In Quiet Places

As I perched myself on a rock in the woods of Greenfelder park, I quietly observed the sights and sounds of nature that are far too foreign to me these days. I eagerly attempted to replace the chaos of my mind with the sounds of leaves rustled by the breeze, the song of the birds and the simplicity of something bigger than me. As I became aware of a creepy bug clumsily making its way across gravel and twigs, I realized I was jealous of its uncomplicated life. What pain could it possibly experience that could alter every choice it made from then on? (other than losing one of its 6 or so legs) What mistakes could be haunting its thoughts? What vices could it abuse to escape the prison of its own mind? There couldn’t possibly be any that compare to the ones that have given this knot residency in my stomach for so many years.

As I mocked its existence I noticed it started to pace, then circle the top of a ridged stone and I wondered what could have happened to make it question its carefree trek. For such a worthless bug what meager thought could have interrupted its progress? The more I watched it tire itself in repeating its footsteps I realized once again that there is so much to misunderstand in life.

I laughed at the thought that I probably look just as foolish to anyone that might take time to observe me. Too often I come to a halt and look around to figure out where my busy feet have taken me. I reflect on the road that brought me to this point of either satisfaction or disappointment. I judge whether I have lead myself closer or farther from the dreamed destination and what changes need to be made to get there. Or if I even still want to get there. Too frequently I debate if there is a way to back track and erase the things I would rather go without memory of or wounds from. But that’s not realistic and there are too many good things intertwined with the bad to make the cost worth paying.

The harsh reality is that if I’m not satisfied with the past, continuing in the same direction most likely isn’t going to bring any more satisfaction. To the right lays the instability of a fallen leaf, shaky ground that could crumble beneath my feet or tilt to change my direction without me realizing, but is quite enticing with its spontaneous nature. To the left a straight and narrow twig that has a precise direction, but when I get to the end will it be what I thought, hoped, or believed?

I didn’t really have an “AH HA” moment, where I feel like I know exactly what I need to do next. I simply entertained myself with the thought of this insect questioning its next step just as much as I do my own as I look down on it, it is unaware of me like my troubles blind me from all that is bigger than myself.

Over the years people have told me that I only carry such burdens because God knows I can handle it. They say “of course you can go on, look at all that you have been through”, “this is nothing for you, you’ve been through hell and back”. This past month I feel like I can’t carry them anymore, I feel like I have crumbled under the weight, I’ve made desperate choices hoping they will lighten the load and for a brief moment they usually do. And it’s true that what I face now would have gone unnoticed next to the dragons of my past but when a tire goes flat, it’s flat, no matter where it may have traveled with strength in the past. It sounds good to me to just rest on the side of the road for awhile, even if my load doesn’t lighten perhaps I can use it as a backrest as I regroup before throwing a spare on.