when 10 years old i spent much of my time in the woods. east texas is undulating and green and often wet. in the spring i took immense pleasure watching birds wade in puddles and bats dive in the night. spring was much about anticipation and its surprises provided me with a deep and sustained pleasure. The area of a rectangle is powerful in its simplicity while the area of a circle, to my ten year old mind, was enigmatic. How to cut it up, how to make it fit. The natural world did not show itself as puzzled or hidden. Insects seemed predictable. But the circle ? Not so much. And though the older people spoke. of the formula containing pi, I did not trust any of it. I wanted the puzzle to last, the mystery to propel me. To my everlasting delight the natural world and the circle have become close friends. Both conspire to tease and amuse. I remain ten years old.
Beautiful piece. I long for weekends like that and finding the strength to not have to “produce.” I feel that way in my happy places — the desert, the Irish coast, the mountains. But it takes time to get there. I fall back into a memory when in those places, the “thin” places, as they call them, to when I was a boy walking the Pennsylvania woods with my dog. Those days are frequently recalled now when I’m out in nature.
Such a question to ponder. I love the stillness of a lake a little more than I used to; the river always resinates but as I age and the current appears swifter I hold a sense of caution and my eyes shift to the lake.
Survey-wise, I worry not about the risk of being pigeonholed as I’m seldom the person I appear to be.
I’m a river that doesn’t resist the pull of gravity downstream, pausing to suspend in the small lakes along the terrain. I stare in wonder as I float by the beaver dam. The reservoir recedes as I tumble over rocks that remember their birth in the Precambrian Age. I’ve often been captured as ice but always felt release, to continue my flow. Upon arrival in the ocean I again rise in elation to repeat this journey.
it is pleasant to aim, but also to look away, and adopt the posture of a creature washed up on the lake shore, needing food but also apprehensive and ready to find things beneath rocks, behind limbs floating and pointing.
when 10 years old i spent much of my time in the woods. east texas is undulating and green and often wet. in the spring i took immense pleasure watching birds wade in puddles and bats dive in the night. spring was much about anticipation and its surprises provided me with a deep and sustained pleasure. The area of a rectangle is powerful in its simplicity while the area of a circle, to my ten year old mind, was enigmatic. How to cut it up, how to make it fit. The natural world did not show itself as puzzled or hidden. Insects seemed predictable. But the circle ? Not so much. And though the older people spoke. of the formula containing pi, I did not trust any of it. I wanted the puzzle to last, the mystery to propel me. To my everlasting delight the natural world and the circle have become close friends. Both conspire to tease and amuse. I remain ten years old.
The puzzle remains, yes!! I love this. Thank you, Henry.
Beautiful piece. I long for weekends like that and finding the strength to not have to “produce.” I feel that way in my happy places — the desert, the Irish coast, the mountains. But it takes time to get there. I fall back into a memory when in those places, the “thin” places, as they call them, to when I was a boy walking the Pennsylvania woods with my dog. Those days are frequently recalled now when I’m out in nature.
It does take strength, David!! So well said. Love these examples and completely agree re: nature (though it's getting a little frigid here in Ohio).
Warmer weather coming your way... Chicago is 48 today! :)
Such a question to ponder. I love the stillness of a lake a little more than I used to; the river always resinates but as I age and the current appears swifter I hold a sense of caution and my eyes shift to the lake.
Stillness is such a beautiful thing. Sara, if you haven't, read some of Pico Iyer's words on Stillness. So inspiring.
Survey-wise, I worry not about the risk of being pigeonholed as I’m seldom the person I appear to be.
I’m a river that doesn’t resist the pull of gravity downstream, pausing to suspend in the small lakes along the terrain. I stare in wonder as I float by the beaver dam. The reservoir recedes as I tumble over rocks that remember their birth in the Precambrian Age. I’ve often been captured as ice but always felt release, to continue my flow. Upon arrival in the ocean I again rise in elation to repeat this journey.
How beautiful, Jim! You appear to be pretty great, so I can only glimpse and guess all that you are. Thanks for sharing this.
Paddle to the sea. Hollings C. Hollings. A beautiful story of a river
it is pleasant to aim, but also to look away, and adopt the posture of a creature washed up on the lake shore, needing food but also apprehensive and ready to find things beneath rocks, behind limbs floating and pointing.