show, don't tell

this we are told, not shown in creative writing class.  

the blizzard of the - name your time frame here - is bringing out the love in us.  even as we are cut in line at the grocery store, the aisles stocked with fewer and fewer provisions.  each shopper has a beating heart, pulsing with life, blazing fire in the eyes, shrouded in mist.  shopping to fill the larder before the next storm.

this morning i rode the metro downtown to dupont circle.  i boarded, and due to the reduced number of trains, they are already packed at our stop on the redline, friendship heights, the first stop in the district.  well, not quite packed, but standing room only.  i hobble in and grab the stainless steel pole about halfway down the aisle, lean my cane against my legs.  the woman at my hip offers me her seat.  somewhere between the ages of 30 and 50, dark brown hair - some very few filaments of white - gray scarf, thick blue jacket.  'no, thanks, thank you very much,' i say, holding tight with both hands, 'this is physical therapy in daily life.'  she looks up and smiles.  'just to try to keep from falling down on the train,' i add, as if an explanation were necessary.  a woman standing next to me says, 'soon you won't have to hold on.'  her implication being, the train will get packed so tight i might even let go, feel the press of bodies all around.  

reach dupont, escalate to ground level.  i am struck by how much snow there is in the streets still, and on the sidewalks.  i call my sister, we laugh about the lack of public works, right here in the nation's capitol.  however, we agree that the novelty is worth the hassle, it would be a waste to have all those extra trucks and piles of salty sand for these rare storms of the century.  we have a military to support after all.  we will meet for lunch later (tuesdays with mary).  

then i start the long hobble to the 'friends(quaker) meeting of washington.'  it's even a long haul on dry days.  i don't make it in time for the meditation in the heated building, but i do not miss the oh-so mindful walk through snow, ice, and slush.  each step taken so carefully, as if i were rock climbing:  place my cane, lift my left foot, feel ahead - is this ice slick or is it textured?  is this snow slanted or level, firm or soft? - place the foot, move the cane; repeat.  

i have been to several meditation retreats where the long 45 minute half-lotus mind-melds alternate with 'walking meditation' periods of equal length.  spread out like a big crossword puzzle, yogis pace their words back and forth:  a long word, equanimity, or a shorter one disquiet.   have i ever been as focused on retreat as this?  doubtful.  however, at one point i do go down, lost perhaps in thought.  (of my new sweetheart, maybe, or the song we are practicing together - falling slowly).  not slush, not ice, just too narrow a path, i kind of lean/fall down with my left hand, the soft snow jumping from my fingers as it goes toward the earth - or sidewalk, or shrubbery, or pile of dog-doo, i'll never learn, didn't reach it - my knees kind of found a place of balance before i completely collapsed.  two young men dashed over, 'are you okay sir?'  yes, they looked even younger than me, if you can believe it.  'i'm good, i'm great.'  wrapping my hands around the cane, planting my feet wide to raise myself.  what a beautiful day i think, i feel. 

this earth, warm beneath the shivering blanket of snow.  the people, warm beneath their shivering cold jackets and fingers.  just looking for the intersection of 'i and thou,' and finding it in the strangest of places.