In a single day;
I rested my heart on the river, and spurred it up the mountainside;
I hid in deep caves and saw the wide open;
I saw a mountain range from a bird’s-eye view and strained my neck upward to see its summit;
I was grounded on shallow rock beds and paddled through deep, black waters;
I climbed a mountain staircase barefoot and came down shod;
Peace is such a very rare thing in this world. Real, heart-stopping peace that fills you with itself so your mind cannot wander to the anxieties of the world and ancient woes. “Pause,” it whispers in your ear. “Pause, and see what is before you and what is before you only. There is nothing but what is here.”
I found it yesterday, at the top of Table Rock in West Bethel, Maine, where the wind feels as if it will blow you off the cracked stone. I held the man I love there, and later adventured with him for three hours on the Androscoggin River.
Head into the woods, climb a mountain with your bare feet, and look into golden waters that shine clear and shallow in the sunlight. There you will find peace.