A voice comes to your soul saying,

Lift your foot. Cross over.

Move into emptiness

of question and answer and question.

—Rumi, The Glance

Halfway across the pedestrian bridge I halt my stride, midair. Re-aim my foot.

Hello, Woolly Bear Caterpillar.

Black and reddish-brown bristles stripe a body the size of my second toe.

I salute a fellow “eating machine.” Colder weather has amped up my appetite, too. I’m hoping to burn off a recent binge.

Now drama looms. (So much for aerobics.)

At my feet two ill-fitting planks gape, the crack one-third Woolly Bear’s length. A stream runs beneath us. [Read more…]