Lost

Good Morning Readers,

In my post two Saturdays ago, I mentioned that I have a childhood friend who is retiring from a large corporation this month and that we had reconnected recently. I’ve been writing a couple poems from childhood memories that reminded me of him so I reached out to him. During our phone call, I asked him what he planned to do after retirement. He said he doesn’t have anything that he really wants to do.

We were best friends when we were kids. Our parents were friends. We went on family trips together. His maternal grandparents lived across a cow pasture from my maternal grandparents. There were many connections between his life and mine.

We went to school together for several years. In 7^th grade I left our church school, Pilgrim Lutheran School, and went to a private school. Our paths started to diverge. We saw less and less of each other over the years until we didn’t contact each other again until my mother died four years ago. And, then again recently.

In reflecting on our lives and the importance of purpose in my life, I don’t want to judge my friend. I have to have purpose. Meaning matters to me enormously. Tis the Christmas season, which is also the shopping and buying season for many people. I drive my family a little crazy because I pretty much never want anything. I am probably one of the least consumer-oriented people you will ever meet. Perhaps to a fault.

For a person like me, having purpose and meaning is almost everything. David Wagoner wrote a poem for people who need purpose and where to find it. Here it is.

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Lost

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you,
If you leave it you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.

David Wagoner

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I like the “stand still” that starts the poem. We have too much movement and noise in our lives. Wagoner says, don’t move. Stand still. Be quiet. Reflect and do this in nature, in the woods. I love being in the mountains in the woods. I am an avid snow skier. I don’t do it for the speed. I don’t like to ski on groomed runs very much. I don’t like to ski under chairlifts. I like to ski in the trees, where it is quiet, away from other people. I like the solitude of the forests. In the summer, I like to hike in the forests, often off-trail. I find that the combination of movement, being alone, and being in the forest helps me be creative. I think of all kinds of good ideas. I find I am most at home with myself in that setting and am continuously reenergized. My batteries are recharged.

These are my questions for you this week: Where do you go for solitude? What do you gain from going to that place? If it is in nature, what are the benefits for you of being in nature?

I look forward to hearing your comments.

David