Sunday, October 14, 2012

I Wax Poetic

Friday Jeffrey decided to clean off his desk.  Which to be interpreted means he moved the sprawling chaos from his desk to my  bookshelf.  Thus, last night, I was forced to take a few hours and expunge the situation.  I don't sleep well when my room is a mess.  That is not to say I keep it clean all the time.  I certainly try, but the bedroom seems to be last on the list as it is the place where people don't usually see excepting us.  Regardless, sometimes it gets to be too much, I just can't take it anymore and am forced to do some serious cleaning.  Which was the case last night.

While purging and organizing the bookshelf, I re-discovered a book I had long since forgotten.  A dear friend presented it to me after we had not seen each other for a very long time.  Most people would pass the book by, not caring for it or giving its shabby cover a second look, but my dear friend knows me so well.  The older and more loved a book, the more cherished it will be by me.  The little book was a compilation of poems by Emily Dickinson.  When my eye spied the faded cover, I couldn't resist.  I pulled it from the dusty shelf (don't judge.  I have been busy and dusting is not a priority right now), opened the yellow pages and inhaled.  I love the musty spice spell of old books.  I love how the pages feel in my hands, fragile, delicate, and like the hands of old friends.  A little sentimental?  Perhaps, but books to me are just as dear as the most kindred spirit.  I seem to feel a kinship with the authors.  I often believe had we been born in the same time and place, we would have been the best of friends.  I smiled, as I put the book back, lingering on the hard cover and remembering my sweet friend.  Then I got on with The Great Cleanse of 2012 and forgot about it.

Today, my body was aching for movement.  I haven't been to the gym in a while.  I have been too busy; so, after church, I decided to go for a walk.  I took along my new found forgotten book, a paper and pen, and headed out into the brisk fall air.  With the melancholy song of a cello confiding through my headphones and the musings in my head, I lost myself in wandering through the streets of the neighborhood.  
Stopping every now and then to pull myself out of my reverie and take count of my location, I would plunge right back in, the plodding of my feet keeping time with the wanderings of my mind.  
My feet took me to the Hollow.  No surprise there, as it is the most secluded and beautiful area in the neighborhood.   I smiled a bit and began my feast.  The Hollow is always a feast for me.  The sights, the smells, and the sounds all fill me and I leave a better person.  
Today was special, though.  My feet took me to a different entrance than where I typically begin.  I have been missing so much from the other entrance!  My camera was happy as was my heart.
I found a small stream, complete with a mini waterfall. 
I strayed from the path, intoxicated with discovery, eager to explore and see more.  Without looking for it, I tripped into a place that seemed made especially for me.  
A little teepee made from a fallen tree.  A log bench positioned perfectly beneath, ideal for sitting, writing, meditating, and daydreaming.  
Of course, I stopped, set up camp, and continued my musings.
I pulled out my book, my paper and pen, and just let it all out, and let it all in.  The smell spicy smell of leaves softly, ever so gently decaying around me provided me with a sense of a shroud around me in my tree cave.  I could feel strength and power from the raw beauty and fractured sounds fortifying me in this Elysium.  
 I annotated my thoughts until I could no longer hold my pen, my numb fingers giving up on the fine motor skills.  I then pulled out the words of my friend Emily.  I read and relished, cello concertos still playing in my ears, the words of Emily Dickinson swirled around me, dancing between the fluttering leaves, quietly instilling peace and joy as they softly fell, becoming one with the autumn.  The sound of bird wings echoed the palpitating of the leaves, like punctuation to their songs.  And then there was the velvety gush of the little brook, white noise, drowning out the calamity of the city and leaving the symphony of nature. 

There are certain things that make me wax poetic.  Clearly, my little walk today was one of them. Just as I purged the mess on the bookshelf, the fresh air somehow eradicated the dam from my soul and left a peace I have been needing in its place.  I am a country girl, through and through.  
When life gets too much for me, I flee to the cathartic mountains, inebriating myself with the awe of God's creations and the love He has for me.
My heart is filled, fit to burst when I recollect some of my blessings, and still, I know that there are many more, and I am humbled.
 
What a lovely day it was.  

What a perfect way to end the Sabbath.

3 comments:

Sue said...

Your photos are amazing, and so is your description. I really enjoyed reading about your day, Amy.

=)

Francisca said...

So pretty!!! I hope your Halloween is going splendidly!!!

Em said...

i want a hollow!!!!! that pic of you is beautiful.