This is a land that sucks your blood, leaves welts. A beautiful land of wildflowers, breezes, and extremely large mosquitos.
Springs gurgle from rocks and create black mud, perfect for our German Shepherd to coat herself in for protection against the flying bloodsuckers.
We walk and explore the land, coating ourselves in DEET, though I think the dog’s idea of a mud barrier is probably smarter. Woods of moss and ferns and plants I can’t identify yet are in our backyard, and I wonder what animals call it home. Certainly a moose. We’ve seen the evidence.
It’s a quiet place, full of birdsong.
Interestingly, it’s taking some gettin’ used to. Is this what decompression feels like? How can peace be a little agitating?
This is exactly what I prayed for: quiet, land, financial freedom, the ability to raise our own kids.
But there’s an agitation that comes from exiting the old world — the world of machines and capitalism and complacency. This new world requires attention and intention. It requires reading on the front porch (covered in DEET, mind you) and hand scribbling in notebooks.
This world is fresh fruit in the morning, sitting at the table together.
This world is a nap in the afternoons when the sun reaches its peak.
This world is a prayer when I’m handwashing the dishes.
This world is a drive to the coast to find purple shells and crabs.
This world is a smile to the Amish mother at Dollar General.
This world is slowing down the frenetic pace of my anxious thoughts.
Oh, slow world. Please capture the pace of my life and allow me to actually live it.
Thank you Lauren for your thoughtful reflection
Gorgeous reminder Lauren. I too struggle with “being” rather than producing.