The Greatest Clues

I like the implausibility of things. For example, yesterday's New Year's Day walk. I think a walk to a high place is the perfect way to start the year, and I invited a few friends to join me. In response there were mostly regretful declines, and a couple of affirmatives followed swiftly by reversals. It was after all, New Year's, and some people actually do step out, stay awake, and party the night before. But two fine companions showed up: a young Lauren who was long-ago a student of mine, and a gregarious Dave, whom I've also known for years. (Dave is an equine veterinarian who was technically on call but willing to hike anyway; he's always enthusiastic, and I love that about him.)

In this little community of ours, lives are very interconnected and shared histories go way back. Dave and his family have known Lauren since she was a baby, and we all have many mutual friends...this is a one-degree-of-separation kind of place. More than once as we walked, I thought about the ease with which we call upon each other for both need and celebration, and I was struck by the rarity and preciousness of such enduring ties. Still, we were an unlikely trio in an unlikely setting, and the first morning of a new year seems intrinsically momentous. There was a sense of mystery and grace in simply being here.The hills were almost iridescent in their greenness and everything felt promising and fresh.  We talked a lot, trying to glean the wisdom from whatever we'd experienced and brace ourselves for journeys ahead, but sometimes just looking at scat and paw prints. We found a spot warmed by sunshine where a sandstone rampart sheltered us from breezes, and we sat around a pool of sky and rainwater drinking tea and writing imaginary postcards to the universe (Lauren's idea) that we sent into the air with kisses. The postcards spoke of hopes,  intents, and thankfulness, very much like prayer.

Afterwards, browsing through a book at home,  I came upon this quote by Frederick Buechner: "Maybe it's all utterly meaningless. Maybe it's all unutterably meaningful. If you want to know which, pay attention to what it means to be truly human in a world that half the time we're in love with and half the time scares the hell out of us. Any fiction that helps us pay attention to that is religious fiction. The unexpected sound of your name on somebody's lips. The good dream. The strange coincidence. The moment that brings tears to your eyes. The person who brings life to your life. Even the smallest events hold the greatest clues."