Tranquility

I set out on my adventure after work on Sunday, May 18. I chose as my destination the Missouri State Park at Robertsville. A small campground with wooded sites . Not as imposing as it’s daddy down the road - the Meramec - then again I was simply seeking a quiet evening to think and I found the right spot.

The facilities were well maintained and the Campground Host, a lady by the name of Diane, was congenial and patient with this greenhorn as she fielded my questions. It had rained the morning of my arrival and the ground was slightly muddy, so I pitched my tent on the gravel pad. I initially doubted that I would be comfortable once I decided to find sleep, but found that my sleeping bag, a U.S. Government Issue, Intermediate Cold, cushioned me nicely.

I took a walk around the nearly oval campground, mostly vacant save for a few monstrous motor homes, and found that I was the only camper on site with a tent. I walked into the woods and surprisingly found my way back realizing that the feared encounter with a bear or saber tooth tiger was but a figment of my silly imagination. I set up the picnic table with cheese and crackers, slices of meat, fruit and a bottle of inexpensive, yet the most superb I have tasted, bottle of Merlot. Little tidbits to munch on as I sat for the task at hand. To sit in isolation unencumbered by the distractions of the city with a pencil in hand and a notebook in front of me. To write as the words came to mind without the fuss over structure or an errant comma

The sun sinks slowly in the western sky. Still at least an hour before the official proclamation of the end of day, dusk comes early at ground level in the woods. The silence has an eerie effect on one so accustomed to the noise of the city. Only the birds are singing and the breeze washes through the trees. How I wish I knew the song of the birds. That magical melody holding some deeply guarded secret of the past and perhaps the future. The tree tops shine in the radiance of the sun swaying ,bending, dancing to the music of the winged inhabitants. They comprehend the mystery of the lyrics unlike mere mortals who are simply enthralled by the chirping sounds.

I look over at the bottle. It has reached the halfway point and I wax philosophically for a moment as to whether it is half empty or as the bright eyed optimists would look at it as half full. If I engage myself in debate on such a heady subject, I face a win-win situation. I need not be bored with silly rules of evidence and as the trier of fact I am free to weigh the evidence as I choose.

The sun plunges into the netherworld and darkness covers the world around me. Night has taken hold of the forest the only light the glowing embers of my fire. I sit in the comfort of my chair collecting my thoughts returning to those fearful nights I spent with my eyes straining to overcome the darkness. The only feelings I have tonight are of peace and tranquility.
The canopy above would not permit a full viewing of the those diamonds shining in the night sky, but as I looked through the trees I saw a glimmer of light. It occurred to me then that the moon was open to full view this evening. I looked around and observed slivers of light trace across the ground. A giant flashlight was aimed at the earth and the light came through the trees breaking it into gentle rays .

I was finally exhausted and headed for the tent to sleep away the night. I awoke at 4:00 AM as my body clock beckoned me to arise. Nothing was stirring. No sounds from the highway; no newspapers banging against the door. Only silence, until the pitter patter of raindrops on the tent top. I feel back asleep and when I awoke later, it was still raining. It was time to face the day. I donned my jacket and hat and went forth into the rain sitting in my chair taking in the freshness of the morning. But it continued to rain and interrupted my plans to hike the trail. Monday is another day and I’ll do it then. I broke camp and headed home.

Me and A Hummingbird

Once upon a time, my idea of “roughing it” was a cabaña suite at the Marriott with the room door leading out to the indoor pool. Over the years I compromised and opted to seek less extravagant accommodations with fewer amenities offered. I, however, drew the line at the thought of ever again sleeping under the stars, braving the elements, wrapped in a fart sack. The last time I found myself in that situation was some 25 years ago courtesy of a National Guard unit on a weekend gig. Since my comrades in arms at that time were many years my junior and had never seen active duty , much less ever even heard a shot fired in anger, I felt the need to remove myself from the main campsite and the comfort of the two man tents, volunteering to set myself at a distant location as a perimeter sentinel. I found a safe spot near a large tree as I feared being run over by a gung ho idiot in a jeep more so than I did a bolt of lightning, snuggled into my sleeping bag cradling my M-16 pulled the zipper over my head and slept the night away in the pouring rain. And throughout the years, I reminded myself of that night and the evils that lurked in the great outdoors. Until recently.

My experiences in taking a walk have been limited to the “round the block” mundane after dinner routine or a short walk in the park along a paved pedestrian thoroughfare. Point A to point B. Nothing exciting or stimulating, simply the same old houses or the same old trees. Yes, a nice walk is great for the cardiovascular system, possibly even relaxing to some, but I never saw it as more than that. Exercise for the body and not the soul for that thought never crossed my mind. So, after a breakfast meeting one lovely Spring day, I asked a friend to take a walk in the park. We walked along the humdrum paved path until she pointed to a trail that led off into the wooded area. Would I be willing to travel off the beaten path? As my friend is quite an experienced hiker, I had no worries -at least I didn’t display any anxiety - so I agreed. Within 10 feet off the “secure” paved route, I knew I was hooked.

There is an old saying about “not being able to see the forest for the trees.” How many times have I looked into a wooded area and not seen the beauty that lies within. The path led on and on and my guide pointed to different species of flowers and plants. Cautioning me to avoid the poison ivy. Tidbits of information about life experiences. I was inside the forest and couldn’t see the outside. I was oblivious to the madness of the outer world. I was lost in the wonderment of creation. When the journey ended, I couldn’t believe that that I had only walked a quarter mile of my life.

The next hike was on a gloomy, rainy day along the river. While we were waterlogged at the end of the journey, my spirit was undampened. New life was coursing through my soul. I had often heard the term “spirituality” and equated it with a religious experience, but I was beginning to sense a deeper feeling, something much more definitive of who God is and His wondrous accomplishments. Much more than I can elaborate on in this space. A little over a mile was walked this time. Babysteps.

“Would I be willing to go camping,” my guide asked? “Yes,“ without any doubt or hesitation for I knew I must finally cast aside fears of the past and a darker side of life breaking out of the shell in which I have long been held captive. And a camping we did go. Two restful, peaceful days. Bright, sunny days; a chilly clear star studded evening. Simple meals and a campfire. It was difficult for me to imagine that a little over a month earlier, the entire campground had been under water. Debris was still visible in the trees high above the ground. Along the river, giant trees had been uprooted and strewn along the landscape as if they were matchsticks. But even in adversity, life goes on .

We hiked along a path that took us over a cave until we came to a bluff . We sat listening to the silence, drinking in the beauty of all that God has to offer. Lush greens, bright reds, golden yellows, delicate whites. Large winged birds circled over head. A humming bird hovered within three feet of my face and as we looked at one another it was if we had a question to ask one another. Then he flew away to find the answers of those questions that went unasked. And as I walked down the path, I knew that my quest for answers would never be blocked again by unwillingness to face my fears. While the flood waters caused havoc, the forest still lived on.

Life shouldn't be much different.