Too Long

A question I ask myself often is why have I stopped going into the woods and absorbing all of the smells, sounds, and sights of beauty? The story is too long. But the short of it is I live in this little one-floor condo into which I have somehow boxed myself. Everything I own is within reach, although to be honest, there is a lot of art I cannot find no matter how much time I take looking. Within the past two days, I have been so tired, I can hardly keep my eyes open. The energy I expended planting what few flowers I have to plant, spreading mulch, and then, on the third day, cleaning my abode, must have been the same amount of energy I put out running a race. But, recently, the friend with whom I explored the woods before years ago, re-entered my life and now I have a companion who can accompany me on my walks. I have tried it alone, but it was into places that I knew so well that I felt as though I was already in the company of someone. Aloneness describes more than a physical situation. Aloneness becomes a state of mind.

Tell me how much I see. Tell me how much anxiety is relieved from my being.

As the water moves, so do the invisible pulsations of my brain. I am desirous of being the water. Of embracing the water in the life of its own but on which so much depends.

The pictures identify my longing for being in my environment. I just don't mean standing there; I mean disappearing into it. Maybe that day will come all too soon. When I remember my life in the woods, the mental images are so vivid. I can even remember being in the places where I took the pictures. And the events surrounding coming to and leaving the water.

Tell me you love me and I will return. If not in the steps coming toward you, but in the emotions thinking about you.