All Things Bright & Beautiful

I spent this morning north of the city. I needed to get out of the race for awhile and sit by a lake or river, some place dominated by the awesome balance of nature vs. the suffocating imbalance of mankind. I see the masses race by, always in such a hurry, incessantly texting or making love to their Blackberry's, ignoring the sensitivity of others and the needs of the larger community, blinded by selfishness and arrogance and capitalism. My chest aches from the frustration, from the realization that I DO NOT BELONG HERE. Who are these people? What's their hurry? 

I drove aimlessly for about half an hour before an urge to take a random left turn brought me to the bank of a natural lake and an organic community of birds, insects, trees, flowers, and something I hadn't heard in a very long while: the hush of silence, the song of tranquility. I must have sat in the car for 20 minutes, God-smacked by the beauty and simplicity, the slow tempo of Mother Earth being left to her own devices, before I finally strolled down to the water. 

Answers come in stillness. Messages from your soul find a pass through the rubble and, if you're gentle with yourself, serve as a healing balm. Suddenly I heard, in my head, the opening bars of John Rutter's "All Things Bright & Beautiful". I went with it, trite as it seemed to be thinking of it in the first place. I heard the angelic voices of the Cambridge Singers:

All things bright and beautiful,

All creatures great and small;

All things wise and wonderful,

The Lord God made them all.

It had come to my attention just yesterday that I am not "built" for the race. The funny thing is, I've known that since I was a small child. A serial loner by nature, I had been going against the very grain of my soul by attempting to pass as one of the "runners" for most of my life. Last night, when my friend B brought over her vacation pictures from Estes Park, I found myself unable to say much more than "Whoa" and "Oh, my God" at the sight of the mountains and streams and wildlife. To live among that landscape is medicinal to me. Years ago, when I lived a stone's throw from the ocean, I still had one foot in the race. I couldn't fully appreciate the beauty of my surroundings. It's time to return.

My goal now is to officially leave the race by the age of 40. That gives me a few years to prepare. I want the second half of my life to be about what matters, what heals, and not about the myth that the race has a finish line. Because it doesn't. It's a futile journey. The runners will never truly be satisfied until they have MORE at any cost (Bernard Madoff is a prime example). I'd rather live under a bridge then be THAT guy.

At any rate, I spent nearly an hour by that lake and returned to the city with a fresh perspective. The race will not disempower me any further, because my heart has already left it. It's time to start saving my pennies for the larger plan, a journey without smoke and mirrors, a life on my own terms, surrounded by "all things bright & beautiful".

God, give me strength.

"Happiness is not the absence of conflict, but the ability to cope with it." --- Anon.