a quiet satisfaction
I am antsy. Finals are in a fortnight and then I will be jetting off to Chicago to press my ear against my sister’s burgeoning belly and murmur hello to my future niece. At some point I do want to write to you about the past year and a half of dentistry- and that hint I made at an overturned leaf for healthier habits- but really right now all I can think about is how in love I am with the Pennsylvanian suburbs.
Mat and I trekked to Chestnut Hill last weekend where we brunched in an airy conservatory before poking around town. I picked up a few paperwhite bulbs and popped into a photography store where vintage cameras crowned the ceiling before we began our leisurely stroll to Morris Arboretum.
We ended up short on time- cows are quite distracting- so Morris Arboretum was pocketed for later. Instead, our interest was piqued by a crowded parking lot and people milling towards the same direction. And so we came upon Wissahickon Valley Trail.
Peals of laughter and squeals tinkled in the air as we spotted children racing into piles of canary yellow leaves. Nearby, on the back porch of a café, an elderly man tapped his foot as his companion began to play a merry tune on his fiddle.
As Mat and I walked down the trail, hearts bursting from the serenity of it all, I could only think, this, remember it, this moment is pure bliss.
Here, my mind fell silent and a quiet satisfaction unearthed from inside of me. If only for a sliver in time, I felt as if my priorities were righted and all the worries of the week made insignificant.
Let’s commune with nature more, yes? Let’s drag ourselves away from obsessively, mindlessly, fruitlessly browsing the Internet. Stop looking for perfection through comparisons. Humble yourself and feel your vulnerability as a person and embrace it, be grateful for it and make the most of it.
“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms.”
– Henry David Thoreau