Ode to What Was Lost

 
   You should be there. I should still know that if I go there, I'll find you. My mind knows what happened, but my heart is still simply asking, "Where are you?"
   

Widow's Creek Trail, Stone Mountain State Park

Hello, all!


   I apologize for the extended period of radio silence! Things have been exceptionally busy here, what with all of the spring cleaning and life changing events. Yesterday, though, we were able to take a welcome outing to Stone Mountain State Park. Have you ever been there? It's quite a lovely little place. I prepared a short narrative account of our capers earlier today to submit as a field note for Exit the Highway. Please enjoy!

"A Day at Widow's Creek"

(The upper falls of Widow's Creek, via mysticalis)

        If travelers follow the hilly, looping road of Stone Mountain State Park past the visitor’s center and toward the heart of the forest, over the quiet Stone Mountain and the robust Bulls Head creeks, they find themselves at the head of a short path leading to Widow’s Creek Falls. In early June, the landscape gushes with life: from soft, bright tips on evergreens to branches drooping with heavy clusters of mountain laurel blooms.  The youthful energy of early summer verdure is accentuated by the falls’ young visitors, who seek out this place to take advantage of the natural water slide formed by the lower falls.  Continuing a few yards up the trail brings hikers to the foot of the upper falls, which form a much steeper cascade. Here too, however, daredevils can be seen launching themselves over the cataract with the mad bravado of youth – a sight not for weak nerves, since outcroppings and jagged caves imperil swimmers along the entire chute.

(Mountain laurel blooms, via William Britten)

        This was where my family and I found ourselves one day, grinning and laughing amidst the infectious glee of lively, carefree whoops and catcalls. On the lookout for the Widows Creek trail, we spotted a thin footpath climbing the steep hillside beside the falls, on the other side of the creek. Since we had hoped to venture deeper into the woods, we scrambled towards it across an outstretched tree limb and quickly left the crowds behind. Thus began our adventure.

        Though the trail carried us up past the top of the falls, it soon crossed through the deep creek. Most of our merry party splashed straight through the pure, crystalline stream, but my brother insisted on carrying my little sister so that she would not have to get her feet wet, and my stepfather trod through the brook barefoot. This set a precedent, and from there on my brother carried my sister through creek crossings and my stepfather went shoeless through much of the woods.

        At this point the trail began to narrow and fade. Indeed, in some places it was so overgrown that it was nearly indiscernible, and we were sure that we had lost it. Branches whipped at us and mud attempted to wrestle away our shoes. Our zigzag course made frequent creek crossings necessary, sometimes through deep pools and always over slippery stones. At times we discovered that the path had disappeared beneath our very feet, so we carefully made our way forward between the branches of thickets, feeling much like some action movie’s heroes and heroines vaulting between those ubiquitous lasers.  These difficulties only heightened our excitement, however, as we trekked within a world of verdant foliage that seemed to hum with wildlife. Each time we waded through the stream, the sensation of cool currents swirling around our ankles and calves lifted our spirits ever higher.

(A considerably less tangled thicket than those through which we had to worm. Via Ilia Polian)

         The trail was rough for quite some time, and we were beginning to feel certain that we had lost our way, when my mother, with a shout of joy, pointed out a sign facing away from us and up the hillside. We raced towards it, and soon discovered – behold! – a broad, level, well-maintained trail stretching through the trees.  Here, we realized, was none other than the Widow’s Creek trail.

        So which path had led us up the slope of the waterfall and in and out of the creek for so long? There was only one explanation: We had been following a game trail!

        When our laughter finally subsided, and we were able to wipe the tears of hilarity out of our eyes and straighten our giggle-sore sides, we set off along the remainder of the real Widow’s Creek Trail. Along the way we were entertained with many new delights and curiosities, such as fields of tall stalks that grew amongst the trees and tiny lilac-colored flowers that were sprinkled throughout the undergrowth of delicate ferns, all lit by the soft green glow of forest light. Dozens of pinkie-sized millipedes crawled slowly along the path, and we often heard the conk-la-REE calls of red-winged blackbirds hidden in the branches. Large flakes of mica glittered in the red North Carolina clay of the path, and an old stone chimney stood abandoned on a knoll.

