State of Mind

August 26, 2005

There are sev­eral types of nat­ural phe­nom­e­non that inter­est me, nat­ural occurences that to many seem triv­ial. For exam­ple, I find it extremely com­fort­ing to watch those tiny wisps of fire break from the flame. To me, these flashes of light which drift ran­domly and even­tu­ally dis­ap­ate into thin air resem­ble flam­ing fairies.

I can remem­ber going on camp­ing trips with my fam­ily and being in a tran­quil state of mind while watch­ing the fire dance in the breeze. As I reflect to that time, I can still breath in the smell of melted sugar from the marsh­mal­lows that we’d roast on the ends of sticks that we found ear­lier that day. As Don Hen­ley sings, “This was the end of inno­cence”, a place in time where the wor­ries of the world were noth­ing more than fig­ur­ing out how to inter­cept a stale progress report in the mail before your par­ents caught wind of the decline in your edu­ca­tional career.

Some­times at night I love to shut off the tele­vi­sion, or any elec­tronic device that seems to affect my atten­tion span and just lis­ten to the noises out­side; the crick­ets churp­ing dur­ing sum­mer evenings, the low hum of the wind pass­ing through the still­ness of the air or the gen­tle pitter-patter of rain as it falls just out­side the win­dow. As I get older, I real­ize the impor­tance of sim­ple rest or med­i­ta­tion, some­thing I revered in my grand­mother while grow­ing up and yet never full under­stood until now.

Next time you feel swal­lowed by the fast-paced aspects of life in gen­eral, try tak­ing some time out from your day, even if you only have a few moments to spare and just close your eyes and rest your mind. After­all, hap­pi­ness is a state of mind.

 

6 comments

I went camp­ing a few weeks ago, and being next to the fire was prob­a­bly the best time of it all.

Also had a chance to get away this week­end, for our Anniver­sary. Def­i­nitely needed it.

Hap­pi­ness is def­i­nitely a state-of-mind — because some­how peo­ple have the abil­ity to ruin even awe­some camp­fires. They need to be shot.

by Colin D. Devroe on August 27, 2005 at 11:04 pm. Reply #

Good times at Lake Skin­ner and in Bishop huh? I’m glad you remem­ber the camp­ing trips, they were fun. Don’t for­get the times at the Town House Motel too…hanging out on the bal­cony and watch­ing the world go by!

Sorry you can’t make it out in November…but we’ll see you ‘all’ next year! Well, got to go see the Broth­ers Grimm now.

Dad

by Dad on August 28, 2005 at 10:30 pm. Reply #

Pure Genius.….

by Liz on August 29, 2005 at 12:06 pm. Reply #

Nos­tali­gia! I miss those times!

by trench on September 2, 2005 at 8:58 pm. Reply #

Trench: I agree com­pletely. Yet, there’s always some­thing to learn from our past and all said and done, your past, present and future, respec­tively, shapes the per­son you are today.

While I miss the days that have long since past, look­ing for­ward to a new day is really what keeps me going.

by kartooner on September 8, 2005 at 3:06 pm. Reply #

We were recently vis­it­ing fam­ily back east. I’d for­got­ten how noisy a city can be. Here we open the win­dows and the loud­est thing we hear is flock of Cana­dian Geese honk­ing their way to warmer climes. Some­times I just never bother to turn on the TV. It’s so nice not to hear the con­stant drone. Isn’t funy how impor­tant silence can be?

by anon on September 20, 2005 at 5:21 pm. Reply #

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