Entry 8: Changes

Wednesday, April 12, 2017
Temperature: 61 degrees

I stare into the pale expanse of never ending sky. The sun shines proudly overhead. There's not a cloud in sight.

I walk the trail I usually run, following the river into the heart of the park. It's been three months since my first blog entry and so much has changed. I pass budding trees. Color graces their once dull, brown limbs. As I cross the wooden bridge, I see fish darting and circling in the water's depths. There across the river is the sycamore and pine, locked in their eternal embrace.

This is not the same park I wrote about in January. It's noisy with the calls of birds, and everywhere I look is vibrant with color. I press on, making my way to the man-made lake. In the distance are the tapped maple trees and Sugar Shack. People gather on the lakeshore, fishing poles in hand, hoping for a catch. The quacking of ducks reaches my ears, as I sit at a picnic table. I silently greet them with a smile.

I look at my hand as I put pen to paper. I've changed too. Though not in ways as obvious or exciting as the spring. I've learned to embrace the stillness of quiet reflection. All I've read and written has challenged my mindset, actions, and identity. The world seems bigger now, more diverse and complex than I previously imagined.

I study the deep blue lake that was once white with ice and wonder, who am I in this great world?

Sometimes I wish for the quiet wisdom of the trees or the simple eternity of the rivers, lakes, and oceans. Sometimes I wish for the wildness of a wolf, or the freedom of a finch.

But I am me.

I am no more wise than I am eternal. Just like I am no more wolf than I am finch.

I've spent the past months reading and writing, but its the park that has helped me grow. It's the park that has inspired these thoughts and prompted these lessons. I leave with the knowledge that I am part of this world and it is part of me.

For this, I am grateful. For this, I will return.