Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.
Mark Twain
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What a great way to begin. Do-si-do.
We actually completed this walk weeks ago, but this is the first I’ve gotten around to bringing the photos to you. We were rather excited about this one, as it is pretty much our stomping grounds, Mt. Tabor and the surrounding neighborhoods. What’s more, and I suppose, usual, is that we learned much that we didn’t know and walked streets we hadn’t seen. Sure, we knew they were there, houses sprinkled in the distance of more familiar routes, sometimes daily ones, but it was such a treat to actually walk among them and marvel that there could be so many gems so close yet so hidden to us for the past twelve years.
I think that’s what the hubster and I like most about these books. They give us the opportunity to take our blinders off. So much of our lives are lived up close and with great convenience, speed, and efficiency in mind. We don’t often give ourselves the time to take the long way home, make a “wrong” turn, or just plain wander. Yet the rewards of doing so are plentiful and fine – gorgeous flowers, great views, and new four legged friends among the few.
When we honestly ask ourselves which people in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.
Henri Nouwen
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Glittering diamonds of dew; emerald leaves, needles, and moss; ripe ruby huckleberries; opalescent water and stone under a brilliant lapis lazuli sky. These are the many jewels of Opal Creek Ancient Forest Center, Mother Nature’s living, breathing cathedral of earth, water, sometimes fire, and air. Despite their glimmering and pristine character, they hardly encompass the magic and wonder of this truly special place.
As I am one who sees the beauty, power, and resilience of the natural world wherever I go, urban and rural settings alike, I thought I knew what to expect at the Opal Creek Ancient Forest Center – a grand place of primal waters and trees older than the nation I call home. After all, I’ve been to myriad forests and seen the majesty of trees towering above me. I’ve witnessed the scrappy plant proudly blossoming from a tiny crack in the sidewalk. I’ve seen water of such blindingly brilliant hues as to leave me speechless. Despite all of this, I was wholly unprepared for my experience at Opal Creek. The beauty and peace I felt was staggering and resonated deep in my bones. Every step, glance, and sound steeped in the sublime.
It all starts with the journey, literally and figuratively. We load the car here at home, drive south through the cacophony of morning rush hour before turning east. Already there is a shift. There are fewer cars, more trees, large stands of oaks peppered between farms, shopping centers, and even a prison. The landscape changes again as we make gains in elevation, and the grassy knolls turn into vast stands of evergreens. Their clean scent mingles with the dust of the dirt road under our wheels. We park the car, but we aren’t quite to the end of our journey. We walk three miles out of time. It could be the 1930’s of rustic wood cabins, gold panning, starlit skies, and cast iron. And in those places where there is no sound save the chirp of a camouflaged bird or the drip of of a watercourse borne of centuries, we might just be in America before it was, two nameless faces living off the land.
Finish every day and be done with it. You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
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