And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair. ~ Kahlil Gibran



Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Call of the Wild

Late at night their mournfull call fills the night air. I am unable to read when this happens, and my cig is forgotten as I look out into the darkness. The song of the Loon rises from the lake, and something wild and free comes to life inside of me.

In a way, I hate these moments. Something about the eerie sound makes me want to run. Go north. Go west. Go somewhere that streetlights and headlights and cell phones have never seen. Hide myself in a forest of trees that have never known a chainsaw or an axe, and wash myself in streams that run free of the beer bottles and pop cans found so often further downstream.

It doesn't seem fair that this call comes to me when I am chained to a place where nothing, it seems, is clean. I yearn for the clutter of fallen trees and self-seeded wildflowers, and I see trash caught in bushes and grass. I long for the fresh smells of a pine forest or a clear lake, and instead am assaulted with the stench of car exhaust. I dream of the song of crickets and wolves and the wind whispering through trees, and I hear instead the humm of A/C units and the swish of tires on the highway.

And yet....

I am grateful, too. The Call of the Loon, the sound of the wild, reminds me that there still are a few places (precious few) where things are quiet and clean. It reminds me why I keep my corner of the world a little quieter, a little cleaner. It reminds me that there is a part of me that hasn't been numbed by the constant noise and color of "modern life". There is a space in my soul that is still clean, still fresh, still simple. I am glad.

~....and that's all I have to say about that....~

11 comments:

Anonymous said...

Your description of a clean, quiet world is delightful and paints a lovely picture in my mind when I close my eyes. But your statement "I long for the fresh smells of a pine forest or a clear lake, and instead am assaulted with the stench of car exhaust" is somewhat dubious in that you also spoke of your "cig". Hmmm.....

Fr. Peter Doodes said...

I so love your writing Barefoot...

Anonymous said...

Your words make me want to run away into the forest :-) {sigh}

Fr. Peter Doodes said...

Now I understand... http://www.barefootwine.com/

Allison said...

Beautifully said!

barefoot gardener said...

Hehe! Peter, good find. Unfortunately I don't drink (maybe once every year or two). I never "grew up" enough to appreciate the flavor, I guess :)

Everyone else, thanks for the encouragement and nice words!

cheryl said...

How are you ? We haven't had a post from you in months . Wondering how my favourite Barefoot Gardener is :)

Fr. Peter Doodes said...

Miss you!

Alcyone said...

I am having trouble posting comments on blogspot sites... google and I, we'll just have to work it out... but I was asking about you, your feet more specifically, their bareness, the changing seasons and the state of things in the grass. :-)

Alcyone said...

ah, there it is finally....

xxxxxooooo,

Alecto the Terrible :-)

Anonymous said...

You do have a beautiful way with words...it is inspiring.