there’s a lesson in here somewhere

Posted on Tuesday 11 April 2006

sense :: hearing // Herb Alpert – Bittersweet Samba

There’s got to be a lesson in here somewhere.

I woke up with trees on the brain yesterday, and this morning wasn’t much different. I had been flashing back to long afternoon and evening walks I used to go on in wooded areas, paths through the small forests that are on their own relatively difficult to find in this area; paved paths or unpaved ones, seeing sights in my mind of tall tree canopies overhead and green to all sides. The trouble with those walks always used to be that the wooded areas around here are thin enough that if you walk for too far in any one direction you’ll eventually come up against the edge of the forest which borders a road or a community of some kind, or the walks were always on heavily traveled or paved walking/jogging/bike paths or trails. I won’t get into the slight problem that often I was so busy focused on the person I was with at the time (usually some kind of romantic interest) that I hardly had the energy or will to really enjoy the natural surroundings for the beauty that they held.

It’s something I’ve learned from my zen studies as of late, even though I freely admit I’m no zen master by any stretch of the imagination; that sometimes the most beautiful things aren’t the things you desire or the things that sparkle and dangle in front of you, but the blade of grass next to your foot, or the sparkle in the sand on the edge of that dried up river that you know has been filled in a few miles away. I suppose it’s the price we pay for living in a metropolitan area; where nature herself seems to be confined to some extent, stopped from running wild and allowed to grow, in an orderly fashion, where we allow, in small spaces, completely unlike the rapidly sprawling and out of control growth that we reserve for ourselves.

But thinking back to it now, even though I can remember the smoothness of a lover’s skin under the fading shades of the sun, filtered down through the leaves of the trees above, and can still hear the wind rustling through the branches, reminding me of the sounds of the ocean, I can still recall how present the natural surroundings made themselves; the softness of the grass under my hands and the dirt I had to brush off the seat of my pants after stopping for a break. I miss all of those sensations; basking in the sun under waving leaves, holding hands and whispering of dreams and fantasies in the summer sun, drinking from a slightly warmed water bottle and swatting away insects just as thirsty, and there’s no reason I can’t go back to them; it’s just that it seems the business of the mundane strips your attention rather easily.

Perhaps a bike purchase is in order, or maybe some mini adventures, as Pastilla would call them.


I never much was one for walking.

4 Comments for 'there’s a lesson in here somewhere'

    Raevyn (Aka The Girl)
    April 11, 2006 | 5:38 pm

    Mini-adventures! Perhaps one weekend we should explore another park?

    One we haven’t been to yet? Take lots of pics?

    April 12, 2006 | 2:26 pm

    The poet’s soul emerges. Simply beautiful.

    You two will grow closer sharing “mini-adventures every weekend for two months.” (Good ones & bad ones). Nudged into worlds you’d ordinarily never explore does that to you. Only wish I’d picked a nicer time of the year 🙂

    April 12, 2006 | 8:28 pm

    ::blush:: Sometimes I really do just have to let it out, oddly enough. I don’t do it nearly as often as I’d like.

    And how did you choose your mini-adventures, anyway? You had so many great things to do; it makes me wonder how we’ll come up with things ourselves!

    April 17, 2006 | 10:44 pm

    Most of them were places/activities that I’d said . . . or “I wonder what kind of interesting people would do that/go there?”

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