Christmas day walk
I left behind the noise and busyness of Christmas day for a solo walk up the hill. You have to duck under these branches to continue up the path. It was like the entrance to my own secret world.
Continuing up the hill you lose your breath but it’s worth it when you turn around to look out over the water.
It had been a while since I surrounded myself with only nature. It felt surprising, or sort of jarring. The clarity and simplicity of snow on branches was such a relief. I started breathing better. I slowed down and looked at the contrast of white snow on dark branches. I looked at the red of red berries.
It was late afternoon but sunny. I walked until I couldn’t continue, where the branches over the path became too thick. I stopped and looked into them. This is where I turn around. This is the turning point where I’ll start back to all that I usually am in a day. Back to my life where there’s so much more than looking carefully at branches. Back to where I am held by more than nature and a hill and trees. And I want to go back. Think of that house full of Christmas brightness and merriment and food cooking and family all together in the special glow Christmas has.
But this is a pause in all that. Here I am just me, without all those ties and tangles. Just breathing and looking. Feeling what it’s like to just be here. No eye contact, no tone of voice, no roles, no providing, no in relation to. Just me: who I always was. Who I always am: somewhere, amidst all the noise and the busy and the giving and the taking and the talking and the understanding and the trying to understand and the keeping afloat and the being patient and the trying.
I’m here: and I start to run in my boots in the snow.
