Unplugging From the World 5-18-10

Deep Gap, North Carolina

What grand luxury to be able to walk away from the strident cacophony of a frantic pace of life. How very different to be ‘off the grid’ without to-do lists, radio, TV, household responsibilities, cell phones, newspapers, ad infinitum. Today I was granted opportunity to drive away from daily life and come here and hide at the end of a gravel road from distraction in order to be found by What really matters. The weather proved a perfect metaphor for this transition to another way of living and being. Leaving home under bright sunny skies with temperatures in the 80s it was only a bit more than three hours before I found myself in dense cloud and 58 degrees, much like that sublime climate found in England and Wales this time of year, only nice and close in the hidden recesses of emerald Appalachia.

I didn’t have to take off my shoes or cram into 22 inches for nine hours or more. No one inquired about my ballistic potential. By 4 PM I found myself in more than a speck of paradise – a quaint little hermitage overlooking a valley filled with fields of lush Christmas trees. Here spring is just coming into full flower; this splendid little house embedded in a field of towering stalks of foxglove blooms, splendid purple, lavender, and white wonders. Verdant hosta of several varieties add emerald softness along with luxuriant fern. It never occurred to me that spring would wash over me again this year, having already seen spring come and go under the first heat of southern summer in Alabama, South Carolina and Georgia. Brilliant flecks of paradise have again come ashore in my life. Aureate sunshine of late afternoon irradiated lupine, columbine, flame azalea, rhododendron, lady slippers, and two dozen other delights growing here in abundance.

As grand as sudden immersion in a botanical wonderland might be, even grander is immersion in pure hospitality. For one growing up in the uncertainties and tribulations of alcoholism and drug addiction, there is a soul-restoring sort of overwhelm that comes from being the subject of such unconditional ‘wantedness.’ In alcoholic environments all one’s energies are given to surviving unwanted in an environment without easy exits.

This little house named Postinia is filled with all my favorite sorts of foods, juices, even fresh eggs from happy birds a hundred yards away. . Books by many of my favorite authors are here in abundance. The bed is covered with a mountain of pillows, just as I like it. An invitation to a dinner fit for the Revelation of John awaited.

The Gardeners who keep this emerald heaven in order were busy planting annuals and perennials around this little refuge when I dropped in from the outer chaos. In a world where so many are struggling with unemployment, the huge challenges of conserving mental and physical health, personal safety, and the larger angst our world is flooded with, I again wonder why it is granted for me to have this amazing option of opting out for a season, how it is that Some find the energies and attentions to make sure my little sanctuary is properly planted. Instantly names of dozens of dear souls come to mind, good loving people who desperately need this break from life. Perhaps one day it will be possible to right click, copy and paste, and bring them here to this experience. How I wish this for them – for many of them it is a matter of survival.

It has been eleven years since I first walked trails here in the company of a fine beagle with the moniker ‘Muffin.” Last year Muffin almost died from an abscessed tooth and was not up to prowling the woods with a city slicker. The attentive Gardeners got her into town just in time for treatment. This year with a few less teeth, Muffin is happily scampering in the woods, forever on hunt as good beagles always are. In a year’s time all five dogs here have been treated well by time and happily provided a frivolous sense of frolic to our after-dinner exploration in a world that needs a lot more of this. The little fearless Boston Terrier continues grappling with logs in the pond, unaware that twenty-pound dogs were not given life callings of managing mill ponds singlehandedly. Two tiny Chihuahuas add their moral support to the expedition. There is exquisite humor and release in watching these fearless diminutive dogs take on their world. I am reminded of the scriptural promise, “I can do all things through Christ Who strengthens me.”

I think of the millions trapped in front of plasma screens, infusing their souls with what’s wrong with the world, everything from off-shore drilling practices to ethics in government to fiscal mismanagement in European central banks. How I wish those where I live were out with their dogs after dinner walking around one of the myriad little lakes and ponds within a ten-minute walk, with an eye for the beauty immediately around them. The sun also rises over all those little lakes and ponds every day.

Here there are no sirens, garbage trucks, school busses, only the sounds of birds celebrating the first light of a groggy sunrise emerging from the dense fog shrouding ten thousand Christmas trees splayed out below. Earliest solar penetrations are having success at igniting first warmth of the day. In the distance a couple of roosters remind me of ancient days in Mexico, when other roosters heralded the start of a new day, days we could bring promise of physical health to the thousands waiting all night for our clinics and surgeries to open. In Appalachia roosters bring promise of a day in which healing for the soul is the order of the day – no scalpels or drugs needed.

The next right thing for me to do is to go find a good dog. Odds are one hundred percent I will find beauty, if only I look for it. The good news is you are playing with the same odds.