The “tent” of intention (Waters of March #2)


“A stick, a stone, It’s the end of the road,
It’s the rest of a stump, It’s a little alone . . . “

“É pau, é pedra, é o fim do caminho
É um resto de toco, é um pouco sozinho . . .”



Those are the opening lines of “Waters of March”,  a song I adopted as a prompt to respond to in writing during my time “camping along its waters”.

That was my intention.


I’m now checking my “tent”—something I thought I could imagine myself into—the state of mind of a camper or hiker—
someone who has packed lightly, only with provisions for survival and maybe a notebook, sketchbook or something to read,
free from distractions and excessive input that distance one from their internal springs of energy.

I look forward to this but . . . I may leave it aside for another time and just go take a walk with my camera . . . right where I am.


It turns out that one’s plans are often like the weather—clouds in the sky that don’t necessarily bring rain.

Incidentally, those rains, so much part of the inspiration for “Waters of March” have not been showing up—there’s a drought in Brazil (like here in California)!


Rain, drought, whatever the season brings . . . I will keep my plans packed and ready to go (some other time).





Did any of this make sense or sound familiar to you?  I don’t often reveal the tosses and turns of my own life, but I do want to explore, as “Waters of March” does in a down-to-earth listing way, life’s wide range of everyday: stick, stone, thorn in the hand, on and on, all that it is—loss and gain—when seen in its entirety, taken with a sense of  C’est la vie*, acceptance, wonder and joy.


*C’est la vie is a way of acknowledging something less than ideal that has to be accepted because “that’s just the way life is.”

 . . .


Until next time,


(Coincidentally,  “March” or “Março” in Portuguese is pronounced “marso”)







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