My autumn walk, and a struggle against the stone

I was digging through some files this week, and came across this little piece that I wrote in the fall of ’09. I recall that when I picked up my pen that morning, I didn’t really know what I was going to write about. So I wrote the line “I went for a walk yesterday…”, and let the rest just happen. By no means is it profound, but I wasn't going for profound. I was simply seeking a chance to organize and capture my thoughts. Interestingly enough a lot of things in here are things that I still think about. One thing should be noted though, before you read it: I love my life. I am more fulfilled in my role as a husband and father than I ever imagined I’d be, and wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not once have I wistfully wished for days gone by. That being said, there are definitely times when – like many others, I imagine – I struggle under the burden of life. If not for my beautiful wife and amazing children, very little would have meaning for me. And if not for the sustaining grace of my Lord I would be lost, a rudderless ship in the fog.

My Autumn Walk

I went for a walk yesterday.  I had a lot on my mind, and of all months, October is my favorite walking month. There’s enough beauty to coax me outside, and enough chill to keep me walking briskly. And there’s sort of a balancing act between life and death. The colors feel more like life than those of spring and summer. And yet, there is a quiet sense of… something. Not life, I suppose. Perhaps it’s waning life, or that blissful moment just before sleep. Yes, I think that’s it.

So: my walk. There are enough leaves on the ground to make me notice, and enough wind to make the leaves run. If I’m thinking about something else, in the corner of my mind I’m imagining that the leaves are moving on their own; going somewhere of their own volition. They seem so determined… so rushed. They stop, as if they’re thinking about where to go next, then they resume their journey. I find myself with sort of a wistful feeling in the back of my mind; a bit of leaf envy. When I was a child, I envied birds on account of their ability to fly. Now I’m envying leaves simply because they’re not tied down. My, how far I’ve come.

So, I look closer. And in looking closer at these leaves, here is what I notice: Invariably, they stop moving forward. Something – a tree, a fence, a stone – something blocks their path, and they stop. They don’t stop moving, no. In fact, their movements continue almost as if they’re frantically trying to free themselves. And watching the struggle (which most likely will end with the leaf staying put), something occurs to me. The leaves aren’t really free, or untethered. They’re moving, yes… sometimes even moving for a long distance. But they’re driven. Driven by the wind. They’re not driving. I’m envying this leaf, until I realize how much we have in common.  They fall from a tree, sort of dropped into the world, and they’re travelling before they even hit the ground. Running to something? Running from something? Running. They hit obstacles, and the only thing that frees them is the wind, which they can’t control. They are the classic picture of a victim of circumstance.

I think perhaps I’m drawn now by a sense of subconscious empathy. I go for a walk to free myself; I walk to chew on my problems, to try and wrap my thoughts around issues that seem too big for me. My autumn walk is my struggle against the stone. 

And then I realize: here is where I’m separated from my leaf-brethren. I’ve been given the gift of choice. I’m surprised and ashamed by how often I choose the way of the leaf; surprised by how often I choose the passenger seat. In a sense, this leaf – the leaf I envied for it’s freedom – this leaf frees me. It reminds me of my ability to choose.

I’m expected to move forward; all around me people are moving forward. In an effort to conform, more often than not I choose to bow before the wind and fly. But living on purpose… although it’s sometimes awkward and slow, it’s the only thing that’s actually living, isn’t it? Running before the wind may look impressive from a distance, graceful for a time. But it ends with an unsuccessful struggle against the stone. No, I think I’m going to exercise my ability to choose. And I refuse to choose the struggle against the stone.

I choose to go for a walk, and think.

© Joshua Dufek, 2012