What has man of his own to give to his fellow-man, but his own thoughts and feelings, and his observations so far as they are modified by his own thoughts and feelings?
Samual Taylor Coleridge, "Literary Remains, Volume 2"
It was not a day which began especially favourably. I had been awake for two hours in the middle of the night. The neuropathy in my lower limbs had been infernal. The hemp CBD did little if anything to reduce the pain. It was only the prescription Celebrex which provided some relief. But when I crawled out of bed - and crawl is not a metaphor - after eight o'clock my posture and stance were a distortion. I could easily have succumbed to Tylenol Arthritis as I was formerly accustomed but I am intent to use of all four bottles of CBD before abandoning the naturopathic remedy. As I disjointedly prepared my breakfast and fulfilled my other matutinal habits, the bends and buckles became less prevalent.
Though the weather forecast was for sunshine the sky was grey. The bicycle jaunt to Bayfront Park fulfilled my need for exercise but I hadn't any interest to linger there. Privately I was fuming about the failure to receive requested correspondence from a business associate. I persisted to excuse the delay and to encourage patience (for which I am admittedly not known). Nonetheless upon my return to the condominium I sent a follow-up email to which - several hours later - I can thankfully report a reply.
Meanwhile I set myself upon the beach. There were few others there already; and subsequently only one chap besides myself. Prior to the evaporation of the crowd I was joined for conversation by an elderly gentleman who had been sitting with this brother, staring at the sea. The gentleman and I have conversed on prior occasions. It is perhaps evidence of our authentic relationship that it laughingly concluded today by him saying that he should have known that, as a lawyer, I was full of shit.
The sky had cleared and the sun was hot but apparently the beach traffic was deterred. With the advent of daylight savings time the sun naturally remains in the sky considerably longer than previously. It was pushing six o'clock before I retired from the beach. A gentleman was negotiating the knobs of the barbecue as I passed.
Before returning to the apartment played the grand piano. An acquaintance materialized with her son, his wife and their 8-year old son to listen. The little boy is himself a pianist. He treated us to a performance which I assured him was full of promise. The young family members leave tomorrow to return to Toronto. The boy said he regretted having to depart.
The sea today was murky. I swam briefly. Did not attempt to walk upon the shore today, just too fatigued. I missed watching the lip of foam roll onto the shore followed by its map of salty clouds on the beachhead. It's more magical on a sunny day in any event.
Though the weather forecast was for sunshine the sky was grey. The bicycle jaunt to Bayfront Park fulfilled my need for exercise but I hadn't any interest to linger there. Privately I was fuming about the failure to receive requested correspondence from a business associate. I persisted to excuse the delay and to encourage patience (for which I am admittedly not known). Nonetheless upon my return to the condominium I sent a follow-up email to which - several hours later - I can thankfully report a reply.
Meanwhile I set myself upon the beach. There were few others there already; and subsequently only one chap besides myself. Prior to the evaporation of the crowd I was joined for conversation by an elderly gentleman who had been sitting with this brother, staring at the sea. The gentleman and I have conversed on prior occasions. It is perhaps evidence of our authentic relationship that it laughingly concluded today by him saying that he should have known that, as a lawyer, I was full of shit.
The sky had cleared and the sun was hot but apparently the beach traffic was deterred. With the advent of daylight savings time the sun naturally remains in the sky considerably longer than previously. It was pushing six o'clock before I retired from the beach. A gentleman was negotiating the knobs of the barbecue as I passed.
Before returning to the apartment played the grand piano. An acquaintance materialized with her son, his wife and their 8-year old son to listen. The little boy is himself a pianist. He treated us to a performance which I assured him was full of promise. The young family members leave tomorrow to return to Toronto. The boy said he regretted having to depart.
The sea today was murky. I swam briefly. Did not attempt to walk upon the shore today, just too fatigued. I missed watching the lip of foam roll onto the shore followed by its map of salty clouds on the beachhead. It's more magical on a sunny day in any event.
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