The Grace Walk…

how do i tell you about the grace walk?
how do i dare define it into words?
some things are so magnificent, so far reaching and so graceful that i feel clumsy at the keyboard.
but i will try. i will try, and i will do the best i can… because that is the most i can ask for.

today i walked the grace walk.

the ceiling reflection

my workplace organised a lunchtime walk from the city, into an older suburb and up to a park backing wilderness. there was a couple of hundred of us there, straggling along in a duck’s line. me and two dear friends did something graceful ~ we left the masses. found our own way there, our own way back. time to walk slowly and relish the surrounds.

we talked. about dreaming, interpretations, movies, depression, joy.
we stopped often to inspect pine cones and bark and natural delights.
we found treasures, so many treasures.
tiny purple flowers on a vine wrapping around a tree.

we sat at the park, eating bad pork sausages and white bread, gazing at bushland that made me want to ride horses.

on the way back, we dawdled.

a deliciously old street sign that i relish with my eyes

we found luminous birds feathers. peered into ramshackle gardens that made our hearts leap. and every single time we came across a flowering bush, we stopped. we smelt. we breathed them in. some that smelt of honey. some that smelt like “old ladies” as dave put it. some that didn’t smell at all, but were delicious to put your nose in. some that smelt of youthful abundance. we stayed by that tree for a long time, that youthful abundance scent distilling in us.

it was indeed magical ~ i think the colours in this picture capture the essence.

we talked about our secret selves. i am georgina, the artist by the sea. andrea is angela, the greek cafe owner.

dave is bjorn, viking forest man with muse.

and i delight in the sharing of our secret selves. i delight in walking in spring, with no cares in the world. good conversation, dear friends, a sweet stroll and miracles ~ miracles of the feathered kind, the scented kind, the spirit kind.

andrea & dave, fellow grace walk journeyers…

andrea & me, the two headed goddess!

i’m not sure how we really got back to work. i know i wasn’t meaning to walk back to the cityscraperdom. i would have been perfectly, joyously happy to keep wandering for the rest of the afternoon.

and that, my friends, is the grace walk.

when an hour becomes a holiday…