This ol’ bag of bones

As I look out over a landscape that at first glance looks barren now, I see the arching dead branches of the Gambel Oak. They once created a tunnel of leafy boughs over the trail that beckoned the occasional hiker to enter and explore. Then raging flames ripped up the mountainside and in a geologic instant, transformed the lush forest into smoldering ash.

Momentary are these changes. Life here is altered. It will never be the same as it was before feeling the flame. But a winter of light snows and gentle rains have washed the ashy pallor from the mountainside and the spring warmth beckons change. Winter always looks barren with naked branches and fallen leaves but after a fire, more life has departed than usual. Soon, the Gambel Oak will wake from winter slumber and its roots pulse with purpose.

Quickly, the barren ground becomes a carpet of fresh green. The deep roots work hard and send life soaring from below. Many lives perished when those waves of flame roared by but many also survived. They hid deep in their earthen tunnels, or rocky havens or fleetly fled on foot or wing. Now life emerges once again. The landscape is changed but still, nature knows the rhythms that pulse as the seasons change and life continues onward.

Where once there were Douglas Fir and lofty Ponderosa Pines, the thickets of Quaking Aspen and Gambel Oak spring forth. Natures’ face looks a bit different but soon, prior inhabitants will return and find new neighbors and then the barren mountainside will be thriving once again. This sense of place is fluid. Life moves in a weaving dance to entwine the players. Partners change but still the story evolves and to those paying attention, that is what makes our days worthwhile. What makes you smile? What causes you to pause and sigh with contentment? Cherish those moments for they provide the strength to build your days upon. Look deeper than just skimming the surface of life. That is where the real story lies.

As I traveled the road this morning on my way to leave the truck and trust my feet to carry me into the wilds, I heard a song which in my senior years means more and more to me. One of my favorite performers, Guy Clark sings,

“This ol’ bag of bones ain’t really me

There’s a lot more standing here than what you see

The back is bending low

but my spirits flying free

Oh, this ol’ bag of bones ain’t really me.”

As I go about my days, I do wonder what people see. Is it just a tall, silver-haired old man with a quick smile but of no interest to the young folks? Do my stories of my life journey hold no value to glean tidbits of wisdom from? Do they blaze through their day knowing all there is to know? Or thinking they do? Funny thought as each moment brings a strong chance of changing winds and new adventures. Ahhhh, didn’t see that coming.

I met some folks my age the other day at a memorial for a dear friend. Some wanted to talk about our shared friend. Many just spoke of themselves. Others didn’t really seem to want to speak and were immersed deep in their own recollections. We are all different and yet we share many common threads in this fabric called life.

As I look out over the recently burned landscape before me, I ponder these many questions. I know the landscape will heal but as with most healings, changes have occurred. Stories lie buried but they still strongly exist. I challenge you to pause in your day today and look a bit deeper at your surroundings. If you are a plain white bread kind of person, well, just continue on your unobstructed way. But, if you like a rich, hearty whole grain bread with tahini and cinnamon or some other combination of flavors, indulge yourself. Take a different route to work. Hike a new trail or approach from untried direction. Try something you’ve never tried. It may be something you never try again but, you tried.

The world holds an unending story of fascinating moments. Pull up a chair and dig in!