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Thoughts from the North Woods, Part 1

May 16, 2011

I had the opportunity to spend the weekend at Trout Lake Camp (3 hours north of the Twin Cities), and it afforded me plenty of time for reflection and writing.  Over the next few days I’d like to share some of what I wrote.  Some of it is poetic, some of it is just stream-of-consciousness musings brought on by the cool breeze and calling loons.

A beautiful deck, looking out at the bay.  Birds chirping, declaring the goodness of the Lord.
Tiny flashes of green; leaves attempting their yearly defeat of winter; an act of defiance against the rain and cool breeze.
The sun is trying to poke through; a bit of hope amidst the gloom.

The lake ripples from the passing pontoon, no doubt disturbing the walleye hidden below the surface.
Perhaps the fish are writing their own notes, pondering the shiny-hulled (is that what they call it?) giant as it chops through their lake.
Is the sand disturbed? Does the fisherman leave a trail of blinding muck?

[A loon cries across the bay]

But I speak of things unseen.
I know nothing of the lives of fish apart from their shore-lunch demise.

The loon calls again.
It’s a sound of yearning, a cry for its creator.
I can relate.
Even at my best moments there is uncertainty;
An unsettledness I can’t quite describe.
Something is off.
The world is not right.
Her people do not acknowledge her creator.
THEIR creator.
The loon knows this. She is smarter than I. She doesn’t choose to live in her God-ordained loon-ness.
She just lives.
Her identity simply… is.

The concept is profound in its simplicity.

The world spins. It didn’t ask to be spun. It didn’t ask to be forced to submit to the laws of nature (and who is this “Newton,” anyway?). And yet it does.

The wind is blowing through the trees. Of course, it’s simply air rushing from an area of high pressure to one of lower pressure.
But it speaks.
It tells me where it has been.
“Greetings from California.”
“Sorry about the snow in Denver.”

It has seen much, made friends with clouds, oceans, tornadoes…
Perhaps it will cool me during my travels.
“Greetings, old friend.”

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