Fall Time
(Chapter 47)
October 10, 2004 Sunday
The smell of drying, dying, decaying, deciduous leaves in autumn is as
distinct as the smell of those same leaves being burned in a fire. It’s a primal,
earthy smell that I recall as recently as last fall and as distantly as when I was a
child playing in piles of raked leaves. It’s October again.
Today, my dog and I hike through the Levis Mound county park. It’s a
forest of mostly oaks and poplar with a few maples. Tall white pines are liberally
scattered throughout. We walk the trail under a canopy of brown, maroon, orange,
ocher, yellow, and still some green leaves among the evergreen white pine. Above
and beyond, a surreal sky of cerulean blue.
Leaves gently fall, each unique, like snowflakes, blanketing the forest
floor with a patchwork of color over a bed of dried brown leaves. Birds gently
call. Bees buzz by. Crickets chirp. My dog hears the call of the wild and runs off,
deeper into the woods. I too, follow my instincts, hiking up the steep side of the
moraine, stopping part way to the top to catch my breath. My heart pounds so hard
that I can hear and feel its beating. I breathe deep, focusing my attention on the
rhythm of my heart and breath. My dog rejoins me and we continue hiking
upward, to the top of a cliff outcropping.
Once there, we find ourselves on top of the world with a 180-degree view
from east to west looking south. This particular place is like a Japanese rock garden
with ancient, sacred bonsai-like pines growing out of the rock. I sit cross-legged
on the edge of this world while my dog lies in the shade of a pine. Before
me and below me for as far as I can see is the multi-colored forest at the peak of
its fall colors under a blazing sun. The forest is burning with energy. Except for
brief views of roads, and distant water and communication towers, the foliage
hides almost all traces of human existence. Still, even from such a place with such
a view, at this point in time it is not easy to forget about that world of human existence.
I have to constantly, consciously, let go of the human reality that invades
my thoughts and terrorizes my peace of mind. There are no wars nearby. The
Democrats and the Republicans are not arguing here before me. I see no stock
market or economic indicators anywhere around me. And yet, I still have trouble
unplugging and disconnecting myself from the world of human affairs. It’s as if I
have a battery powered radio, TV, and computer in my head still receiving communication
signals from civilization. Perhaps, after all these years of being bombarded
by media messages on the airways, my brain no longer needs the electronic
gadgets to receive and process data. My brain has been transformed. The
shut off switch is harder to find. I look over at my dog lying under the pine and
try to imagine what she is thinking about inside her head as she stares out there.
I look out there. I look long and focus on my breathing. Slowly the world out there
fills the inside of my head. I forget all about thinking and simply see this world.
I breathe it in and breathe it out. I sit for a long time, in no hurry to move from
this moment, to leave this place, to return to that other world’s worries.
The world as I know it now is at peace. All is as it is. For the moment,
there is nothing I need to worry about, not a thing I need to change. From this
point of view the reality of human affairs reveals itself to be unreal, forgotten
ancient history.
A breeze blows. The trees below are moved, their leaves shimmer in the
radiant light. A turkey vulture spirals above, disappearing beyond sight. This is
bliss.
And all that I have just written (and all that you have just read), is now
only a dreamy memory, a figment of my imagination (and now your imagination).