(Here's a nice example of a red-winged blackbird's call. Don't worry, I won't blame you if you don't watch the whole thing. Probably. P.S. -- The bird pictured here is apparently a "bicolored blackbird" from California, but the song is very similar. Via The Music of Nature)

       Our excitement for the day, however, was not yet over. While looking for a cataract said to be near one of the campsites along the trail, we spotted a large slug lying on a stone in the middle of the river. We had ventured closer for a better look when, suddenly, it scuttled off the rock and disappeared into the water with a splash. This occurrence suggested, to my mother and me, that the best course of action would be to leap back onto the creek bank half-screaming and half-laughing, which we promptly did.

        It was the slimy creature who had the last laugh, though. After we arrived at home, our curiosity overcame our better judgment and we decided to investigate what, exactly, the amphibious crawler had been. Much to our horror, we soon learned that the very creek through which we had just been romping was filled with freshwater leeches.

(I won't insert a photo of a leech here, because that would be simply cruel.)

         With its peaceful beauty, refreshing vibe, and even the occasional unnerving surprise, my family came to regard Widow’s Creek of Stone Mountain State Park quite fondly. The embracing quiet, the exuberant growth, and the challenges of the land itself are all worth experiencing. To any nature lover brave enough to risk the dastardly leeches and alluring game trails, we say that you will have earned your reward.

 How about you? What's your favorite park? If you've entered any submissions into Exit the Highway, feel free to join the fun and leave us a link in the comments!

All the best,

L. 

Tuneful Tuesdays: Dirge

Sirenic.

Serious Business

(Via WSI)

    As prompted by the kind remonstrance of my dear sister, I, L. K. Nance, do on this day offer my solemn vow, my dread oath, my I-really-mean-it-this-time pledge, that never again shall a single emoticon besmirch the proud posts of this blog.  I stand tall against thee, mawkishly winsome tiny faces!  Let it be known that neither smiley nor frowney symbols are welcome further than in my replies to my dear readers’ comments, nay, nor shall thy sly quizzical brethren be suffered entry, either!  We shall see who is grinning while winking now, SHAN’T WE?!

Ciao,

L.

P.S. -- I really do appreciate it, Delaney. It is simply far too lazy of me to use them all the time. I love you!

A Utilitarian's Novelties: The Rubber Duck Strainer!

Hello, all! :)
   
          What have you been up to, lately? Here in North Carolina, trees are budding, bulbs are stretching from their sleep, and there are brave little tufts of young grass sprouting everywhere in a very early spring. Yet, despite the gay growth surrounding me, I've been less than carefree, busy with fretting over scholarship applications and drinking exorbitant amounts of tea. Do (or "did," depending on where you are in life :)) applications fill you with terror, too?

           Well, I hope this new post series will cheer you up, regardless of what's worrying you. :) Without further ado, please wave your mouse in welcome of the rubber duck strainer, the star of our debut post for A Utilitarian's Novelties*! Yay! :D

(Via Tea Embassy)

             
              This lovely, lambent duckling is quite a diligent little fellow, and insists she must be useful even midst frolicking in her natural environment, her teacup pond. Attached to her base is a fine mesh strainer, allowing you to steep your tea while playing with your food. ;) Currently, I have an excellent strainer, which actually strains my tea. That's pretty much my I only expectation for the average tea strainer (present company excluded, of course! :)), but it's amazing how many cannot even do that. Anyway, I do have a working strainer, but someday I hope to invite this tiny, admirable fowl into my own home. :) If you have one, please let me know if you like it! :)

Best!
L.

