(January 3, 2016) I like to imagine myself as a deer in the woods; long-legged and leaping from one place to next. This is how I envision my experience. In reality, in the woods, I follow my love (not to the fields, Wendell Berry – the woods are even better) and am so happy to trot along after him, not deer, more like puppy. I’d follow you wherever you go. Until I seek permission to race ahead like deer, because really I’m too independent for too much following, and run too fast. Unlike deer, I get tuckered out (more like puppy) within a mile. However, out of sheer stubbornness mixed with pure love for the woods, I go round for another 4 mile loop. Four miles in the woods is more like 7 on the roads. I am tired, but when I emerge from the woods with my head hanging and unable to walk in a straight line, he is there waiting for me patiently at the car. His welcoming smile makes everything good. I am deer – I am puppy – I am Christine, full of the woods and all their good things.
(Wendell Berry’s Manifesto: The Mad Farmer’s Liberation Front reads, “Go with your love to the fields. / Lie down in the shade. Rest your head / in her lap. Swear allegiance / to what is nighest your thoughts.)
(Image from Google Images / Youtube)
(January 9, 2016) A little rain doesn’t stop the dedicated runners, especially when the setting is serene Eagle Creek Park. My goofy leaping about as we get ready to step on the trail betrays my feelings; not that I was ever one to hide my excitement, anyway. The sky is heavy gray, the tree branches are bare except for the stubborn yellow leaves hanging out on the undergrowth, and the path is clearly marked. As I run beside this man, the pace feeling relaxed and easy, I think back to other days with other people, when I believed their happiness was my responsibility and I was weighed down with guilt over things I couldn’t control. This man, even though he feels “off” on this morning with a weather front coming in, gives me nothing but his smiles when I look at him. There is something within me that is very reassured by this, some deep-seated fear or maybe memory being overlaid by this new experience of someone smiling back at you when you check in with them, someone who really wants you to be here with them. Or maybe part of it is that I’m finally able to believe – to know – that I am wanted here. I’m not sure what exactly it is, but I know that here in these woods, on this rainy January day in Indianapolis, something is being healed.