Looking for a Quiet Place

Let nature be your nourishment, a lesson in good manners, a museum of the past, a billboard of the present... and wherein each fragment is engrained with desire to do the work to provide a healthy future.

The winter night took the responsibility of being cold very seriously, and it shushed the noise and increased the oblivion of the neighborhood, left spaces for the sounds that are not for ears because they are the joy of good memories or the pain of memories spoiled.....and there is a sound of cracking under these trees, the tiny sounds of the fight of each little thing to maintain its little thing all across the frigid bridge of night. And even on this temporarily cold journey that could crack my teeth, I smile widely because the gift of life and further experience is still mine. 

I have made no secret of my love for nature, it's vegetation, it's creatures, and because I love it, encourage the love and respect of it, I feel it will never betray me.

As I drove my old, but satisfactory truck through the predawn haze, I noticed several sites of municipal repair and improvement and the small "light in the eyes" of small businesses. I felt pride that I live where, in these troubled times, the majority is not consumed by the "wealth" dream, not violent, not filled with hatred, rather dedicated to cooperation and clean measures of survival and success. I am glad that the people of my blood settled in this warm nest of nature. I am happy that I stayed. I believe this is as close to heaven as It gets!

Sometimes even gentle rain is annoying, tightly associated with muddy footprints, scrub water, and discomfort, but at other times it leaves an antiseptic fragrance on the air, renews life, widens the path to happiness. Perception is up to us.


THE QUIET PLACE - PART ONE Logically, my quiet place could be anywhere, any room in my house because I'm alone here except for my dog that is no longer a big talker.  Yet I choose another place, a specific time, a particular situation for I would rather be outside the influence of Walmart (my curtains), away from the grocery store (my generous stack of pork and beans), away from thoughts of any food, to a place that does not bear my fingerprint or commercial influence.

It could be at close of day when the masks of smiles fall,  and where the sun stumbles along the hunched spine of a broken ridge, drops into the very plane of existence, where the ground smells of America, a free land, farm ground.  Or it could be along a dark path where weeds have stolen the way toward the river that is luminous with illusions.  Add a branch or two of lightning, even a mosquito. (They usually test, then leave me. I'm certainly not of everybody's taste.)

Since daytime tends to blunt or numb me (that nit-picking thing called work and responsibility), my quiet place might best be full-on night, my favorite time actually, for it is then that my mind jumps, and I want to know it all, feel it all, to figure out the symbols of my existence (a vanity license plate of sorts). I want to miss the ones I have loved and lost, and appreciate the loved ones I still have, and burn with the anguish of loss, the joy of having, not once thinking to run for a bucket of water to extinguish any flame of feeling . If I am the most-thinking, the most-caring, therefore, the most-happy, alone or with others in deep night, and because "quiet" is not reserved to absence of sound, it stands to reason, this is my ultimate quiet place.

Won't you tell me....what is yours?