nostrils. Nobody out on the street yet--I am happy despite being foggy from last night's wine and an afternoon spent doing legal research at the local branch of the library. Dry, yet lethal law on unlawful debt collection. Today I will write up my analysis and shoot the infor and the case law over to the attorney by e-mail. I'm also working on civil commitment appeals--people do some astonishing things when the mind walks down those dark and lonely roads.
Mt. St Helens reminds me of Mt Fuji this morning.
I arrive at the meadow and, as so often happens, I wish I had a notebook to write the thoughts that dart across my mind like frightened deer.
I go to the private, isolated space I've found and disrobe. I do the yogic excercise, the breath of fire, for several minutes and then I just stand, feeling the wind on my body. I dress and head back to the trail leading to the main trail.
There are a few runners out--a couple, man and woman in early 30s--three tall, blonde women, leggy and buff, reminding me that I've been alone too long.
I head home to shower and dress--I walk up on the heights on the way back to say hello to Mt. Hood and the cityn spread out below--the Fremont Bridge catching the glitter of the rising sun, cars, trucks, trains beginning to rush about...the big houses up here are quiet.
A girl, aged 13 or so, comes out on the porch of one of the big houses carrying her siamese cat and a glass of orange juice. She wears only her underwear and a too-small t-shirt. She looks at the sun and notices me as I scurry by. She smiles a mona lisa at me.
Commuters are now starting to drive down the hill to the city. I drink from the large, stone waterfountain that has a section fro horses--built back then y'see.
For some reason I think of Ken Kesey, I think of my new theater project, adapting "The Fall of the Hosue of Usher", I think of what it would be like to be a 13-year old girl greeting the dawn with her siamese cat.
I resolve to start drawing/sketching again. There are things I allow to fade away, and I need to add to my notebooks of sketches and stories--I used to teach/facilitate middle school kids creating their own comic books and graphic novels--how did that slip away?
So home, yogurt and grilled cheese sandwich for breakfast--I take out a frozen stek for my stir-fry tonight.
The sun pales as it rises--I hold on to the orange glow I inhaled with my breath of fire.