Here to There

It is about a half mile from here to there.  The way from here to there is a two rut dirt lane which meanders down the hill across culverts through which the runoff branch flows and then back up a gentle slope to the strip of asphalt which goes to town.  Trees line both sides of the dirt road creating a canopy of shade, cooler temperatures in the summer, and a wind tunnel for cold winds come winter.  It is a road often traveled.  There is no leaving the farm without paying homage to the way it provides.   

Late this afternoon I walked that road instead of taking the journey inside a closed up air conditioned vehicle.  It could be said that I passed along a familiar way without the hurrying of four wheels and without the isolation provided by closed windows.  What I did as I walked was enter into the world it offered, but one through which I normally pass through so quickly that I cannot see it, hear it, or know it.   The walking journey was slower and my immersion in the silence it provided enabled me to see the deer trail cutting through the trees, some bricks coming up out of the road that someone long ago had put out there to fill up a hole, and a squirrel scampering through dried leaves.   

And my ears were blessed with the sound of a shrieking high flying hawk, branch water gurgling and bubbling as it traveled, and fussing geese overhead.   I would have missed all of this had I made the journey as is my normal custom.  But, for a moment I was blessed by being able to enter into a silence that is always there even though it is not seen or heard when getting there becomes more important than being here.  As I walked from the road to the steps of the house, I found myself being made aware from somewhere deep within about the need to step into the sacred silence which always exists around me, but which I too often miss on my hurried way from here to there.