Walking In Thanksgiving

Paris is deliciously easy to walk around.  Like a candy store of delights , there is always something that is  intriguing beautiful and titillating to the eyes.  Every season has its gifts to offer here, even the approaching grey cold winter months, where the sun barely seems to peek through the thick silver clouds.

My favorite time to walk aimlessly just for the pleasure is at dusk,  or just before a setting sun, if there is any sun to set, which is around 5:15 pm now.  There is a special feeling and energy in the air, that I can’t really describe with words other that to say it is provocatively spiritual and mystical.

The crispness of the cold air hitting my cheeks is reinvigorating  as I head out towards the Parc Montsouris, usually being one of the last ones in the gate before they start whistling the impending closing.    I know it takes the guards a while to shoo everyone out, so I have always made it  around except once.

The old fashion green lampposts starts to eerily glow as night draws near, casting a creamy aura around the trees, heavily blanketed by pale yellow leaves reflecting the light as in an impressionistic painting.   The trees who have already lost their leaves to bared  branches darken as the light fades  and look like they are reaching for the sky in praise and to welcome the new moon.  Mounds of freshly raked leaves of golden reddish hues sort of glimmer  too in the quarter moon.

The fall air smells earthy and musk like from the damp decaying leaves.  Some crackle under my feet.  A duck calls out his last quacks of the day, inviting others to mimic the same in unison.  A few birds twitter goodnight.

It is much quieter now, except for the  whistles denoting closing time. A few  joggers , along with others like me who  are lingering in the shadows, reluctant to leave.    As I approached the lake, the ripples left by a few ducks and geese shimmered in the light.  A flock of about 15 geese though were still nibbling grass on the hill , slowing descending to their nighttime nests.

For me, these walks afford a sanctuary of nature where I love to sing( to myself) grateful praises of thanksgiving.  Communing with God, I feel like a small child at wonder with an exhilaration of being alive  and in awe of such beauty.

Thank you God for my eyes to see, my ears to hear, my nose to smell, my mouth to taste and my healthy legs to walk and my hands to touch others is for me a joyful hymn to sing as I glide around the park.  Having these basic human gifts is an astonishing act of Grace.  Living in such a large city, I am often reminded of being grateful for these glories of an intact body that can navigate without a wheelchair or white cane.

Giving praise and thanks for these essential blessings we often take for granted is a beautiful offering of love and gratitude to our Creator.  For without any of them, life would not be the same.  Everything else is like the French say ” la cerise sur le gâteau”, or cherry on top of the cake.   Amen.