River

I was in a wretched space yesterday with my husband, which is my pattern whenever I restart my work to live in a state of awareness, presence. It's as though the sleeping part of me puts up the nastiest fight it can conjure in an effort to keep me wrapped up in my thoughts rather than awake to what's happening around me.

Husband and son let me sleep in this morning, and I woke to find my husband cleaning up after completing a fair-sized house project I'd asked for his help on. I had been lying in bed for a few minutes upon waking, watching my brain list off all the things in my life I was irritated about, but the scene I came upon, of the finished project and happy family, nipped the pattern in the bud, for today at least.

As tense as yesterday was, today outdid it with beauty by far. Spent our hours together, working on little pet projects, napping, playing in the warm yard, eating great food we'd prepared during the week. In the afternoon, shortly before dinner, we took the boy tricylcing on a path down the street from our house that runs beside old railroad tracks. On a whim, we jutted off into the woods on a path I'd followed with the dog a few years back, and came upon the same pretty little peninsula covered with tall pines that I'd found then. Only today, it was exquisite. It overlooks a river, slow and easy and silent but for birdsong and chipmunk chatter.

The afternoon sun glittered on the river that we had all to ourselves and streamed in ribbons of light through the temple of pines, the light and shadow playing throughout, making the forest and river look like a painting of one of the Old Masters - only a millionfold lovelier, because it was real, it was life.

My husband and the boy went to investigate a little shallow sandy area, and I walked along the banks of the river, admiring the bare ledges under the water that had been washed clean over the eons by the river's slow current. At one point, peering into a washed-out cavern under the roots of a great pine, I found myself face to face with a garter snake sunning itself on the rock the roots grew on.

As I walked back over to join my family after exploring, my husband was pointing out the minnows to our boy, then said "Oh, look! Look at this!", reaching into the clear water and lifting up a baby turtle that was swimming by. The scene was already so wondrous, and then this little creature, this ancient new creature, appeared to punctuate how precious this day was.

I found myself several times imagining some unfortunate event occurring, realizing at the same time that it was simply because the scene, the time we spent there, were full of so much pleasure, such utter beauty in nature, that it was hard for me to simply accept it and treasure it. It felt as if we had come upon Eden itself, and I knew that there were places all over the earth that people come upon similarly, exquisite places on the earth still growing as the earth originally fashioned them, the forests still standing, the waters still clean.