It’s been a while…quite a while…since this blog was updated. Apologies to those who actually looked forward to new posts (you both are too kind).
I could say I’ve been sunning on my yacht in France, trekking with the sled dogs in the Yukon, or working in the laboratory coming up with a cure for the current rash of apathy that seems to be overtaking everyone.
But I wouldn’t be telling the truth. The truth is much less exciting.
The truth is I did get very busy with my work, then slipped into some kind of mental paralysis where I just didn’t have it in me at the end of day to come up with anything interesting.
Never stopped me before, right?
What strikes me most about all this is the slippery slope that seems to get more slippery as the years go by. At times, it’s just too easy to opt for lethargy. Not that there’s anything wrong with slowing a bit, being more choosy with whom you spend your time, and be much more discerning about what you do with your time. We’ve earned the right, right? And frankly some activities don’t have the appeal they once did.
To me, Nature is always the best choice. The peace, the stillness, the lack of pretense that is the natural world.
Near where I live, there’s a path that goes through a lot of trees, many of which appear to have been around for many years. I walk through there almost daily, listening to the wind rustle the leaves, hearing the birds, and just enjoying the scene. My favorite trees are the ones that look the most worn; their bark is falling away, and their color is not that different than the silver white hair of an aging human. While the younger, thinner, more energetic trees around them sway easily in the breeze, these elder statesman never move. Their leaves are long gone and now they have only a few bare branches that reach out quietly. They are a source of strength and power.
Come what may, they prevail.
Hermann Hesse writes, “When we learn how to listen to trees, then the brevity and quickness and childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy.” Walt Whitman was in love with trees and advised spending serious time with them.
If you’ve never stopped on a mountain trail to “shake hands with a tree” (put your arms around it), you’re missing out.
If it sounds crazy that’s okay with me. All I know is on the days when things seem out of control, frustrating, sad or pointless, a walk past a few of these stalwart guardians restores the soul. While the young and green bend, shake, and fall apart in the storms, my ragged, yet strong friends are always there, waiting, with a wisdom that can’t be found anywhere else. A wisdom that can only come from years of growth. And probably countless pests messing up its hair.
The wisdom of the trees. So worth knowing. Especially when we turn those “big” birthdays that we can’t believe are happening. How did this happen this fast? How can someone who used to go hear live music at 11 p.m. now find it impossible to stay awake past 9 p.m.? It’s all going by so fast, that just can’t be right.
And then there’s that gorgeous, wrinkled tree.
With a beauty that only an old soul can have. It’s a beauty we all have as we age, even if we exhaust ourselves trying to cover it up or replace it with new parts. We are who and what we are, and even on our bad days, or times when we are sure everyone else is happier and younger than us, we are each a miracle.
So let’s keep rockin’ it. And I’ll do my part, too.
“The clearest way into the universe is through a forest of wilderness.”
John Muir
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