a deliberate act

We finally left home this afternoon and made our way down to the water.  The trail to the bridge was pristine - almost a foot of snow and no footprints save one ranging coyote.  We had the world to ourselves for awhile.  Since reading Walden, I've been obsessed with this work:  seizing the moments of my life, learning to live deliberately, as Thoreau said.  

We talked it over as we trudged through the snow, stopping to take pictures and to watch the geese that were flying in.  I feel constantly torn between wanting to live quiet and free of the online world and knowing that the world communicates this way, that there are relationships and beauty here. Unfortunately, one always seems to come at the price of the other.

 A hawk flew over our heads and I wondered if he was sorry we had arrived; no doubt a host of tiny creatures (lunch perhaps?) had scampered out of sight the moment we'd set our boots on the frozen snow.   I breathed deep and watched him settle onto a new branch, tilt his elegant head down to stare at us.  I must have more time for this, I whispered to myself and my heart pounded back an emphatic yes.

At last we decided, with the fog coming down over the mountain and the sky turning from pearl to steel grey, that a regular, scheduled break from media is what we really need.   No email or instagram or pinterest or blogs or movies or Downton Abbey or checking the weather or googling information or anything media related for one week each month.  For a quarter of the year,  we could live without the blue screen and the constant feedback and the instant gratification and the overwhelming, drowning amount of information.  

We're going to try it out this coming week, beginning Monday.  I plan to be back around the 17th, Lord-willing, with a week's worth of thoughts and pictures and a heart full right up. 

Until then, much love and may the peace of God keep you.