Doug Bruns

Posts Tagged ‘dog-walking’

Reading and New Travels

In Books, Creativity, Dogs, Reading, Travel on June 5, 2014 at 6:00 am
Injured Lucy

Injured Lucy

Lucy and I have resumed our morning walks after several months of doing without. Last Fall, during a walk, she limped out of the woods, her shoulder lacerated, obviously the result of running into something. Despite two operations we could not get the gash closed and had no option but to wait it out. We applied raw honey to the wound, kept it clean, didn’t let her run and so forth. Eventually she healed. We are back to our schedule but she is considerably more cautious, and avoids that part of the woods. I keep a closer eye on her as well.

A morning walk has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. Now that I’m back at it I have a greater appreciation of the benefits to starting my day in this fashion. It is likely not a coincidence that, after resuming the routine, I am writing this and that I wrote a post last week about, indeed, the morning walk. The creative benefits of walking are well documented. “I have met with but one or two persons in the course of my life who understood the art of Walking, that is, of taking walks—who had a genius, so to speak, for sauntering….” wrote Thoreau. I have no genius for anything, but if I did, having it for the art of sauntering would be welcome.

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Daily Rituals, How Artists Work

Daily Rituals, How Artists Work

We leave this evening for Europe: Amsterdam, Copenhagen, Tallinn, St. Petersburg. Sixteen days. Whereas Carole has been concentrating on which clothes to pack, I have been thinking about what books to bring. This disparity does not frustrate either of us.  After 35 years there are no surprises and few tensions. I am bringing Lily King‘s new novel,  Euphoria.  There is no compliment of activities like a good novel married to new travels. But feeling decidedly in need of self improvement, I’m bringing along a book my friend Thatcher recommended, Daily Rituals, How Artists Work. Opening randomly, I find the chapter on Sartre, “‘One can be very fertile without having to work too much,’ Sartre once said. ‘Three hours in the morning, three hours in the evening. This is my only rule.'” Continuing the march to be a better self, I’m also bringing along Alain De Botton‘s, How Proust Can Change Your Life. (Jacket blurb from the NY Times: “A self-help manual for the intelligent person.”) I like to travel with books and feel no guilt about taking time to read them while on the road. (Indeed, I find guilt to be a generally useless and tiresome emotion and rarely invest in it.) Reading a book while in a foreign country, like seeing a movie with subtitles, enhances the experience. Thinking on Thoreau above, the ability to consistently “enhance experience” is a genius I aspire to.

Where the Fore River meets Casco Bay.

In Dogs, Life, Memoir, Nature on July 6, 2012 at 6:00 am

Sunrise, Eastern Prom, Portland

The bedroom window faces across the water due east, where the Fore River enters Casco Bay. In the winter, when the sun is late rising, I watch it come up over Bug Light in South Portland. This time of year, though, the sun is up early–5:35 this morning–and I usually miss it. Morning sun is a draw I usually can’t resist. The gulls don’t seem to be able to resist either and like water-borne roosters shout and caw at its arrival. This morning one screamed, I swear, right next to the bedroom window and in my half slumber, I thought someone was being throttled.

This morning the bedroom filled with amber light, low-angled and dappled by the water, and so I rose to it smiling. Maggie jumps off her bed when she hears me sit up. Carole and I joke that she can sense my eye-lids opening. She stretches Sphinx-like, letting out a little squeal. Then she flaps her ears, ready to get rolling. Even at nine years, she’s like a puppy in the morning, hardly able to contain herself. I know exactly how she feels.

We went to the Eastern Prom this morning, as we do most mornings. Early is better, if you like solitude with your coffee. Letting Maggie off leash, we stroll and explore. I like to stop on the bluff and look over the water toward Peaks Island and Little and Big Diamond. When I do, I remind myself not to take this for granted. It appears to me that all mornings are special, but some more than others. If the sacred is to be discovered, I bet it can be–or is, for some–best discovered in the morning.

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I’m on the road this week–family reunion, holiday, etc. This is a repost. It first appeared in April, 2010. Thanks for reading.