Feeding the Hungry Heart

Thanks to Hurricane Fay, it has been raining all week. It began in earnest on Sunday, the day I chose to go hiking in Sweetwater Creek State Park. Yes, good timing, that.

Anyway, I had taken an umbrella, a bottle of water and some trail mix, so I felt fully prepared, and I got some nice pictures. This fern is one of them. I felt pretty artsy when I took it.

I began the day with mass, as I was scheduled to sing on Sunday. Normally, with an activity like hiking planned, I would have gone to the evening mass on Saturday, but as Deacon Bill would say, I was working the noon mass this weekend.

As it happens, Joe the organist sped through all the music at noon, for reasons known only to him. I don't think anyone minded, except me, though it wasn't because I wanted to add any particular spin to the songs. It's just that singing and breathing are vitally intertwined, so a quick song poses an interesting dilemma over how to do both. Fortunately, since I wanted to get some hiking time in before too much of the day had passed, people seemed satisfied when I sang on getting their spiritual hunger satisfied with the gift of finest wheat at a fast clip rather than at a more gentle or contemplative pace.

So back to the woods. Sweetwater Creek park is an interesting jewel in the center of an urban sprawl. Unlike many people I encounter there, I don't trudge through the place intent on getting exercise. Mainly this is because I'm a big girl with a bad back and regardless of how fast or slow I go, walking 4 or 5 miles is going to count as exercise for me. But the other reason is that when you speed through the trails to accomplish having hiked the trail, in my opinion you might as well have done your 5 miles on a treadmill at Gold's gym. Frankly, you miss everything.

For example, no one noticed the turtle, big as a dinner plate, sunning himself on the shoals in the creek. Or the tree frogs dancing around the base of a tree near the falls. Or what I'm certain was a blue-tailed skink. You can see my picture of him (or her) here.

In fairness, they also missed the two snakes. But I'll tell you something, they were just red corn snakes which they say make great pets. Not my pets, but that's what they say. I saw the first one while I was looking for the dinner plate sized turtle. I spotted the second one when I fell face forward into a tidal pool in the shoals. Later, I also got a little lost.

Maybe you're glad you missed my adventures. Maybe Gold's gym is sounding better and better. It's okay if you feel that way. All I'm saying is this: I went to the woods this weekend, and I have the bruises to prove it. And the stories. If I'd gone to the gym, I wouldn't have bruises or memories of snake encounters, but I probably wouldn't have remembered it, period.

Kahlil Gibran said, "When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight."

I guess that's not conventional wisdom, but I see it. You value the things that require something from you. When you lose a loved one, weren't they first your joy? When you find your joy, isn't your delight due in part to the fact that at one time you hungered for it? If you hadn't missed it to begin with, would it have satisfied so completely when you found it? I think not.

Sunday, I went to the woods, and found joy in it. I guess without realizing it, I had hungered for it. It was nice to feel alive again, instead of lazy on a Sunday. It was a nice change from apathy.

--Laura