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There’s a glossiness to it.  A remembered sensate perception of calm, joy, light and warmth.  It’s a glimpse of well-being I used to equate with a certainty of the existence of God.  Often, I experience it in nature, walking through sun-dappled trees, green in all her varied shades, punctuated with dabs of purple, red, and yellow.  Birds chirping and flying, squirrels and other unseen critters scampering among scattered leaves, birch trees and mighty oaks and gnarly walnuts, their trunks peeling or textured or wrapped in vines.  It would not matter if I walked alone—often, it was my preference—or accompanied by another human presence.  Satisfaction enveloped me, cocooned my body in its goodness. 

Always, this is what I hunger for.  It sustains me, even just the memory of those moments.  And often, it alone is enough, just enough.  More than enough! 

One cannot seek it out or endeavor to manufacture these moments.  But to place myself within the bounty of nature and beauty, the silence of the earth, what I hunger for does not disappoint.  The need will be fed.  A desire for comfort can be found within the depths of a quiet wood, under benevolent skies, with an eager eye and an open heart.

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Steve placed the King James, opened face-down, on a three-legged stool, not far from the searing heat of the roaring fire. Revelations had nothing to reveal to him. It made no sense, no matter which way he sliced and diced the thing. He felt as if he’d lost his way over the years, finally unshackled from the orthodoxy of indoctrination that had gripped him at an early, impressionable age and that was, he thought, fine by him.

Religion had lost its luster. The hold it had on him had become looser and flimsier in this, his eighth decade on the planet. Nature was his god now. His mind was sound, his 75-year-old body still fit and trim. Daily walks on the beach, gathering driftwood, sifting through tidal wrack to unearth man’s middle finger of careless disregard for the beauty and awe of the world, had taught him many things, not the least of which was the propensity of humans to look outside themselves for solace, for answers, for comfort. All that was required was within. Steve understood this now.

Majestic nature, the silence of being, the grandeur of it all inspired his devotion: oceans, mountains, streams and fields and hills, lakes, creeks, ponds and marshes. The diversity of plants and animals, the glorious and changing seasons, the powerfully awesome forces of the skies – these were no trifles. They were his all. These spiritual elements comprised the core of who he was and what he believed in. More importantly, they inspired him to live in the moment and to be grateful for every morsel of this beautiful cocoon that enveloped him in its tender, ferocious arms.

At one time, he felt torn about his evolving views. No more. This was Life and he would cherish and nurture and enjoy it for as long as he was fortunate enough to do so.

Daily Prompt: Torn

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Assimilation
Mightily so with a good stiff breeze
Or gradually over time
Thanks to gentle stirrings, peppered with patience.

New growths occur
Some perhaps at great distances.
Nature has her ways
And always provides – well, when she’s not feeling feisty.

Randomness
In the world
Accounts for much of the way of things.
Fairness – not so much…

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These beautiful trees, on just the other side of the fairway where we live, always take my breath away. I can be carrying a load of laundry or walking into the kitchen or looking up from a good book and I’ll spy the gorgeous fall colors of these trees across the way.

I have a family member – more than one, now that I think of it – who laments the months of September and October because of ‘what comes next’. How sad. As for me, I fully appreciate the joy and exquisite splendor of not just fall but every season, come what may. For I know that everything around us is forever changing and evolving and I prefer to enjoy the jubilant majesty of what nature provides, right here and right now.