Recently I spent a few days in log cabin in the mountains. Except for the low roar of a stream that meandered through the woods, all was absolutely quiet. Sitting by the window, I watched the play of light and shade on the rapids and the curves etched on the rocks by the water. As my inner pace slowed down, the rush of everyday faded, I found myself gravitating towards books from a much slower time - 1950s and prior in hardcover. For a moment I was able to imagine living a very different sort of life than I do today, doing things that I may have never considered a possibility.
It was time to return soon and the spell broke as soon as I was home and back to my routine. If it were possible to take a time-out for a month maybe six and slow down until it you see every detail in your surroundings, feel the wind, sun and rain with real intensity, maybe you end up discovering what you were actually meant to do with your life. I have tried to read Walden before but could not get through it - after this experience, I wondered if it takes a certain amount of mental stillness to get into the zone that Thoreau demands. This time, I might be more ready.
crossings as in traversals, contradictions, counterpoints of the heart though often not..
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