A River of Bricks

I find something comforting in the natural decay of brick streets. It speaks to both human ingenuity and the inevitability of time’s irrevocable progress simultaneously. There is always something new and wonderful, and it won’t last forever. It’s an eternal progression. I take joy not only in the brick way but in watching time take it over after it is constructed, treating it like a body of water so that it undulates in this moment with its curves and surges. The bricks above are in Annapolis, Maryland.

I am one for starting things. I have always loved sunrises more than a long day, planning more than execution, and the future more than the present. It’s said that in meditation the two chief obstacles are rehashing the past and dreaming about the future; my obstacles are mostly about dreaming. But, where would we be without the long day, execution, and the eternal present? I cannot imagine, and that is one reason why I love and appreciate diversity!

My father used to say of his beloved pottery, “It’s on loan until it breaks.” On loan from whom? Mother Earth, I posit in his absence. She gives birth to us and welcomes us back when our run is done. Every stage of the journey. creation, sustenance, dissolution, void, has a place. Fall has begun in DC in earnest with several mornings below 60°F – soon the trees will begin letting go of their leaves. And as we move into the cooler months, the spring beckons from afar.

“Beauty is the only thing that time cannot harm. Philosophies fall away like sand, creeds follow one another, but what is beautiful is a joy for all seasons, a possession for all eternity.”
– Oscar Wilde

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