*You are probably already familiar with this spelling rule, but if seeing "a" before what is nominally a vowel ever causes you to do a double-take (as it sometimes does to me), here's a little explanation for it. Basically, it has to do with the fact that English vowels sometimes sound like consonants. :) Ah, the many intricacies of English grammar! :) Pretty fun, I think, though generally I fail miserably at it. :) Farewell!
         
       

In Response to "Vacillation"

Hi everybody! :D

     I hope that you have all been enjoying yourselves! :) I apologize for the delay in posting this. Last week we were busy enjoying our visiting aunt and gallivanting around the state, and this week has been full of errands and preparations for a move (which will hopefully take place this weekend -- yay! :D).

     The last post was a little open-ended, I think. Now, though, we can finally tie up the subject. :) Last time, we basked in a few powerful lines from W.B. Yeats' poem, "Vacillation." For what it was worth, I also offered a few thoughts on the poet's worldview, claiming that in this excerpt alone there was sufficient evidence to conclude that Yeats was not a nihilist. Indeed, he seemed to be quite far from it.

    Perhaps you reacted to these noble verses the same way that I did. Perhaps your heart thrilled with inspiration and strength. You may have looked on the poet anew, as a brave man, an honorable man, a towering and vibrant spirit.

    I wish that I could have spoken with Yeats. Not that I would have anything particularly valuable to say, or that I could say it well. What Christ has to say, though, is exceedingly valuable. It is what every person needs to hear, about the way we approach death, and about the measuring rod we use to weigh the worthiness of all our endeavors. At this point, from the struggle with Christianity apparent in his work, I'm afraid Yeats might have simply tuned out of our hypothetical conversation. I hope that he embraced it in the end, however, since it is the fullest, brightest, and grandest approach that a human can have towards death.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Via Blue Ghost)

    "Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you." (Matthew 6:33 NKJV)

    "Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter:
        Fear God and keep His commandments,
        For this is man's all.
        For God will bring every work into judgment,
        Including every secret thing,
        Whether good or evil." (Ecclesiastes 12:13, 14)

     "He has shown you, O man, what is good;
     And what does the Lord require of you
     But to do justly,
     To love mercy,
     And to walk humbly with your God?" (Micah 6:8)

     "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.'" (Matthew 22:37)

      "Love your neighbor as yourself." (Matthew 22:39)

      I know, you've heard them before. Please go back and read them again, though. Listen to them. Really listen.
   
      These are not empty words, Yeats. Neither are they a damnation to drudgery. These are the supreme orders of the Maker and Master of the universe, the One who holds the swirling galaxies to His eye for inspection. The One who crafted effortlessly all the beauties of life that you so admire, from gargantuan, ethereal nebulae to the flawless spheres of electrons, spinning wildly in their endless dances. This One, who is making all things beautiful (Ecclesiastes 3:11), has directives for you. You laugh at the idea that the Infinite One could possibly be concerned with how you conduct yourself in your brief lifetime, but I tell you that in the perfection of His sovereign artistry, it is His will that not a single atom swerve astray. Christ Himself told us this (Matthew 10:29). You were right to think that there can be dignity in death, but it does not come through selfish pride in our finite works (which are, after all, only minuscule threads in the cosmic tapestry of His story). Our dignity comes to us through our straining and sweating as knights of His kingdom. It comes to us as the honored and glorified members of His plan, which is the grandest purpose, the most spell-binding scheme that you could possibly imagine. A magnificent structure that spans millennia, worlds, even the infinite chasms that you yourself, Yeats, have felt between souls. There is no cause more truly splendid than this. Nothing else glows so fiercely with the light of God's terrible majesty. I hope that you discovered this before the end, Yeats, because this and this alone is that for which it is truly worth dying.

Goodbye, my friend (for I hope that is what we would have been, had we met). I hope to see you at the glorious end. May your soul have felt the grandeur of hearing our Leader say, "Well done, my good and faithful servant."
 

