DAY.TWELVE> These shoes ain't meant for hiking

If I were to write a beginners book for hiking my first two rules would have to be 1. Bring water and 2. Buy the right sneakers. don't be wearing sketchers. Needless to say, I learned the hard way. But I guess even that is life - a learning progression. What a day in VT - I'm not going to bore you with details but I can tell you that I drove for hours and stopped at every single spot I wanted to see or get a closer look at. I can confidently say that I took it ALL in, and it was beautiful. From rivers to lakes, to streams and valleys. The sky bright blue bursting with radiant sun and then setting to reveal the lightest array of simple and unusual colors. I saw it all. The evergreens who refused to give way even while they know it's the end for the neighbors and the deer who looked so confused as if she had lost her way in her own backyard. I found a park bench donated by the nice (and talented) kids at the high school in 1965 sitting in the middle of one trail off the path in the best location. I sat on that bench and watched the stream of water flow through the shallow valley. And here I thought and wondered as time seemed to pass, but in a way that was peaceful and almost elegant.

What if we had all the time in the world? What if we hopelessly packed out our days just to feel like we are doing something important? What if instead of doing that, we took the time with the things that we did do? I am at peace at this steam as it flows nonstop but gently, easing its way on the sides of rocks, under logs, carrying fallen leaves from one end to the other some being trapped by natures arms. We all work so hard and carry such a heavy load. What if we sat by and set that load down but if only for a while. What if we believed, like water, we could get through anything? I don't think we need to live such busy lives. In busy-ness we lose the part of our selves that captures awe and that imagines and creates. We lose the sense of adventure and exploration that comes with us free when we are born but that we painlessly and thoughtlessly separate as we grow older.