Tag Archives: spirituality

Thursday Afternoon Ramblings


Before the separation anxiety created by losing my children, I had never really known anxiety before.  Sure, I’d gotten nervous in certain situations, but I’d never experienced the unexplained waves of fear that appeared out of nowhere and made me edgy.  For the first year after the boys were gone, excluding the times when they were back with me, I lived in a constant state of panic, worried about whether or not they were safe and healthy and happy.  My stomach constantly burned from this fear, and I often awoke in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, trembling.  As I adjusted to my new reality, the anxiety waned, and ever so slowly, I began to feel “normal” again.

Recently, the anxiety has returned.  This time, however, it’s not about my children, even though the sensation is much the same.  I can’t say exactly why I feel this way, but for a few weeks now, I’ve not been able to shake it.  There’s no one specific thing I’m worried about, more like a thousand little uncertainties that gnaw at me.  From the erratic weather to the political sideshow to the sluggish economy, I feel like we’re heading for something bad in the next few months.  While I can’t point to any quantifiable thing and say, “Here’s definitive proof,” I just have an overwhelming intuition that the proverbial dung is about to hit the fan.

I don’t believe in the Mayan calendar and don’t expect the world is about to fly apart, but I do feel like our nation, because of the internal strife and chasms we’ve created through our sensationalist parodies of debate and deliberation, is on the verge of a deep, fundamental shift.  I can’t say for certain what that shift will be, perhaps martial law, perhaps financial collapse, perhaps civil war.  I don’t know.  I just know we cannot continue unraveling at the seams the way we have for the last few years.  And again, I can’t point to any one thing, just a feeling I get from people I encounter who either give off vibes of being frazzled and panicked or seem like mindless drones on auto-pilot.

I hope I’m wrong.  I want to feel positive and optimistic about the world and the future.  I much prefer feeling positive energy, but right now, there simply isn’t much to feel good about.  Everywhere I look, things are just out of balance and eroding into an uncivilized frenzy of self-interest.  People are either mad as hell at those who disagree with them politically, distracted by TV, or apathetic to everything.  Few people seem even content with their lives, and I don’t know anyone who feels positive about the direction we’re headed as a society.  I wish I could look at the future and feel hopeful about it, but right now, tomorrow just looms bleak and ominous as we trudge onward.

I’m sorry for writing such a negative piece, but this is how I feel about our country right now.  I can’t pretend like everything is okay when in my gut I have this feeling that something awful is about to happen.

Joyce Kilmer Ramblings


There’s something magical about touching a 400 year old tree.  The bark feels more like stone than wood, thick and hard from centuries of enduring all kinds of weather.  There’s something humbling about seeing branches larger than most trees, and there’s something life-affirming about seeing root systems large enough to life heavy stones from the ground.  If you enjoy the majesty of nature, you need to visit Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest and experience these things for yourself.  My first trip there was 20 years ago, when I was a student at Walters State and president of the Outdoors Club.  Ever since, I’ve longed to go back.

When I first planned this getaway, it was the first place I thought about.  I love hiking and observing natural beauty, and I wanted to see the forest again.  On the lower end of the trail, many of the older trees are gone.  Some have simply died and still stand, leafless and branchless, ghostly husks of once mighty trees.  Others looked to me as if a strong wind, perhaps a tornado or microburst, had snapped them at their bases, for the trunks were twisted and splintered by a powerful force.  On the lower end, I was heartbroken, believing I had missed my opportunity to see these giants again.

But once you reach the memorial stone, dedicated to the poet Joyce Kilmer who died in action during WWI, much of the old growth remains.  Some of the older trees are sick, a mercury-colored sap oozing from their bark, but many are still healthy and vibrant.  The forest itself is still very much alive, with new growth flourishing in the unspoiled soil.  The ferns, moss, and mushrooms alone are worth the two mile hike, but the real wonders are the ancient trees, some wider than my wingspan, their branches looming a hundred feet overhead. They are breathtaking in their majesty, and my words and these picture don’t do them justice.

I’m not certain how long the old growth will remain, so if you want to see them, you should go soon.  The hike isn’t strenuous, with very few climbs and plenty of opportunities to stop and rest.  It’s an experience unlike any other, especially for an old nature lover like me.  In the depth of the forest, where the old growth still remains, there’s an ineffable energy that will feed your soul and soothe your heart. Life and all its complexities and splendors are abundant, and it’s a wonderful reminder of just how amazing our planet really is.  I urge you to go and experience this for yourself because there’s no telling just how long the massive trees will still be here.  For me, I will not wait another 20 years before I return.

Tuesday Morning Ramblings

Here are a few pics from the vacation.  I plan on writing more about the trip to Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest tonight or tomorrow, but for now, I need to get out to the farm and make a little progress.

I have to find it, but I have this same pic from my previous trip 20 years ago. Those trees are at least 200-250 years old.
I can’t even guess how tall that tree is.
Mistakenly thought these were the two trees from the picture above. These are much younger and smaller.
On the high seas, kind of.
I was having a blast driving the boat.
Fontana Lake.
Fontana Dam.