   

Gilded Words: Yeats

(Via George Charles Beresford)

"No longer in Lethean foliage caught

Begin the preparation for your death

And from the fortieth winter by that thought

Test every work of intellect or faith

And everything that your own hands have wrought,
And call those works extravagance of breath

That are not suited for such men as come

Proud, open-eyed and laughing to the tomb."

                                                                            

                                                                – W. B. Yeats, from "Vacillation," part III.     

Hello, all! :)

        Welcome to my next post series, Gilded Words! :D As you can see, it is simply a collection of excerpts drawn from my daily reading, taken whenever I have found something that I've loved and thought might interest you, as well. I hope that these authors' snippets will be as beneficial to you as they have been to me. :)

        For today's excerpt, I selected a passage from The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats that is dear to me. I have not always agreed with Yeats' worldview. Like any good poet will, however, he sometimes strikes a vein of gold* hidden amongst what seems to be the chaotic jumble of life, as seen from our finite perspective. At times  I think that this occurs despite himself, as a result of his subconscious picking away at the apparent disorder of the universe and looking for structure and purpose, like it is in all of our natures to do.  Though he claims that he "would be – for no knowledge is worth a straw –/ Ignorant and wanton as the dawn,"  the content and even the very style of his poetry belie his inherent, human desire for meaning.

      In this stanza, for example, an attempt to dismiss Yeats' attitude as so-called "brave nihilism" dissolves upon further consideration. The main reason for this is fairly simple: Namely, that there is no dignity in death for the nihilist. Death for the nihilist is, of course, simply a nothingness, the end of human experience, the last eternal silence, the only infinite thing in nihilistic philosophy. Because humans do not experience anything lasting, there is no enduring purpose, and thus nothing to do but fulfill one's own desires while one still has desires to fill. No delight is an "extravagance of breath," no matter what its consequences might be. 

      Yeats' approach, however, is markedly different. What allows men to go "Proud, open-eyed and laughing to the tomb"? According to the previous lines, it is only certain works, measured by an apparently exacting scale (which itself is also contrary to nihilism), that allow men to carry themselves with confidence and honor into the grave. Thus, by claiming an objective standard of worth, by maintaining a dignified attitude towards death, and by implying that the value of one's work gives purpose to life, Yeats precludes the possibility of hopeless nihilism in his philosophy.

     If what a man believes about death reveals what he believes about life, and if my half-baked syllogisms are sound,  it warms my heart to know that Yeats had a more hopeful approach towards death than one would assume from the rest of his pretensions about life.

What do you think? Does Yeats sound like a nihilist to you?

With that, I will bid you adieu, and wish you merry success in all your endeavors. :) Best!

L.

* Get it? ;D Heh heh.

Tuneful Tuesday: It's Rainin'

 Hi there, everybody! :D

      I hope you're all enjoying some beautiful winter weather! Here in our little swatch of North Carolina, we've been loving the gorgeous rainy days the season has brought us.  As Oregonians at heart, we know that this weather is perfect for so many delights, far more than most people realize. These kinds of days cheer our hearts, and we've lately been spotted romping through marvelously splashy puddles as well as nestling cozily in our little apartment, each of us with a stack of books to keep company.

      Cloudy, chilly days are ideal for cuddling with a pet and listening to one's favorite music, so I'd like to share some with you, dear reader. If you happen to be a heliophile and you are wilting away under clouds today, I also hope that this will cheer you up a little! A note about the name:  Much as I have enjoyed "Music Mondays" over at the blog of the lovely Katie, to copy her title and schedule would simply be bad taste. ;) Thus, it is with the straightest of faces that I now present Practically Absurd's latest feature,

       Though this lovely song may not entirely share our warm approach to storms,  I thought that the subject matter would be a fitting way to kick off the new post series. :) Enjoy!

