Take it In, It's Free

Not much to this picture, I suppose.  I snapped it while taking a walk along the mountain top.  It's a State Route.  Around the bend, it dips, and if it was snowing and I was on a sled, it would be a hell of a ride.  At the bottom of the dip, it goes back up.

I had my headphones on and I walked it.  Up and down, and around the bend.  I stripped off a layer and wrapped it around my waist.  I wiped the sweat from my lip.  I looked up and over, where a hillside of cattle grazed lazily.  I glanced to the left when I turned around that bend, and I saw a woman working in a garden the size of my backyard, her husband tending to the lawn beside their house.  When they saw me, they waved.  I waved back, and thought about how easy it was to find goodness.

It was there that I stopped to take it all in.

As I sat on the hillside and gazed at the cows, I could only think one thing: the insignificance of the “things” in my life. There's no meaning in clothes and SUVs, no significance in cell phones, computers or shoes.

 It all purports to nothing.

I stared at the golden hillside, one white cow strewn with the black, and started to dream. My eyes scanned the horizon and life moved in slow motion for the first time in a long time.  The unhurried movement gave great meaning to the pace we all live when we have jobs and responsibilities that interrupt the simple act of gratitude for having lived. Thoughts of my toothless children in diapers gave way to full sets of teeth and underpants that gave way to big beds and iPods, and somehow, despite their growth being a reality, it didn’t feel real in that moment.  And I realized, with some dismay, that had I not come to this hillside and gazed into the endless sky, another year might have passed without recognizing just how quickly it passes; I might have allowed another year to slip by without the brief visit into nostalgia, without the replay of how far I’ve come, how high I’ve climbed. 

Breathing mountain air has a way of leaving you breathless.

And the ultimate truth I found was that clothes and SUVs, cell phones, computers and shoes can never compete with what we get to experience for free - - the scent of a flower, the curve in a road, the fog on a mountain top in the distance, a wave coming into shore, snowflakes falling, the vision of laughter on your child’s face, sharing in the smile, the warmth of a hug from someone you’ve been missing, the memory of love, of love, of love. . .

And the dreaming and reality give way to the desire for something simpler.  I could sell the car, sell the house, quit the job - - - live more simply.  I could live so that I’m not living to pay out, but to take in all the expansive beauty offered to me.

It was nice to slow down and to dream, and to recognize that there are choices out there, even if it’s impossible for me to take them.  Selling the house, selling the car, quitting the job. . . not so simple.

And that’s okay.  It’s really okay.