I was having some anxiety that was resulting in writer's block this morning, so I went for a walk in a park that has the city water reservoir in it.

This is a picture of what would have just been an ugly concrete run-off slab if someone hadn't gotten creative with some flowers and turned it into a Buddhist altar. Every time I walk around the reservoir, I check to see what's been placed on this "altar". Sometimes it's flowers, sometimes rocks, sometimes jewelry or little toys. I've put things like coins and marbles in it myself. There's always some sort of nice surprise for people passing it to ponder.

As an exercise in being completely present in the moment, I vowed that I would walk around the reservoir until I didn't see anything new. Five thousand steps later, I was amazed at how many new things there were to see just walking around the same space over and over. For one thing, birds, dogs and people kept changing the view.

For example, one time I walked around and there were wet pawprints that weren't there the previous time. Another time, there was a hummingbird in some blackberry brambles that hadn't been there my previous time around. Then there would be a tiny red flower that I'd missed. Each time around, I'd notice at least a half dozen things that I hadn't yet noticed, despite having walked around at least a dozen times.

It turned out not to just be a good exercise in being completely present, but in recognizing that things are constantly changing, including ourselves. If things look
the same to us, it's because we're not paying attention. I hadn't realized to just what extent I'd gotten caught up in the same old thought patterns and way of seeing, or not seeing, the world around me. By the end of the walk, I felt like I'd just finally been let out of the prison of my own mind into the sunlight of the living world. It was awesome.