Bookstore Musings 1-4-10

River Falls, South Carolina

I was sitting in the Books-a-Million café Saturday reading a book by a fellow who talked about living life fully after being diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s Disease. His story resonated with me as it was thought I might have this twenty years ago. I found his insights inspiring. He learned that by facing his losses he could now much more fully live. He mentioned hiking the White Mountains of Vermont while he could and that there would be that day when he could not. It came to pass. But he did push his wheelchair to the view spots along the road when he could. He no longer can do that. He mused that for all of us there would be that last time we would see the grand aureate sunshine of late afternoon. I thought about that as I walked three miles yesterday in that late golden light just before sunset, even though the wind chill was fourteen degrees. I could be in a morgue freezer tomorrow, where it is colder yet. The future is shrouded.

It occurred to me while sitting in the bookstore that I had not been contra dancing since I broke my leg a long time ago; that something else might prevent me from doing that ever again, perhaps tomorrow, or perhaps twenty years from now. To the best of my knowledge nothing would prevent me from doing so that night. I knew where a fine contra band would be playing and where 200 happy people would soon be in an ebullient state of flow. I had a way to get there. I also recall a friend telling me she had never seen me really have fun except when I was contra dancing. I instantly put the book up and went home, made a fast dinner, and headed to the mountains at sunset where I knew there would be happy music wafting from an old rustic dance hall in a small mountain valley next to a tumbling mountain stream.

Listening to an audio tape on “Living in the Mind of God” given to me at Christmas, while driving to the mountains at sunset, was like a mini-retreat. As I was driving northeast, a huge aureate full moon rose in the east, occasionally eclipsed by wispy high clouds. By the time I reached the mountains the moon was platinum and this greatly magnified the numinous wonder of the fresh snowfall covering the surrounding landscape. In but ninety minutes I felt like I had made a journey that far transcended the physical distance between my house and this old weathered dance hall in the mountain forest. The physical world was transformed and my temperament certainly was.

I did dance and did not miss a dance during the first two hours and did not hold back on swinging, stomping, and promenading. My friend was right. I really do have fun when I am out there on that floor and I had happy reunions with some people I had not seen in too long. The drive home was like another mini-retreat, illuminated by the intense silver orb, now guiding me southwest to a warm bed and pleasant dreams.

I sure am glad I got out of the house Saturday night.