"As we walk our own ground, on foot or in mind, we need
to be able to recite stories about hills and trees and animals,
stories that root us in this place and keep it alive. The sounds we
make, the patterns we draw, the plots we trace may be as native
to the land as deer trails or bird songs. The more fully we
belong to our place, the more likely that our place will
survive without damage. We cannot create myth from scratch,
but we can recover or fashion stories that will help us to see
where we are, how others have lived here, and how we
ourselves should live."
from Telling The Holy
Scott Russell Sanders
Last week I notified my employer of my intention to retire
this spring. The above quote indicates in part, what I hope
to do. Which is to learn and participate in the rhythm of
life and the change of seasons that occurs in the area
surrounding our cabin. There will also be time for books,
hobbies, friends, and family. The movement of clouds and
stars against the sky, the winds across water, through
trees will hopefully not find me too busy or too tired to
pause for a moment to listen to their songs.
The night before we left the cabin this year the young bear that has
been hanging around the last year or so crossed the road. Not a
great shot but a good reminder.
This is the life I wanted, and could never see.
For almost twenty years I thought that it was enough:
That real happiness was either unreal, or lost, or endless,
And that remembrance was as close to it as I could ever come.
And I believed that deep in the past, buried in my heart
Beyond the depth of sight, there was a kingdom of peace.
And so I never imagined that when peace would finally come
It would be on a summer evening, a few blocks away from home
In a small suburban park, with some children playing aimlessly
In an endless light, and a lake shining in the distance.
from In The Park
By John Koethe