My whimsy sometimes take me to foreign lands where there are forests so remote and lush, I would never see another human for months. But my reality is almost just as good. What does it matter if there are screaming crowds watching a little league game or barking dogs or ambulances rushing by? It really doesn't. The serenity is inside me, not outside.
Really, it makes no difference where I am. If I can turn inward for stillness, I can hear and see all the things around me in calm observance and yet not be moved by them.
Last night, I took my dog out for the daily walk in a public park. It was a bit later than usual for us but the park was bustling with activity due to some pretty spectacular spring weather. As we turned down a canopied path, I felt the shift. I almost always do. I could still see people in the distance and hear all the sounds in the background, but I wasn't part of it anymore. It wasn't long before my eyes and ears lost interest in the world buzzing around me. I was in an alternate plane. The lighting was just enough to walk without fear but a muted glow of natural hues filtered my view. The air was cool on the skin and just a little damp from the flora. I could feel the breathing of the earth complimenting my own in synchronization with each step. The trees showed me their countenances and the ants crossed in front of me with rapid purpose. And, as always, my heightened sense of smell picked up a couple of different scents wafting in the air: subtle, sweet, and sublime. What could they be?
I was washed clean when the trail gently brought me back to the other plane. I didn't mind it, didn't begrudge "being back". It was just a turn in the road. A changing of perspective. I know how important perspective is. I have built up my own sanctuary inside myself. I can retreat there in a fraction of a second, whenever I want. No one can take that away. There are distractions and temptations everywhere, if that's what I choose them to be. And sometimes I do. In all my days, I test this out to see if it's true. I have yet to prove it wrong. I am not perfect. I falter. I doubt. I succumb. This is the beauty of being human, freedom of choice. But I have committed to be closer than ever to the observer in me. The one God made in His image. Because I believe it is in that sanctuary that He walks with me, to observe with me, to coexist with me. And there, in the holiest of places, the worst of our existence as humans, can start to be to be transformed. One soul at a time.
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