Saturday, September 1, 2012

hearts made for nothing else

"We live, in fact, in a world starved for solitude, silence, and private: and therefore starved for meditation and true friendship." --C.S. Lewis

The two things Notre Dame has going for it (topographically speaking) are the copious amounts of trees and the lakes.

Meditation and water are wedded, according to Herman Melville, but I would also argue that if you're seeking a contemplative moment, there is nothing more conducive to getting lost in peaceful silence in the woods. When you have trees and water together, it's actually magical (or mystical). You can go there and be a human being and not a human doing.

 "I say nothing to him. I love him."--Thérèse of Lisieux.

I think the most real thing I did recently was yesterday, when I walked along the soft, squishy tar on the road.
It's August, thus summer is now officially my worst enemy. I'm pretty over walking outside and feeling like I walked into a sauna. I'm itching for autumn. Summer, in my mind, hath overstayed his welcome.
But one thing I love about dog days of summer is how the tar squishes between your toes. When I was little, my favorite thing to do was walk in the tar. I would be out for hours at a time walking around and poking at the tar on the road. My mother, of course, told me to stop (as I'm sure I would tell my child--tar is filthy stuff), but the great thing about being an (semi-)adult is that you get to walk on the tar and no one tells you to stop. Most people look at you funny as you walk down the road following the winding trails of tar.
But in order to love the world, you have to pay attention to the world. And no one does that better than a child--everything is worthy of exploration. No one understands as instinctively as a child how much there is to discover.

The real in us is silent, the acquired is talkative--Kahlil Gibran

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