Wallace Stevens wrote "Perhaps the truth depends upon a walk around the lake." There are no lakes in my neighborhood, and the ocean definitely isn't walkable, so I took another route, and hiked a meandering trail in the forest. It was an afternoon where I'd come to a dead stop, tired of my own thoughts and my own company, and unwilling to inflict my blues on anyone else. So? I took Stevens' advice, and headed out for a walk.
I chose the path that headed downhill. Maybe it was a metaphor for how I felt in the moment. At some point it struck me that since I'd been walking downhill for quite awhile, I'd eventually have to climb back up. This was not an appetizing prospect. I looked back over my shoulder. Sure enough, it was up, up and more up.
I hadn't found any of that "truth" Stevens promised yet, so I just kept on going. When I saw a trail branch off to the right, heading uphill this time, I remembered the advice of another poet and decided to take the road less traveled. This one climbed up and up, and then at the turn of a bend just as quickly plunged downward. It was at this downward ebb, in the path and in my energy, that I headed off on a deer trail, deeper into the woods, anything to keep from a downhill leading to another uphill climb.
The thing about a climb like this one is that it produces a much different effect than the meandering walk I had anticipated. A climb takes attention. There are rocks that are slippery and toe holds to search out. The body sweats and thoughts focus on the climb and not much else. It becomes a one foot after another meditation. The breath deepens. Muscles expand and contract. Body leads and mind takes the back seat.
Eventually, I reached the top of this particular hill, and while the view was lovely, it really was the journey and not the destination that was significant. I don't know if I found my promised "truth." I certainly didn't have an epiphany. But when I made it off the hill, dusty and tired, I felt at peace again. I had sweated out the blues and reconnected with a quieter way of knowing and being in the world.
I recommend a walk around the lake for whatever ails you. The forest in autumn has secrets to share, if we'll listen . . .
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