One gallon jug.

Photo by: Tim Bindner Photography

Once again I started on a short journey alone.  I came back with many other things.

I went to my favorite place Mt. St. Francis, or at least my most familiar place.  I arrived in the parking lot and not a single car was there.  The sense of isolation was very calming.  Today’s trek was going to be a little tougher than normal.  I was sore from a 6+ mile hike the day before, the time changed last night (lost an hour), and the normal time of sunrise was now different.

As I headed down the paved path toward the lake I could feel a cool breeze caressing my face.  The wind felt different today.  Not sure if it was because I was a bit sore and tired, but the wind made me ache in someplace deeper than my bones.  Likely touching something old in my soul back from the dawn of man, telling me to move or die.  As winter has not yet lost her grip I felt a sense of what old settlers or native tribes must have felt.  The need to keep moving, to look for a better place.  In this high tech world I do not have to worry about migrating or dying, but my purpose here today was just that to keep moving and enjoy what nature has provided me.

I made my way to the lake and entered the woods.  I recalled a saying from Shirley Jackson’s book The Haunting of Hill House and at the moment it struck me “and whatever walked there, walked alone.”  I was alone with my thoughts, and most of the time that leads to a lot of anxiety, stress and worry, but not here.  The woods are like the rocks in a creek.  As the water, or in this case my thoughts flow, the woods and nature, like those rocks filter out all the waste.  I had many thoughts but with more of a sense of clarity than in my everyday life.

I walked a total of 3.53 miles today.  The journey did many things for me.  Physically I loosened up my sore muscles, mentally I was loosened up as well and thinking clearer, and yea spiritually I was at peace.  Parts of my hike I could hear distant echoes of the church bells ringing calling local worshipers to the church on the property.  As I heard them I thought, I’m already halfway through my “mass”.

Once I returned to the car I knew I would no longer be alone.  I would be seeing the groups of families scatter like ants in a rush to get to church on time.  On the way, however, I spotted the bottle seen here in the woods.  It was an old one-gallon glass jar that was either left or purposely placed on a log.  I could see the green moss inside the bottle from a distance.  As I drew closer a smile quickly enveloped my face, as my thoughts of how nature took this “trash” over, and likely that moss was a nice bed and shelter for some small creature.

Arrive back at my car, as expected, I saw cars racing in to find a parking spot and the people scurrying from their cars into the church.  I took my time and thought about this fast-food culture we have and was so glad God allowed me to visit him in a relaxed calm way today.  I took my time, gave thanks to him, and wondered in his true church.  And those things I brought back were both physical and emotional.  I found a small rubber ball, that I hoped I saved a life of a small animal from chocking, I also came backfilled with joy, peace, and fulfillment that only the trails can provide me.

Until next time,

Tim