What about you? What are a few of your favorite rainy day songs? :)

Resolved to be Resolute

Hello, all! :D

(Via Luca Barcellona)

   

     I hope your year is off to a great start! No doubt most of you have picked a few festive-yet-daunting resolutions to overhang you in the coming year.  I salute you, my fellow overly-ambitious souls, and wish you all the greatest success! :D

    

     While Christmas has always been my favorite holiday (I’m a sucker for red and green, ginger snaps, and general jollity), I’ve lately become increasingly fond of New Year’s Day.  I think that the older I get, the more I appreciate a symbolic fresh start on life.  (“Symbolic” because, of course, we have the ability to begin life afresh each day, and even each moment.  It’s nice, though, to have the promise of a brand new year to give us an extra boost.) Sadly, however, as a newcomer to the confident spirit of this particular holiday, I have yet to make many goals weightier than my trademark New Year’s Notes to Self, of which I have a fair few.  ;D

    

      I do have one resolution for this year, though.  I’m trying not to hate being known. This blog is a part of that project.

     

      Speaking of goals, I do have one list I’ve recently begun!  I stumbled across the pattern for it a few months ago on a lovely site called Little Luck Tree, and I thought that any comrades-in-plans out there might like it, too. J The idea, as you can see, is to achieve a certain number of goals before you reach a certain age. I wrote my list in December, and now have about eight months to complete it. ;) So here is my version, laughably simple in some places, but ridiculously unrealistic in the main.  Enjoy!

21 Before 21!

1.    Read 21+ new books.

2.    Lose 21+ pounds.

3.    Make a new friend.

4.    Memorize Psalm 21 and Proverbs 21.
5.    Do 21 hours of community service.

6.       Hike five new trails.

7.       Curl 21 pounds bilaterally (21 reps). [What was I thinking?!]

8.       Do 21 push-ups.

9.       Run a 5k.

10.   Finish that picnic blanket!

11.  Join a bookclub.

12.   Write 210 pages. [Reduced from 2,100, believe it or not. :D Heh heh.]

13.   Find 21 resources for The Plan. [Will have more to post about that soon, I hope! J]

14.   Read 21+ new theology books.

15.   Write 21 poems. [Heh, yeah right.]

16.   Translate 21+ pages of Nada, by Carmen Laforet.

17.   Explore 21 new places.  [Shouldn’t be too difficult, actually, since I just moved to a new state a few weeks ago.]

18.  Join a team (ministry, volunteer, professional, etc.).

19.  Write 21 letters.

20.   Do 21 drawings.

21.   Make a list of 21 good things about myself.  [My mother’s suggestion.  Probably the most challenging.]

  

             How about you? Do you have any goals for this year? Have you ever used a tool like the "X Before X" pattern for setting goals? Which goal that you've accomplished has been your favorite?

         Best of luck, adventurers!  Here’s a sappy song to send you on your way. J

Happy New Year!

Howdy, cyber pilgrim!

     Pleased to meet you!  I hope that you’ll enjoy each of your visits here.  If you’d like to leave a comment, send a note, or join the conversation elsewise, I’d be delighted to hear from you!

     I’m so excited to begin this project with you, dear reader.  An adventure awaits us, full of silliness and seriousness, whimsy and pragmatism, and our travels will wander happily through as many realms as strike our fancy or ignite our imagination.  Before beginning this odyssey, however, it seems fitting both to thank God for providing this fresh start and to pay a brief but deeply heartfelt homage to my greatest inspiration: my family.

      If not for my family, all the wonders of the world would not stir me.  They are my reason to live, and they daily fill my spirit with laughter, my heart with warmth, my mind with reflection, and my soul with prayer.  I could go on forever about the virtues, beauties, and quirks of each one, and they are each precious to me. I'm now pleased to dedicate this blog, such as it is, to those who come second in my heart only to God.

Thank you so much, guys, for everything  you do! I love you!

L.