So I went for my walk. I decided to ride my bike up to the entrance of the trail on the outskirts of town where the burrowing owls live. It is one of my favorite spots in the city, and I haven't been for a few months.
The path to the trailhead is landscaped with honeysuckle and jasmine, and they were both in full bloom. I reduced my speed and took in slow, deep breaths of the heavenly aroma as I felt myself begin to relax. It is a beautiful day here in the Central Valley. The temperature is in the upper 70s; there is a gentle breeze; and there are some light, fluffy clouds drifting across the bright blue sky, which is very rare for June.
As I walked the trail, I was overwhelmed by a rapid array of shifting emotions. In addition to the resident colony of owls and ground squirrels, I saw several meadow larks, two kestrels, a cottontail bunny, and a jack rabbit. It was a good day for wildlife viewing, and I was excited.
But there were also a number of joggers and exercise walkers out. My first reaction to these more human companions was one of camaraderie and joy. I like to see people enjoying our public spaces and appreciating the great outdoors. There was one particular couple who caught my attention. They were middle aged and sharing a nice brisk stroll. Sometimes Darling Wife and I like to do this, and I felt a sort of connection to this couple. But then they got close enough to me for me to notice that they were carrying on a constant conversation. They walked right by the cutest bunch of fuzzy owl babies, and their heads didn't even move in that direction for a second. I realized that they weren't aware of their surroundings at all. They could have been in the shopping mall just as easily. Then for a moment, I was angry. I wanted to scream, "Why do you voluntarily blinder yourselves this way! PAY ATTENTION!" And just as suddenly, the anger was gone, and I felt sad, sorry for them. Do they even know what they are missing?
As I walked back toward my bicycle, I heard the wind move through the wild oats along the path. "Shhhhhhhh, shhhhhh." I often tease Darling Wife that the wind and the grass whisper secrets to me on these occasions, but the truth is, I've never heard a word. I stopped to listen, and I strained and I strained, but all I heard was "Shhhhhh, shhhhhh, shhhh." No words. Then, I became stiller, more silent. I stopped listening for something, and I just listened.
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, shhhhh, shhhhhhhhhhhh, shhhhhhhh, shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, shhhhhhhhhhhhh, shhhhhhhhhhhh.....
For the first time in my life, I think I actually heard.
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Suddenly being inside feels even more wrong than it did before.
In "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud," Wordsworth notes:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
So, don't fret that you are in doors. Make use of the inward eye and dance with the daffodills... or the wild oats. Shhhhh, shhhhhhh, shhhhhh.
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