Thursday, April 17, 2014
(Continued from page 1)
Then, on a much smaller scale, I repeat the same movements for myself with a bag of Swedish coffee and a cone drip pot. By the time the water is churning to a boil, I hear the dog's nails clicking carefully down the wooden stairs, the immediate tick-tock in the clock of the day.
I could go on like this forever, and sometimes do, stretching the hard-won indolence of a Saturday morning or Sunday afternoon into a pursuit of high importance: doing nothing special, a saving grace. Rest.
I'm no longer trying to be something or become somebody in any other world than this precious one that I have made my own -- an acre of harmony, a home amid the trees. It takes so little to have too much -- the burden of acquisitions weighing us down. It is enough to navigate along preserved forest paths or rocky coastlines we do not own but are offered, as stewards, to hold; to reacquaint ourselves with the lost satisfactions of just being outdoors and discovering a downed limb that serves as an ideal walking stick. It is all wealth to be had to be able to pluck a scallop or oyster shell and marveling at the intricacy of its manufacture and the complexity of its color.
I am working my way toward nothingness, paring down to essentials, and perhaps past that grasping level, too. I am molting, shedding all I do not need in favor of something lighter and true. I am growing new feathers, a more suitable shell. All I want now is the chance to fly with the song of morning or move deeper into the deeply shadowed sea of my soul. Soaring or reaching the foundation of things -- it's all the same, my last task, my first love.
North Cairn can be contacted at 791-6325 or at: