Take A Walk on the Wild Side

Why do we sleep on big decisions?  If the decision is that big, that ponderous, no way am I sleeping without the aid of Mr. Basil Hayden or maybe Mr. Don Pablo, which is of course counterproductive. I can’t believe a decision made after a night of self pollution to be at all better than that made previous to the discussion with the distinguished gentlemen. Supposing I am able to sleep without chemical enhancement, who thinks while sleeping?  We dream and maybe if you are lucky it includes an attractive partner, but we can’t control those dreams. The R.E.M. helps the ego, but it can’t be focused.

I have a theory that whoever coined the phrase “sleep on it” choose it as a matter of course because the alternatives were not great. Sit, Stand, Jump, Promenade, Waltz, Ruminate, Ponder, don’t quit have the same weight.  For me I like to walk off heavy thinking…..we will get to that in a bit.

October 9 2011, quite possibly the most perfect day I have ever experienced.  I have been married, watched my sons come into the world have relished great moments of personal victory. Those were amazing days ….but none had the raw natural atmospheric beauty of last Sunday.  Living in the Pennsylvania mediocrity mountains you have to make ready to grab perfect days, you get maybe four a year. (2 between bug and rain seasons, and 2 between slush and humidity seasons) For those days to be on a day when you’re free of the mundane daily domestic grind is truly a rare event. 

We went for a Hike:

Old friends completed our company, their children and ours sallied forth.  Three clouds in the sky sitting right over the lake, framed by the low musty mountains that early October brings to this part of the world. On the lake; 2 islands, big for a lake of this size but too small for the trees crowding over the shore, guarded the boat launch and gave a home to the heron looking for dinner.

Turning our back to the lake, the trail wound through the forest, marked in places with tree blazes and the occasional smudge of flour used to lay out a trail race.  Setting the four kids free at the trail head we settled into the parental rolls of snack mules, traffic control cops and the occasional medicine man.  Peter Pan and the lost boys had nothing on the crew we unleashed.  They devoured the forest, rocks were tilted for hapless salamanders, sassafras and birch trees plundered for the taste of their bark, daddy long leggers had to run for cover.

The youngest bounced down the trail, not quite ever touching the ground, always a hair away from falling.  The oldest child, my son, at times walked quietly lost in thought, then remembering his age would lumber across streams, working his clumsy frame across the rocks without skill or finesse but sheer determination.

Indifferent to their parents or siblings, the middle children mostly seemed to enjoy each other’s company.  Almost the same age they collected acorns, leaves and whatever else in zip lock bags.  They engaged in small talk befitting their 5 years in the midst of showing off with feats of physical prowess capable of melting parents knees.

More or less left to relax, and enjoy a great walk I didn’t really think about anything.  The day could have been plucked from my childhood and I relished it, climbing trees, jumping through streams, showing the kids how fun mud could be….the very definition of rejuvenation.  I enjoyed the “now” and left the trail relaxed and somehow more focused.  The “later” wasn’t nearly as enjoyable as I ate Advil as if the candy coating tasted good.

There are of course days less perfect, days where it rains and you’re happy for it. Days when you need to explode while feeling your chest shrink, bile mounting in your throat.  Days when you wish you could just for a few moments escape reality, or more drastically escape the law.  These are the days when you have to remember the perfect October 9 of 2011.  Look back and see the perfect reflection on the lake, remember the sound of the kids laughing, the subtle pride in catching the garter snake for the kids to touch.  Walk with those memories, forget why you’re walking, walk until you can breathe again.