📝 have you ever felt the earth breathe?
Last weekend, Robert and I went on our first hike of the year (White Trail Loop in Rocks State Park). I thought it was a new-to-us hike, but at some point things started to look familiar, and I realized it was a shorter section of a much longer hike we did last summer. The beginning of the loop had fairly decent elevation gain (picture me saying “we sure are going up!” half a dozen times), and as my legs burned and my breathing got heavier, I realized it was a nice reminder of how much I missed it; how much easier it is connect to myself and my body; how peaceful it is to only hear the wind in the trees and the crunch of the earth beneath my boots. The trail itself was relatively quiet and we only passed a handful of hikers on the route: a family with three dogs; two women (who eventually looped us) trail running; a handful of solo hikers who gave us the standard smile and nod with a “good morning” or “it’s a beautiful day!”
The trail rewards you with a view early on and I was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn't busy. I love to sit on a big rock—even more so when the view is great and there aren’t a ton of people lingering. here, at the viewpoint, was a family with their children. The boys with their RC monster trucks, driving them around and over the smaller rocks—their father patiently reminding them of proper driving techniques—while their peals of screams and laughter filled the open space. behind where we sat, on a different high point in the rocky formation, two teenagers sitting together and sharing a bag of chips while they pretended to be the king and queen of the rocks, talking of jesters and royal decrees—fake accents and all.
I’m not sure how long we sat there, but I told Robert that I could’ve stayed there for hours, staring into the distance and letting my thoughts roam. I could also see myself laying on the rock with the sun seeping into my skin. Lizard time, if you will. At one point, I watched a bird fly and felt something in me expand as it drifted along the current of the wind.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about a quote from Kate Chopin's The Storm, though I admit I haven't read it since college. I do remember someone in class trying to convince our professor that it wasn't a short story about an affair which was funny because.. girl. I recently sent a postcard to a friend and it had a line from the story—"have you ever felt the earth breathe?"—and its one the sits in my the back of my mind. The quote, in its entirety, is my favorite:
“I wonder if anyone else has an ear so tuned and sharpened as I have, to detect the music, not of the spheres, but of earth, subtleties of major and minor chord that the wind strikes upon the tree branches. Have you ever heard the earth breathe?”
Later, I sat on another rock—mostly because I was tired and out of breath—and closed my eyes and used the opportunity to sit with the stillness of the world around me: the wind blowing through the trees and the dead leaves rustling as they were caught in the breeze; geese flying somewhere high above us, honking loudly (where are they going?); the feel of wind on my face and the warmth of the sun, once again, beating down on my skin. There is a persistent ache in my chest whenever I hike because our planet is a gift and how could anything else ever be more important than this? We're the miracle.
Haven't you ever felt the earth breathe?