Church of doG

Sunday morning, 8:15 AM, Monon Greenway north of Indy. Romeo and I are into mile number three of our walk; we’re doing eight today. It’s unseasonably chilly. The cold air adds crispness and detail to the scents of an adolescent spring on the verge of becoming summer. The old-man tightness in my shins is subsiding. He’s settling into pace, having overcome the initial canine giddiness a walk always brings. The trail is ours.

Our gates synchronize as our bodies continue to warm. A four-four/cut time cross as six feet turn beats of footfalls to measures of weathered asphalt. There’s almost a discernable energy flowing back and forth along the leash…crackling with electricity. It’s an umbilical cord, only we’re both being fed.

Neil Finn whispers in my ear, "I hope she was...dreaming of glory, miles above the mountains and plains, free at last."

The measures turn to stanzas. We’re sweating and panting respectively. My breakfast of caffeine and endorphins has me walking tall..driven and confident. The trail crosses a four-way intersection, and we’re momentarily halted by the lights. On the curb to our left is a silver Audi S8. This car cost more than my first house.

Sitting in it is the perfect family. Dad is clutching the steering wheel at 10 and 2 as if he’s trying to wring its neck. Mom meets my gaze for a split second. Big smile from me. She takes a swig from a bottle of designer water and checks her nails. The Kiddies in the back seat don’t even see us. Both of them have eyes buried into handheld video games. All four are coifed to perfection.

The light changes, and off rolls the car. In thirty minutes they’ll be in the midst of their brethren, listening to stories of miracles. Tales of worlds better than this. Of healing the sick. Of feeding the hungry.

Zach de la Rocha screams in my ear, “Hungry people don’t stay hungry for long!!”

No, they sure don’t.

We step off the curb and continue our fugue. This is spirituality, distilled down to its essence. This is our church.