We glide through tall pine corridors and open hardwood forests on fresh buttery snow. We startle a barred owl who stands watch over a rodent hole, then flies up into a nearby maple and stares down at us with her inky unblinking eyes. Jane calls to her but she does not respond. At every turn, with each push of my pole, I am acutely aware of our abundant fortune. We are free to connect with an unspoiled nature just minutes from our safe and warm homes. We do this while Ukrainian babies are birthed amid bombs. We push ourselves on two working legs and breathe in the woodsy air. Meanwhile a young woman’s life is squeezed by the grip of a cancer that is as voracious as it is indifferent to her suffering. We stand under pines and drink in the afternoon setting sun, talk of plans for the future. We hold hot bowls of soup, watch dogs sleep in front of the wood stove and find things to laugh about. Others not so fortunate wonder if they will see tomorrow.
My heart aches with love for this life. My sweet friends, daily joys so accessible. This strong heart pumping in my chest, this gorgeous earth, this tiny blip of time we get to be here.
It is a privilege too big to be contained by mere words, the vastness of the ache in my body as I watch birch and hemlocks sway in the morning rain. The love I feel for this life, this gift, the daily gems. Stopping to watch a silky otter slide off the ice and into a flowing river. Looking up at a bald eagle, so close I can see his neck feathers ruffled by a breeze. Noticing the unkindness of a hundred ravens lifting as one from a warm mountain of steaming compost. My happy dog trotting down the trail ahead of me. A strengthening March sun on my face. My chest is just too small to hold it. And so it flows out of my feet and onto the trails around my home. It slides down my arms and out of my fingers into warm bread dough. It wraps itself around wooden spoons stirring soup. It bleeds from my breath back into this world I love so much.