Took Pablito up Bernal Hill this morning. My plan was to meditate. Closed my eyes. The wind bit through my windbreaker. Too cold to concentrate. I could hear the dog snuffing around in search of gophers, his collar clinking in the wind. I pictured myself on some remote mountainside in the Southwest. I was an ancient goat herder and Pablito my old goat. I rubbed my grizzled chin to keep warm and braced myself against the windswept landscape. My goat pawed the ground in search of edibles, his bell chiming sweetly.
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