Sometimes a person needs a story more than food to stay alive –Jean Shinoda Bolen, MD, Crossing to Avalon
Vacationing in the “deep south,” Brisben, New York, enjoying a vacation from my ordinary lifestyle. We’re here in the woods, just outside of town, and I never quite realized how much closer the stars are here in Brisben, New York. I almost touched them, last night when the dog and I went out to check out the evening air (and find his dutiful spot in the deep deep snow). I wish I could have pictured it, but had chosen no equipment to bring, and I don’t think I could quite capture this beauty, the way I could see it with my eyes. Each constellation stuck out brilliantly (Orion is my favorite, perhaps because he is always so obvious!), and I felt “mad” with excitement. Only the bitter bitter cold kept me from staying out of doors (the slated -29, although not confirmed at that particular moment, kept me and the dog at bay and in by the noisy coal stove), donned in my finest flannel, my big purple boots that belong in a museum (they are so old), and warm down coat.
I guess Ralph Waldo would be/could be proud of his student here, instead of writing (which I’m doing now because of that “need to share”), I just took part with the nature, which is his intention that every person become a true part of the nature, hence, nourishing the soul.
I’ve been doing that soul searching thing again. Immersing myself in Emerson and his Nature. “Dilettantism” is the mystery word of today. It means “amateur, inexperience.” The sentence, “A dilettantism in nature is barren and unworthy. The fop of fields is no better than his brother of Broadway.” The last sentence recorded today is “Nature is loved by what is best in us. It is loved as the city of God…because there is no citizen. The sunset is unlike anything that is beneath it. It wants men…if our life flowed with the right energy, we should shame the brook.”
As a part of this journey (of mine), I am writing more by hand than by the typed page on the computer. I bleed more, it flows through the fingers into the ink of the pen, mingling with the blood and flow of energy. Perhaps eventually that energy will flow through the computer keyboard. But for now, this envelope is an integral part of my journey.
One more word from Emerson today “the incommunicable trees begin to persuade us to live with them, quit our life of solemn trifles…we receive glances from the heavenly bodies, which call us to solitude, and foretell the remotest future.”
Ah, one more thought, maybe it’s the paper from the tree that adds to this penchant of mine…