Say Yes

Sometimes when Monte and I are reading, one of us will say 'listen to this' and proceed to read aloud whatever it was that excited us enough to want to share it. In my case, it might be a passage I find beautifully written or a poem that somehow resonates. With Monte, it is more likely to be wry political commentary or word of some new technological innovation he thinks could have utility in our lives. I readily admit that I only half listen to the technology stuff, and I hope there is never a quiz on all he's told me, because I don't think I could pass it even if it were multiple choice. But I can tell from his responses that he doesn't listen all that intently to my little offerings either. We have perfected a vocabulary of h-m-m-s and grunts and generic little inanities ("Oh, really?" is a good one, or even just, "Cool") and no one feels slighted, as far as I can tell.

Monte got my full attention, however, when he began to read these words from Dante yesterday morning:

In the middle of the journey of our life

I found myself in a dark wood,

for the straight way was lost.

Ah how hard to say what a harsh thing was

that wood savage and rough and hard

that to think about it renews the fear!

Turns out these lines were quoted in a Wall Street Journal article about middle age, or that ambiguous period of life in the 40s and maybe even the 50s (which, let's face it, is significantly past the middle) when folks really struggle with the diminishing opportunities to reconcile their youthful hopes and visions with their realities. If I heard correctly, studies show that the times before and after this middle phase are happier, or at least less unhappy. (I can testify to having spent some time in that dark wood myself lately.)

So with Dante our breakfast guest, we talked about how important it is to try to make the most of this season of life when we are still in reasonable possession of our faculties and physical abilities. And then the phone rang and Gary serendipitously invited us to go for a walk with him in the backcountry that afternoon in search of a certain waterfall that he figured might be pretty impressive after all the recent rains.

We said yes.

So maybe this is nothing more than a post about a walk. But what a walk it was! We traversed hills and crossed creeks and stood beneath the branches of ancient oaks. (In one green meadow, white bones were strewn about -- the word mortality was mentioned.) Meanwhile, cattle grazed peaceably and our jackets flapped in the wind and we heard the roar of rushing water and there was indeed a mighty waterfall but we couldn't get close to it and only marveled from afar. The sky was sun and clouds but now and then came a quick wash of rain and time held us green and dying, as Dylan Thomas put it, but we sang in our chains like the sea.

And then, as we crested the hill at the top of the home stretch, lo and behold, a rainbow -- a full arch, and then its fainter double above it. I'd been hoping for rainbows all day.

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And if I were to read a poem aloud at that moment it probably would have been something like these lines from E.E. Cummings:

i thank You God for most this amazing

day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees,

and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything

which is natural which is infinite which is yes.