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Some Days I Walk

June 20, 2011
“Mysteries, Yes”

Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous
to be understood.

How grass can be nourishing in the
mouths of the lambs.
How rivers and stones are forever
in allegiance with gravity
while we ourselves dream of rising.
How two hands touch and the bonds
will never be broken.
How people come, from delight or the
scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.

Let me keep my distance, always, from those
who think they have the answers.

Let me keep company always with those who say
“Look!” and laugh in astonishment,
and bow their heads.
~ Mary Oliver ~

(Evidence)

Most days I go for runs.  I run along sidewalks through the center of my small town, up through neighborhoods, and onto dirt trails that take me on paths beneath trees.  Most days my running shoes pound on the ground and my heartbeat picks up and it is all I can do to keep breathing, and keep going.  Most days I am too involved in my minutes and my mileage (however small they may be) to notice what is around me, to notice the amazing canvas that God has given me to paint my life on.

But today, because of a cold, I was forced to walk.  I laced up my shoes, strapped on my iPod, and gave myself over to the idea of a slower pace.  Of meandering.  Of wandering.  Of noticing my steps and breathing even breaths and not going fast enough to create a breeze across my face.  And I walked for hours.  I wandered for hours.  I went up and through and around and between streets and trails I had never tread on before.  I discovered two greenhouses.  I noticed a chipmunk running down the trunk of a tree and scurrying under a stone hedge.  I stopped and smelled the white roses growing up on an arbor in a neighbor’s yard.  I waved to the elderly gentleman out pruning his bushes and smiled at the mom pushing her toddler in a stroller as she jogged by.  I enjoyed the smell of freshly cut grass, the sweet perfume of hydrangeas, and the scent of the barbecue taking place at a local church picnic.  I slowed down, and I noticed.  I took it all in.  I didn’t rush past it.

I think I will walk again tomorrow.  I’d like to notice these mysteries all over again.
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2 Comments leave one →
  1. June 21, 2011 1:10 am

    LOVE this post, love the poem, too. As I always walk, (and NEVER run) I can enter into this story like a comfy old jacket and really wriggle down and enjoy. Thank you.

    • June 21, 2011 3:59 pm

      Thank you so much, Diana. So happy to have met you in the Gypsy Mama community!

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