The Show/Play must go on

Monday, February 20, 2006

Having read a few of my entries lately, I realize I have been simply regurgitating stuff I have been reading. My writing has been the result of the act of reading, and then the physical act of writing without any intervention on the part of my inner self. It has been more of a vomiting of words without having digested them. It has been anything but “a language of the heart”. I apologize to any readers for my lack of honesty, and my insincerity. Shame on me! I feel like a sophomoric student regurgitating on an exam what the professor said in class; the stuff he/she wants to hear for whatever reason.

So I shall stop this nonsense and be me. Whether my writing is good or bad (a purely subjective thing) is not as important as whether it is honest communication from me and my observations and reflections on the subject matter. So let me tell you about a walk I took yesterday.

I took a walk in the blustering cold. It felt so very good to have the cold, cold air touch my face; so cold it made my eyes tear over.

I walked out on the pier overlooking the lake and I looked into the depths of the cold, dark, green water. It was so clear I could see the ropes that serve as guy wires to anchor the poles of the pier. I could see the moss growing on them and moving eerily back and forth with the current caused by the wave action on the surface on such a cold windy day. I could see where the poles entered the lake’s bottom several feet below. It reminded me of the times I have gone scuba diving with my son and I could imagine what it would be like to be down there in my breathing apparatus, part of a world only imagined before I learned to dive.

Then I walked about in the woods looking at all the different life forms; some evergreen and some deciduous. There was an upturned tree with its root system and sod still intact. I touched it and felt a sense of connectedness with it. I felt part of something greater than myself; similar to what I feel, on a clear night, gazing up at the stars.

I saw a single white egret fly over the lake and land in the marsh near the shoreline. It seems way too cold and too early in the year for the return of the egrets. Perhaps it is a scout to check out the food source before reporting back to the migratory flock. It stayed a short time as though it had gathered the necessary information and then soared away on widespread, beautiful, white wings; soaring above the grayness of the winter day. It was almost like a dream: its presence such a stark contrast to winter’s grayness.

Upon my return home, I felt a sense of joy having used my body as nature intended, taking lengthy strides with my long, strong legs, swinging my arms in rhythm with my strides, breathing in the cold air and then feeling its warmth upon exhaling and watching it make a misty cloud when it met with the cold.

But most of all, I enjoyed the sense of oneness with all about me. How alive I felt during my walk. Upon returning to my warm house, I could now sit at my window looking out at winter’s scenery and again relive the joy I felt when earlier I was out there a player on the set, part of the play called life.

And now, I see the egret has landed upon yet another part of shoreline and it seems to remind me of the endless cycle of nature’s play which has no “acts” or “endings” but a lovely repetition of seasons, each with its own set of characters; some the same but in different costumes, like the trees, some making renewed appearances, like the egret, and yet some making their exit from the set, like the upturned tree.

And I feel happy that I am able to be both an actor in this play but also that I have the awareness and alertness of observation of an audience. How very fortunate I am to be both a participant and a watcher of this wonderful play entitled “Life”.