{"id":204,"date":"2010-07-14T19:36:38","date_gmt":"2010-07-14T19:36:38","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.katrinakenison.com\/2010\/07\/14\/otherwise\/"},"modified":"2010-07-14T19:36:38","modified_gmt":"2010-07-14T19:36:38","slug":"otherwise","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/otherwise\/","title":{"rendered":"Otherwise"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/span><\/span>We bike seven and a half miles up the road from our house, past hay fields and horses and silent, collapsing barns.\u00a0 It is my favorite route from home, a long, lovely panorama of wild gardens,\u00a0 moss-covered stone walls, old country houses set low to the ground, rolling pastures and sun-dappled woods.\u00a0 The morning air is patchy, stunningly hot in the clear stretches, deliciously cool in the greeny darkness of shade, the trees arching over the road like a canopy as we sail along beneath, single file, each keeping our own counsel.\u00a0 At the end of the road and the top of the steepest hill:\u00a0 breakfast.\u00a0 Blueberry pancakes with maple syrup and wonderful coffee.\u00a0 Summer food, served outdoors. The picnic table with its broad green umbrella; the New York Times, sticky with syrup; old friends sitting across from us, telling the stories that always make us laugh.\u00a0 The voluptuous apricot day lilies with their pale yellow throats and lobed anthers, each ruffled bloom as sensual as a centerfold.<\/p>\n

Sated, we ride through town to the pond, park the bikes, peel off shorts and sweaty tee shirts, swim out.\u00a0 Dark deep water, the silvered reflection of clouds on the still surface, the rim of trees along the far shore. \u00a0 Floating on my back, suspended in stillness with my face turned to the sun, I know exactly where I am:\u00a0 awake to this one moment of pure awareness. \u00a0Inhabiting the impeccable, ephemeral present.<\/p>\n

Later, by the white light of the computer, I read a friend\u2019s email. This time, her chemo isn\u2019t working.<\/p>\n

All night I lie awake in bed, staring at a shadow on the ceiling and thinking about miracles.\u00a0 Who gets one? I wonder. And in the morning, I take books from the shelf, in search of a poem I read years ago, foretelling the future.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Otherwise<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I got out of bed<\/p>\n

on two strong legs.<\/p>\n

It might have been<\/p>\n

otherwise.\u00a0 I ate<\/p>\n

cereal, sweet<\/p>\n

milk, ripe, flawless<\/p>\n

peach. It might<\/p>\n

have been otherwise.<\/p>\n

I took the dog uphill<\/p>\n

to the birch wood.<\/p>\n

All morning I did<\/p>\n

the work I love.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

At noon I lay down<\/p>\n

with my mate. It might<\/p>\n

have been otherwise.<\/p>\n

We ate dinner together<\/p>\n

at a table with silver<\/p>\n

candsticks. It might<\/p>\n

have been otherwise.<\/p>\n

I slept in a bed<\/p>\n

in a room with paintings<\/p>\n

on the walls, and<\/p>\n

planned another day<\/p>\n

just like this day.<\/p>\n

But one day, I know,<\/p>\n

it will be otherwise.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0–Jane Kenyon<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

We bike seven and a half miles up the road from our house, past hay fields and horses and silent, collapsing barns.\u00a0 It is my favorite route from home, a long, lovely panorama of wild gardens,\u00a0 moss-covered stone walls, old country houses set low to the ground, rolling pastures and sun-dappled woods.\u00a0 The morning air […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":15183,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[20,33,39,40,44,14,15],"tags":[78,235,295,318],"class_list":{"0":"post-204","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-books","8":"category-impermanence-soul-work","9":"category-midlife","10":"category-mindfulness","11":"category-reading","12":"category-soul-work","13":"category-writing-and-reading","14":"tag-awareness","15":"tag-jane-kenyon","16":"tag-mindfulness-2","17":"tag-otherwise","18":"entry"},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/10\/600x600.png?fit=600%2C600","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/204","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=204"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/204\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/15183"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=204"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=204"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=204"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}