10/25/25
A walk today in the mid-afternoon sun on a nearly deserted lake front road stimulated my senses. As I approached the water, it was so quiet that I could hear the wind rustling the Pampas grass by the water’s edge while insects in the reeds trilled to each other, oblivious to my presence. An occasional bird flew overhead, soundlessly, without a note or call. The scent of cedar greeted me as I climbed the hill. A gentle breeze tickled my nose as it passed by and ruffled my hair. In the distance, I could hear an occasional hum from traffic on Route 522 or a power boat tooling along the lake. A mowing service unloaded a couple of giant zero turn mowers and began to groom the yards of homes in the distance, but still the silence was barely interrupted. Everywhere I looked there was beauty and order in the late October landscape.
The quiet and peace were tangible as I continued my walk over gently rolling hills. For once my thoughts, worries and ruminations were quelled. I could get used to quiet walks like this, watching ripples on the water and following the swoops and dives of birds enjoying the crisp fall air. Is this what heaven is like? I have never claimed to be a good Christian. I don’t believe in biblical descriptions of fire and brimstone, nor do I subscribe to visions of pearly gates, choirs of angels and an old man in a white robe offering the newly departed entrance into heaven. None of that feels right to me. Like fairy tales, those stories seem more allegorical and serve as tales to guide appropriate behavior. I hope that my departed loved ones get to enjoy the serenity and beauty of a place like this!
What surprises me these days is how often I am drawn into the current of the natural world. My brain wants to tune out the mechanical things, the drone of the 24-hour news cycle, the distant sound of construction of yet another million-dollar home. Instead, what I notice is the sparkling quality of the golden light, the bright blue sky filled with layers of puffy white clouds, and the trees that are slowly trying to turn yellow or brown. Here and there I see a bright pop of russet across the lake or the purplish hue of a Japanese maple. The dry conditions have made the fall colors more subtle this year, yet the landscape is painted with seasonal hues, nonetheless.
Internally, I am growing to accept this autumnal phase of life. My work as an educator is still fulfilling in simple ways, but increasingly I am being drawn to writing and inward growth. Career building is slowing down while my volunteer efforts ramp up. As I turn the bend and begin my walk home, I feel satisfied. I have done what I set out to do. In the song, Landslide, Stevie Nick’s eloquently asks, “Can I handle the seasons of my life?” I have been contemplating this song a lot since my youngest son left home and I observe him moving into the summer of his life. Yes, I can embrace this new season. It is not so scary to transition into fall when I recognize that I have worked hard to prepare and that I can reap the fruits of my labor. I may not know what comes next, but I hope it feels more like a gorgeous autumn day and a mindful walk under mackerel skies.
Mindful Musings 