I can’t seem to keep my head up while walking on the trail. So busy dodging half-buried tree
roots and navigating the uneven surface, my eyes are pulled downward. When I remind myself
that I am out here to be in nature and lift my head, I hear birds’ chirping. I notice the swish of
brush as four-legged creatures scurry back into hiding. I am startled by the sudden splashes of
purple and red growing alongside the sawgrass palm. The honeyed, dappled sunlight of near
dusk filtering through the upper tree branches. I am transfixed. In tune with reality. At least for a
moment or two. Until my head drops back down. Gravity, I guess.
Is it that I don’t trust the path, or my feet, or both? Look up, and I awaken to reality. Look
down, and I get trapped in the beehive of my busy mind. What should I make for dinner? Did I
word that email correctly? How many more miles do I have to go? Will I make it home before
dark? What should I write about in my next blog? What can I do for people a world away who
are living the nightmare of war?
Look down and my insecurities and fears take over. Look up and I see . . . life. But if I don’t
study the ground, don’t I risk a misstep? Besides, didn’t I write most of my doctoral dissertation
during those long 6-10 mile trail runs? There lies the conundrum. How to walk my life’s path in
such a way that I know how to apply my mind to the task of figuring things out, reflecting,
planning, while living in the present. Mindfulness teaches us to practice being fully in the
moment. To Eckhart Tolle that means being in tune with the sensory world and what he refers to
as the “inner energy field” which is the “portal to consciousness,” and not getting lost in the
“egoic mind.” A lot of meditation teachers agree with this principal. Just bring yourself back to
the moment, they say, without judgment.
I’m working on that. The trail is a good teacher.