Running Free

On a certain kind of day, one goes off into the woods for an hour or two of wandering and thinking, and she longs for that thoughtful interval of silence and reflection with an intensity which is beyond description.

Yesterday, I went looking for my favorite sitting rock, thinking to spend some time just breathing in and out and sorting out the events of this week, but my rock (alas) could not be located in the waist deep snow, and the bottom of the gully where the rock makes its home was truly treacherous underfoot. I decided that I had better continue on my way and keep to higher ground whenever possible - there was less chance of my taking a tumble into icy waters or breaking an ankle if I stayed on the rocky ground higher up.

As things turned out, it was a day for serendipity happenings and little wild magics, and just the ones I needed. After weeks of biting cold and heavy snowfall, the temperatures had begun to climb upward, and the dear little winding creek which runs headlong down the wooded eastern hill into the beaver pond was open and flowing again.

My friend gurgled and sang to itself yesterday as it swirled over the icy rocks, and it seemed very happy to see me - its carefree comforting music danced through my thoughts all the way home through the deep snow. I returned from my rural wanderings feeling calm and contented, but without ever having parked my posterior on a cold chunk of granite for an hour, or falling into the beaver pond either. Out of such small gifts, random blessings and wild graces, perhaps one can craft a mindful life.