Just go for a walk. One of the many things said to clear one’s head and open doors, shut old ones and bring about a sense of peace.
And peace, in my recent transition, was something I most desired.
I got word of a nearby park and cemetery and decided to take a walk.
And why, if that old piece of advice didn’t hold true.
I had to walk through the park to get to the cemetery itself, which was set upon a great hill. Once inside I felt a rush of tranquility brush through me, and felt at home. All worry seemed to escape me. As I walked further up I could see the mountains, the great bodies of water surrounding the city and the beautiful headstones of those that had lived and died here before me.
The cawing of crows was ever present. Such light they bring. They’ve always been a favorite bird of mine, and it was if they almost knew that their company would bring me great comfort.
I walked among the headstones, careful not to step on any heads and had a long think. I really was in the right place. A place of calm. A place where normal life could take place. Chaos was nowhere to be found. I realized that, there among the dead, that I had always placed myself in the center of chaos, my participating in it was irrelevant. I was always among it. And there I found the underlying cause of my anxiety. I was in a good place. A place without violence, anger or constant hum. This is why I was here and this was why the gypsy had been so insistent on my coming and my leaving New York. I needed to learn how to live in peace.
The dead always bring out the answers for me. I’m always most at home in cemeteries, and not to sound like a crazy person, (although it may sound as such), I’m much more alive among the deceased. There is so much to be learned and appreciated from the dead. So much knowledge and experience. If you keep your mind still enough, you can hear their stories and feel their warmth.
In sum, my journey had been a great success thus far.
But there was something on my mind as I made my decent back down the hill and toward the exit, (it was closing time and I didn’t feel like running my new stockings climbing over the fence, so I didn’t linger), that there was one more stop to be made. Now mind you, I didn’t know the area, but on my way to my destination, on a street corner tucked away in the shadows, I noticed a line of small brick and stone shops. For the life of me I couldn’t get the idea out of my head that I needed to see what they held. I didn’t think it was much, I saw one sold athletic equipment, and that was of no interest to me.
So, on my way back, I crossed the street and had a look. To my surprise at the end of the row was a bookstore. I debated on crossing and going in, I wasn’t in the mood for living conversation, but something was almost pushing me to go.
I looked into the window and saw that it wasn’t an ordinary book store at all. But a theosophical and mystical one...
I went inside; the energy was divine. After poking about and buying a few things, the woman behind the counter asked if I’d like to see the library. There was a library! A room full of ancient, metaphysical texts, over 6,000 in volume. Every practice one could imagine. The universe had once again, pushed me in the right direction.
The librarian emerged from a dark corner, a pleasant one shaded by the large evergreen trees outside.
I asked her about the lending policy and lectures. She greeted me and explained it’s workings with such an open and warm manner. I was taken aback. Speaking to this woman was like speaking to an old friend or elder. My armor, made solid and heavy in New York had in an instant, dissipated.
I explained to her that I had just moved here and was relieved to see that such a place was in my neighborhood. We talked a few more minutes and she left me with a smile and a sincere, “welcome back,” as if she had been expecting me...
Welcome back. So maybe this was home after all, and maybe this wasn’t my first time. Maybe I wasn’t a stranger after all.
Life is only as strange as we make it, and after today, I’ll no longer be looking to complicate my own mind with the “whys” of worry.
I found my peace and pieces today. The jig is up, the puzzle has been laid out.
For further reading:
Hi, Have You Met Me? on Amazon/Kindle http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00B009W1M
and
There's No Good Campfires Left In Hell on Amazon/Kindle http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00H7CZ590
Or Paperback at http://www.lulu.com/shop/kate-monahan/theres-no-good-campfires-left-in-hell/paperback/product-21276242.html
And peace, in my recent transition, was something I most desired.
I got word of a nearby park and cemetery and decided to take a walk.
And why, if that old piece of advice didn’t hold true.
I had to walk through the park to get to the cemetery itself, which was set upon a great hill. Once inside I felt a rush of tranquility brush through me, and felt at home. All worry seemed to escape me. As I walked further up I could see the mountains, the great bodies of water surrounding the city and the beautiful headstones of those that had lived and died here before me.
The cawing of crows was ever present. Such light they bring. They’ve always been a favorite bird of mine, and it was if they almost knew that their company would bring me great comfort.
I walked among the headstones, careful not to step on any heads and had a long think. I really was in the right place. A place of calm. A place where normal life could take place. Chaos was nowhere to be found. I realized that, there among the dead, that I had always placed myself in the center of chaos, my participating in it was irrelevant. I was always among it. And there I found the underlying cause of my anxiety. I was in a good place. A place without violence, anger or constant hum. This is why I was here and this was why the gypsy had been so insistent on my coming and my leaving New York. I needed to learn how to live in peace.
The dead always bring out the answers for me. I’m always most at home in cemeteries, and not to sound like a crazy person, (although it may sound as such), I’m much more alive among the deceased. There is so much to be learned and appreciated from the dead. So much knowledge and experience. If you keep your mind still enough, you can hear their stories and feel their warmth.
In sum, my journey had been a great success thus far.
But there was something on my mind as I made my decent back down the hill and toward the exit, (it was closing time and I didn’t feel like running my new stockings climbing over the fence, so I didn’t linger), that there was one more stop to be made. Now mind you, I didn’t know the area, but on my way to my destination, on a street corner tucked away in the shadows, I noticed a line of small brick and stone shops. For the life of me I couldn’t get the idea out of my head that I needed to see what they held. I didn’t think it was much, I saw one sold athletic equipment, and that was of no interest to me.
So, on my way back, I crossed the street and had a look. To my surprise at the end of the row was a bookstore. I debated on crossing and going in, I wasn’t in the mood for living conversation, but something was almost pushing me to go.
I looked into the window and saw that it wasn’t an ordinary book store at all. But a theosophical and mystical one...
I went inside; the energy was divine. After poking about and buying a few things, the woman behind the counter asked if I’d like to see the library. There was a library! A room full of ancient, metaphysical texts, over 6,000 in volume. Every practice one could imagine. The universe had once again, pushed me in the right direction.
The librarian emerged from a dark corner, a pleasant one shaded by the large evergreen trees outside.
I asked her about the lending policy and lectures. She greeted me and explained it’s workings with such an open and warm manner. I was taken aback. Speaking to this woman was like speaking to an old friend or elder. My armor, made solid and heavy in New York had in an instant, dissipated.
I explained to her that I had just moved here and was relieved to see that such a place was in my neighborhood. We talked a few more minutes and she left me with a smile and a sincere, “welcome back,” as if she had been expecting me...
Welcome back. So maybe this was home after all, and maybe this wasn’t my first time. Maybe I wasn’t a stranger after all.
Life is only as strange as we make it, and after today, I’ll no longer be looking to complicate my own mind with the “whys” of worry.
I found my peace and pieces today. The jig is up, the puzzle has been laid out.
For further reading:
Hi, Have You Met Me? on Amazon/Kindle http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00B009W1M
and
There's No Good Campfires Left In Hell on Amazon/Kindle http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00H7CZ590
Or Paperback at http://www.lulu.com/shop/kate-monahan/theres-no-good-campfires-left-in-hell/paperback/product-21276242.html