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I like to think of the commute as a sacred act. There is something profound in its repetition.
jazz in the speakers
snow on the windshield
let’s go!
In a way, it mirrors life itself. Commutes contain constant change, and yet nothing really ever changes. Traffic ebbs and flows, leaves turn and fall, but you always end up in the same place.
the fallen branches
of a storm
just missed
My journey would begin with a quick drive through the fields of suburbia. The road was narrow, but the sights reassuring.
the morning opens
an icy fog
and a frozen field
After a short while, I’d take the entrance to the glorious highway. Three lanes and buttressed with pines—everything a road should be.
a jungle of mist
yet under clear skies
i drive
There was often traffic at the entrance, as this was a road where many would convene. Frustrating to be sure, but like everything I would let it pass.
a cozy road
lined with trees
on a cold winter’s morning
The traffic always lifted, as if by magic. It was here that I could truly enjoy my prayer.
a swirl, a flick, a dance
the wisps of snow
above the tarmac
Somewhere on that road was the sliver of a tree towering right above a powerline. It leaned out into the road and, lonely in its day to day existence, wanted to greet the passersby as familiar colleagues. I always gave that tree a friendly smile.
a radio tower and clouds
on a mountain
of trees
I could drive down that highway forever, but all things must end.
a smile across my face
the tips
begin to change
My journey brought me to a one lane road that starts with a foray under railroads.
i glide past
the bushes
reach out to touch
This one lane road was full of stop and go traffic. But it had myriad sights along the way to keep my attention somewhat piqued.
as quick
as a snap
the summer rain
There was a particular stretch of road that contained three traffic lights, one immediately after another. Were you to hit one, you’d get stuck behind all three. But occasionally, when I was able to time it just right…
a contented sigh
and the sky
smiles back
peering through the window
there is nothing
but cold
The Return is always more precious. Your tasks done for the day, all that remains is home. And returning home is very much like falling—all you’ve got to do is embrace gravity’s pull.
The walk from my work to my car was always sublime. Short, but important. A reminder of the grandeur of nature.
i look up
and the leaves,
they’re dancing!
The path was always swept and the way clear, but I loved to meander to the car park.
like a canvas
i inhale
the sky
an orange glow
in stasis
the world hangs
Oft times I’d stop at the door of my car and admire the world. The rustling of leaves, a gentle breeze, and I had nothing at all to do—glorious!
take a moment and breathe
the snow falls all around me
i guess it’s time to go
darkness descends
with a warm breeze
is this not autumn?
To drive a night was a different prospect altogether.
the dark of night
the light of high beams
and a flurry of leaves
the clouds
lumber to the
edge of night
Within the metal box of a car, I was separated just enough from the rest of the world for it to be eerie. Calming, but unnerving at the same time.
howling wind and
the pitter patter of rain
and all I hear is humming
the rain
and the wipers
and a silent car
Perhaps the most memorable night was the last. I took a long walk round before driving home.
the stillness
right after sunset
on a snowy green
Commutes are sacred things. And this sacred ritual I’ll cherish for the rest of my life.
a last glimpse
snow covered
a breath and a smile