There has been so little time for blogging recently, so little time for paddling, so little time to just "be", it would seem. That's OK though. The places where I have needed to devote time, energy, focus, and attention have been important and meaning-filled...and so there are never regrets.
We do, however, continue to run.
The world, for the most part, is not up at 0545 hrs and the tasks of the day are still content to wait just a little longer. As we leave the house, the constellation Orion shines down on us from a zillion light years away. Sirius burns like an intense fire in the heavens. It is always a comfort. I remember, as a child, my mother and father pointing out the lights in the sky and sharing with me their names. I was blessed to have parents who encouraged me to be passionate about the world "outside" and, amongst other things, to search out and find companionship in the stars in the night sky.
We both felt the residual warmth of a very special evening with Dan Hill. We had last seen him when he played a concert in Banff, where we were living, some twenty-five years ago now. Most folks know Dan for his deeply emotive recording, Sometimes When We Touch. Now, his long, dark hair and beard, are gone. He is a fit 55-year-old who continues to "touch", in his writing, in his introspective music, and in his "journey" as a son and as a father. He has earned five Juno Awards and a Grammy. His most recent album, Intimate, is powerful and it is poignant. And he is a passionate runner.
We finished our morning run, the sun beginning to rise, with the steep hill back up to our home - thankful for the countless people in this world who have warmed, and continue to warm, our hearts and enrich our spirits. Over the years, there have been so many.
Each of you continues to make the world a better place.
Duncan.
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