After a heavy day of hiking, walking, and running through
the wilderness paths of Acadia, Jamie and I decided to change our pace a bit
for the next day. We had discovered an absolutely beautiful stretch of rocky
coastline (there are several, but this one was ours) in Acadia where we could
take time to read, to write, to reflect, and to soak in the surf. And so, our
pilgrimage was a bit shorter and more intentionally focused. Rather than
scrambling from trail to trail and taking in new experiences at each stop, we
decided to make our way to one place and plant ourselves for a spell. Partially
this was a decision based on a bit of a twinge in my Achilles from a speedy 9.3
mile run the previous day, but mainly it was a decision based on finding our
Acadia surfside sanctuary.
We made our way quietly along this path in the early morning
and dipped down onto the rocky shore of Mount Desert Island’s southeastern
shore. The sun appeared in fullness and for a significant period for the first
time since our arrival. The waves crashed violently on the rocks, and the whole
of our being sat mesmerized by the sights and sounds surrounding us. After
reading and writing for a bit in a journal, I just sat back and watched the
sporadic clouds above me change shapes as they drifted along the coastal sky.
The rhythmic crash and retreat of the waves provided an exquisite soundtrack
for this quiet Maine morning.
As if the sight and sounds weren’t already filling my heart
and mind with rest and refreshment, I picked up a recently acquired book and
started through a few pages. The book was a World War II story about the battle
for Crete and how these island people formed an incredible resistance that gave
Hitler fits. The book was about this moment in history, but in these opening
chapters, it appeared to be as much about people who were living in good
relationship with their surroundings—an aspiration for both myself and Jamie.
Sitting and reading, reflecting, and writing, Jamie and I
both felt like this was a very different Acadia experience. It was as though we
were adjusting to the rhythm around us and we were starting to experience true
rest and refreshment. We were not concerned about the future, projects to be
accomplished, or even thinking about what we were going to do when we got back
home. We were content and our hearts were full with the gifts of the day.
And now, back in West Virginia, we have carried a piece of
that Acadia morning in our hearts and into our daily routines. There is plenty
of time for planning and working through logistics and conducting mental models
for possible futures, but what we desire more of, and dare we say what all of
us need more of is a sense of rest and relationship with the present moment and
environment, wherever that might be. May we all aspire to find ourselves
soaking in the sights, sounds, textures, and flavors of the present moment if
not daily, then maybe weekly. And, if the time and space (and weather) permit,
may we look heavenward as we lie upon the earth and watch the dance of clouds
in the skies. 
No comments:
Post a Comment