With my usual grace and style, I made my way down the hill leading to the beach yesterday afternoon. In a split second, I was on my as#. And I kept going…about fifteen feet down the lumpy, bumpy, slope before I came to a stop.
Probably because the old “a body in motion stays in motion” law applied?
My latest ‘acrobatic’ feat seemed a metaphor for my life. I often land on my posterior–literally and figuratively. Thankfully, I’m not overly bothered by my falls and failures…
When I stood at the top of the hill in the wet, slushy grass, the bottom didn’t look treacherous. It just looked covered with a dusting of snow. Yet I ended up on quite the unexpected ride.
Even though I am known for my agility and catlike reflexes (hah!), I didn’t try to stop myself. Seemed worse to fight it. I hadn’t realized the terrain was so rough until fifteen feet of it jabbed my behind as I bounced my way downhill.
For sure my rear end will be riddled with bruises.
Not that I will look. I try NEVER to look at the state of things back there.
Undeterred, I quickly dusted off my (very) wet jeans and set forth on my walk. The trail my butt blazed in the hillside made me giggle. And I had a wonderful walk, despite its rocky start…
Though it is winter in Northeast Ohio, I walk the Little Black Dog at the beach most days. Unless there is a blizzard. Then I go to the woods, or to the nearby park with the asphalt path.
I need ‘outside time’ each day. I cannot do without it.
The only downside? I must brave the elements…
Last week, I happened across a slippery slope. It rained earlier in the day.
It was sort of like skateboarding–except on mud instead of a sidewalk. And with no skateboard. I instinctively threw my arms out for balance. And all was well. I only slid a few feet. And I somehow managed NOT to become a human mud pie. Then I kept walking. Hardly missed a stride.
I am often hit by waves. Which means my shoes, socks and jeans get wet. I tend to lose focus and end up too close to the water when I look for beach glass. Or when I throw sticks and tennis balls to The Little Black Dog. Or I get sidetracked taking in my surroundings…
No matter the season, there’s always something to appreciate. In the spring, bulbs sprout into tulips and nature begins to turn green again.
Summer brings spectacular sunsets over the lake. And the fall is stunning when leaves on trees turn all shades of golden-yellow, orange and red.
In the winter, the beach is desolate and barren. But the ice coating the empty tree branches is lovely. And there is something magical and serene about the beach during the cold, winter months.
The best thing? It isn’t crowded. In fact, I never see ANYBODY down there in the winter. I love the solitude.
Which either makes me brilliant or not so bright…or maybe a bit of both?
Nature is invigorating. So much so that I don’t mind getting disheveled to have ‘outside time.’
Could care less that I head home with snarly, windblown hair. Wet and/or muddy sneakers. Smeared mascara and a sniffly nose from the cold air. With my jeans droopy from the weight of the rocks and beach glass in my pockets.
Nor does it matter that The Little Black Dog is a muddy, smelly, wet mess.
On the outside, I might seem mussed–save for the wide smile on my face. On the inside, I always return home lighter, happier…and with my spirit Perfectly in tact.
Yesterday’s adventure reminded me of a favorite quote:
Do not be too timid and squeamish about your actions. All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make the better. What if they are a little coarse and you may get your coat soiled or torn? What if you do fail, and get fairly rolled in the dirt once or twice? Up again; you shall never be so afraid of a tumble.
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
Emerson was onto something. And he could have spoken directly to me.
The more banged up I get, the less afraid I am. In fact, I’ve been knocked around and bruised with such frequency, that I am nearly fearless these days…