“I walk for you. Every day. When you are lost in chaos or despair, I will be walking in peace and harmony, some place in the world. You can know that I am walking for you.”
~ Thich Nhat Hanh as told to Dawna Markova, I Will Not Die an Unlived Life
Yesterday, I told a good friend it’s getting kind of lonely. I rarely get to talk to folks on the Trail anymore. Words that are muffled discourage discussion, I suppose. “Well, put out there what you want to have happen, girlfriend!” she reminded me.
The Trail, for so long a sanctuary, is still deeply comforting, but like everything else in this world, it has changed. I try to make an effort to look into people’s eyes until I feel a connection take hold. For the most part, folks do respond, but these days our eyes have to do all the work. I now understand how much expression comes from the lips — words not included.
The good news is more people than ever are saying hello. Isolation is a desert and we have grown thirsty. But after the hello is had, many are on the move, distracted or anxious. Even my friends have different rhythms and patterns now.
I find myself longing for the “good” ‘ole days. Maybe we all do. Since it is not possible, I am trying to come to terms with the loss. And I am asking how I can create something new.
Mask or no mask, the Trail and I are like an old married couple — you’ve got to do the work to spark that magic. You’ve got to arrive with an open heart and pretend it’s your first date.
It’s late afternoon and I’m out for my usual walk, but this time I decide to don my red tutu because I am needing a big boost. And to get a boost, you’ve got to “bring it!” as they say.
I like the tutu because it reminds me of my skater skirt and skating ‘round in circles on my childhood pond. With all those tulle layers, the tutu’s sides stick out, and I feel like I am cocooned, but in a good way. It’s an upside-down “top,” and I can spin in perfect balance. No ice needed.
About a mile up the path, I spot two friends. Friends! We strike up a conversation (socially distanced) that lasts twenty minutes or so. A small circle has formed with just the three of us. This is a big deal, and just what I had asked for.
A handful of folks pass us on foot, and a few more are coming down the mountain road in cars. There is traffic. I never knew I would celebrate seeing traffic. With that, my friends and I sense it is time to say good-bye.
As I reach the end of the boardwalk, yet another friend comes waltzing around the bend. “I was just picturing you skating on a lake, you know, like in that Joni Mitchell song,” she calls out.
All of a sudden, I hear rustling in the fallen leaves and a noise louder than even squirrels can muster. Two deer, one male with antlers, and one female, are on the run. Circling up to the road, then back down into the woods — over and over again. The male in pursuit, but socially distant. “I can play this game!” he seems to say.
I watch for as long as I can before dusk sets in and the deer head for the hills. Later that evening, I learn the deer were doing a mating ritual. I have never seen this before in my sixty-one years. I take it as a good omen. Deer symbolize gentleness and love. (Ted Andrews, Animal Speak)
Circles formed ‘round and ‘round me today, and they were enough to hold me here. They were enough to remind me that intentions do work. And magic still happens.
So, as we turn towards a new holiday season, albeit a different kind of one, I call you into the circle to stand with me, and feel the love at the center — no matter how far away it may seem.
~ KB