A Walk

Let me tell you of my walk today. I decided to head towards the park. The advantage the park has over my regular walk is the presence of a long stream, that flows parallel to the walk-path. 

When the sun has set and the earth is covered in the visceral glow of soft lights and celestial bodies, and the swishing of cars, the shrieks of children and the patter of feet are only a muffled memory, when the trees are heavy with sleep and the wind ambles about like a lost child, then, the ripple of the stream can be heard, distinct and clear. It flows through the park like its blood stream, rushing and tumbling, gurgling and splashing, in the still of the night.

I walk along the gravel path and the autumnal leaves crunch under my footsteps. I walk past the play-area and stop for a minute. I see a pair of swings hanging in the silence and a long slide and all assortments of little playthings. Still like a postcard, everything awaits the dawn of new day, when the swings will once again be swung and children will glide down the slides and run in the maze and climb up the bars. But for now, everything is resting.

I continue my walk. I look down, for when I look down strange thoughts enter my mind. This is the time, I am the closest to myself. I think about the world and its people and my family and my friends. I remember people that I have seen sometime and acquaintances whom I have spoken to briefly. I feel lonely and yet at peace. I sometimes remember a line from Dante or a lost verse from Shakespeare. They come to me then, from some corner of my mind, floating in the darkness and keep me company for a while. 

I walk on and see beside me large stones, piled on top of each other, to form a wall. The stones are roughly hewn and are of various sizes. The ones below seem compressed by the weight of the ones above, though I know this is not possible. How often we apply our understanding from one field to another. I wonder how long they have remained thus. Which human hands had a part in shaping them to their present form? Where are the people that had lived and walked these paths like I do now? I think about the people yet to come and this in turn reminds me of my own frailty. What do I have except a few years to call my own! This little time is our treasure. 

How important we think ourselves to be! What are we in the vast wave of humanity? We are at present the frontal wave, but our time is short-lived and very soon we shall recede back into the annals of history and new waves will come before us. Will we then stand out from the past or will we be lost like the countless men and women who were once here? 

Benjamin Franklin once wrote that greatness requires great sacrifice. But I sometimes wonder, is sacrifice too high a price to pay for greatness? Let's assume that we have a spare hour. What I do in this hour will determine my future. Should I toil over understanding Faust, or should I let my myself be entertained by a sitcom that I can watch over the Internet and let my brain rest. One is work and the other is idleness. If one chooses the former and toils towards understanding and begins to lap at the shores of the ocean of wisdom,what will one achieve for himself? For humanity he may turn out to be a great artist, or a scientist or a philosopher, but for himself had he rather not spend that hour in laziness? I need a longer walk to figure this out.

Goethe once said that a day has infinite time. I have pondered over this and found it true. But I have not mastered the art of achieving its full potential. I have considered keeping a record of my time usage, but I haven't yet. I know I would be frightened at the amount of time I idle away each day. Without a log, I can deceive myself into thinking that I am not indolent. How often in life we are afraid to face the truth.

I reach the swing set again. This time I walk around the fence and sit on a swing, and let my hands grasp the metal strings. I feel the cool of the metal. My husband who knows my quirks and desire for solitude, takes another walk around the park and leaves me to enjoy the swing by myself. I kick the sand and go higher. I swing and stretch back my body and my legs, until I am sleeping in the air. I see the stars glittering in the cloudy sky and the tall fir trees appear like comforting friends and everything mingles in that time, My past and present unite and stretch out as a long tapestry of my life. I close my eyes and breathe the cold air. When I open my eyes, I see the friendly fir trees watching over me, like a baby in the cradle sees its parents watching over it.