A walk with a friend

 

June 6, 2022

 

Greetings from outside,

 “Pursue some path, however narrow and crooked, in which you can walk with love and reverence.”  Henry David Thoreau

 I stopped to drink water, my breath loud in my ears, laboring after the pull up the hill.  My legs were a little rubbery, not accustomed to this work, or the miles that piled up on them already from the days before.

 The forest was dense with green, a tangled canopy of living things over me, almost hiding the sky’s color.  It sheltered me from the hot sun and from rainstorms.  It is a different place than the world I left.  I thought of my brother’s urging to the world to ‘go outside’.  To put away the news and go breathe in the soul-saving air of nature.

 This hike in the woods had purpose, to push the tired muscles, ask them to work harder so they can build strength for more challenging days ahead.  Miles of huffing up hills, breathing differently, challenging the legs, confusing the body, asking it to try.

 But the real purpose was to be with my friend.  We would have time to talk and listen, to take those thoughts and hold them up in the dappled light and see what they really mean.  I trust my friend with every shade of me.  No one in the history of creation is closer to me.  We finish each other’s thoughts.  We begin each other’s thoughts.

 We have sometimes found moments, here and there, to spend time with each other.  An early morning run, a cup of coffee, a late-night moment before sleep. But this is a rare place, where we can talk out loud and unabashedly.  We had the forest to ourselves.  Time seemed to have gone to manage other moments.

 I had things to consider.  Some of them were choices that were on the horizon, some were as close as the moment.  I scattered the small distractions that didn’t belong, those petty trespassers. 

 I also had moments to consider, memories, thoughts, and feelings that held all those in one place.  All that was needed was the time and space to let them come.  And time with my friend.

 We talked about the easy things, and then sang, and then said silly things.  We changed subjects, left sentences unfinished, dropped improper tenses, elaborate exaggeration, nonsensical segues.  If you had been eavesdropping, you would have guessed we were lunatics.  Or best friends.

 Some of the time we did not speak.  We simply moved along the path, content to follow our feet, a little ballet between roots and rocks.  I remembered a line from a favorite book; “The place spoke for us, and it was a kind of speech.”

 The woods are quiet, but only to a visitor’s ears.  There are no phones, no cars, no lawn mowers, no whirr and click of mechanical things.  But in a little while, the ears adjust to the quiet, and can hear the soft sounds of life there.

 The trees creak, leaves sigh in the wind.  Birds gossip, some shrill and long winded, others simply offer a single note and then listen.  Anonymous rustling in the groundcover, perhaps better not known.  Here the nearly silent vein of water, happy in its meandering, content in its small part in the tableau.  I can only hear it by holding my breath and choosing to.

 I added my voice, and my friend’s.  We talked about the days ahead, and those passed.  Our conversation is as natural as the creation around us, both in sound and substance.  There are no carefully chosen words, no desire to influence or impress.  We are giving each other word gifts with no expectation or judgment. 

 We stopped and the quiet caught up with us.  For a moment the light in the woods changed.  It became dark, as if someone painted the world with a shadow.  It felt ominous for a moment, I had this sliver of uneasiness in my chest.  And then, almost as an answer, sunlight made its way back into the forest.  It melted the dimness, slowly making grey into green, sepia into gold, ash into light.

 “It’s magic.” I said out loud.  We were both in awe.

 I love my friend.  We are honest together, and forgiving.  We encourage, even in the asking of hard questions, even in not answering them.  We put each thought on a tray of truth and offer it to the other.  One of the pleasures of the day was realizing what we had been given; this blank canvas of time.

 The miles followed the wriggling path, and my legs lost the weariness, and discovered their strength.  The sun moved over the woods, taking the day to other forests, to other friends who were wise enough to be outside.

 I tramped the path to its end and eased the pack from my aching shoulders.  I stood in the different world and looked back into the tunnel of green I had just left.  I waved to my friend and felt the wave in return.  “Until next time.” we said.

 Hope this finds you in good company,

 

David

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright © 2022  David Smith