Category: blog

The forest seemed to be smiling, its hands folded on its chest. Nature always seems to smile, not with pleasure, but with a sort of ancient wisdom. Through night, through rain, through cold, even through death it smiles. It knows about seasons, about cycles. I was clearly the only living thing in 700 acres that was wondering what to do next. 

I got this idea that I was walking through my mind. Since I saw no other hikers for an hour and a half, it was easy to slip into this metaphor. I imagined that I was tip-toeing through my thoughts, my memories, my ideas about the way things are and the way things ought to be. And the air was crisp and cool.

The only woodland creatures I encountered were mosquitos, but I felt strangely honored to be considered acceptable feasting material in this great and complex, living and breathing entity we call Nature. It’s the least one can do when sitting atop the food chain.

I was astounded by the beautiful serenity of trees displaced by puny streams, their roots sticking comically up in the air, underbrush still clinging to the base, hoping to start a new ground at an 80 degree angle.

Not so long ago, I read somewhere that Nature holds endless metaphors for life, which seems a bit inside out, since we ARE Nature and can’t really be separated from it. Nevertheless, when you are out on a hike by yourself, you cannot help but end up with at least 5 metaphors for your life. I know I came up with about 7, none of which are particularly useful to mankind and do not, therefore, need to be repeated on the interwebs.

It is enough to say that, with every step on the carpet of needles, I could feel the Smile sinking deeper and deeper into my bones. 

I am 10 years old, and this is my first time swimming in a lake. My hands will smell like mildew for the next two weeks. Still a few feet from the shore (the lake is sea-like), I see hundreds of little black tadpoles swarming around my feet. Tonight, when I close my eyes to sleep, I will see tadpoles swirling, swirling, until the swarms fade to black, and black gives way to the vibrantly colorful dreams of a child.

I push away from the bank. The water is chilly, but the day is summery enough that I don’t mind. As I move slowly through the water, I hit a warm spot. I look around to see if I have just left a shaded area. I push on into the sunny water, but am met with an icy patch. I am disappointed; I thought the rest of the vast lake would be Nature’s hot tub. My big toe dips into the mud, and I find myself in another warm spot. I linger.

Life, or at least my life, seems to be comprised of patches of joy and patches of lethargy. There are days that I can’t hide the bounce in my step, and there are days when I drag my feet. There are days when I feel independent and strong, and nights when I wish I were crawling into bed next to someone who adored me. Some days, I think I must be Heifetz-incarnate (ok, so there was only one day like that), and days when I wonder how I got here (countless). Sometimes, I gain great pleasure from organizing the cans in a cupboard, and sometimes I am bored out of my skull during an action-packed thriller. Some mornings, I want green tea and yoga. Some mornings, I start eating chocolate chip cookies before I even hit the shower. Some days, I find people’s differences inspiring and wonderful, and some days, they cause me great anxiety and I wish we were the products of cookie-cutters. I go through weeks of listening only to Brahms, and suddenly I start skipping to the next Coldplay song on my Shuffle. There are times when I can’t wipe the silly grin off my face and days when everyone tells me I look tired, even though I’ve had plenty of sleep. 

On the surface, life looks more or less the same from day to day, but the truth is that most people have days when they desperately don’t want to go to work, as well as days when life looks bright despite the clouds. Precisely because of the ups and downs, I see life as a wonderful, beautiful, miraculous gift when I am feeling good. When I am feeling less than good, the ups and downs are precisely what make life so aggravating, so draining.

Curious as to the size of this warm spot, I press on toward the center of the lake. I like how the water feels as I cut through it with my arms and legs.