Three geese landing on a frozen pond
3/4/2026
“The Zen view is something you glimpse in passing and that comes as a surprise — to wake you to the moment and a flash of hidden truth.” Rivvy Neshama, “Recipes for a Sacred Life.”
I started running again. Yup, I stopped about 1990 because of knees and back and other life distractions. But now, with two new knees, a fused neck, and no life, I’m running.
Although running may not be the accurate description of what I do. Since I started running again, I’ve never actually gone fast enough to pass someone walking. Although there is that one time when a mom stopped to change her kid’s diaper in a stroller, and I flew past her like there was no tomorrow. Yup, you can’t train that kind of skill. Regardless, I’ve decided to stop figuring out whether I’m a runner or not. Since I yell to my wife “I’m going on a run” as I head out the door, I must be a runner. Right?
And I run when the rest of you are working or choring or shopping or something. Which is good because you might be mildly appalled by my winter running gear, which consists of knee-length baggy shorts, multi-layered cotton shirts, stocking cap pulled over the top of a baseball cap, and work gloves from the hardware store. I’m thinking this will not be the outfit for the U.S. Winter Olympic team. But wouldn’t that be something? “The Winter Olympics — Sponsored by Bob’s Hardware.”
I run on dirt or grass when I can, dodging dog poop and goose poop. It’s high-level agility work. And I try not to shuffle like an old person, but it’s challenging because… I am an old person. I tell my hips to rotate with my arm swings, and sometimes they listen but usually not. I tell my legs to relax and lift off with the ball of the foot, but then I hit a stone and am reminded that staying upright is the real challenge. So… all in all, running is tons of fun.
Ah, but then there was today.
I was running around Utah Park in Aurora, Colorado. A lovely park with tennis courts, basketball courts, baseball diamonds, a large playground, and sacred stones (think Stonehenge). No one is there except a young father carrying his young child. And me.
It’s cold. The large pond is frozen-over clear glass. I have to look twice to see the ice because the surface is spotless and smooth. The cattails and pond grass are shades of brown and wave gently as they bend toward the water that reflects back the blue sky and the few clouds. It’s a pastoral painting from another time.
Coming out of the north, I see three geese, wings spread, necks stretched and webbed feet preparing to land on the pond. The frozen solid pond.
Listen, I’m prepared to watch a train wreck on the ice — legs collapsing, feathers flying, ungainly bodies smashing uncontrollably into the shoreline. A disaster.
Ah, but life is always surprising.
The three large birds hit the pond, their legs ramrod stiff, and they glide like competitive skaters over the top of the ice and then in perfect unison turn to avoid the looming cattails at the end of the run. It’s majestic. It’s miraculous. It’s magic.
Heck, I don’t know whether to cheer at the athleticism or laugh at the comedy?
I spot the father carrying the young child.
“Did you see that?” I shout.
He’s laughing and shaking his head and wiping his eyes at what he just saw.
The world has been horribly chaotic in recent months. And, as much as I want to bury my head in the sand under the excuse of being old, I believe I need to keep my eyes open — to stand witness to our lives. But, in the midst of all the vitriol and sadness, I tell myself that it’s all right to pause now and again. To breathe. And it is all right to keep an eye out for three geese landing on a frozen pond. Or even a single duck ice skating.
Now there’s your Zen view. ♦
Joe Weeg spent 31 years bumping around this town as a prosecutor for the Polk County Attorney’s Office. Now retired, he writes about the frequently overlooked people, places and events in Des Moines on his blog: www.joesneighborhood.com.
