Decay and Rebirth
Decay and Rebirth
Its been a long winter. Heading out for a walk with my dear friend, Amy, is an opportunity to talk and walk, an activity that allows us to catch up and safely delve into our emotional innards supported by explorations of our natural world.
This walk was an inspection of sorts. Just coming out of the car I was met with the vibrant green expanse of grassland, covered with blue sky and sun soaked, curvaceous clouds floating on the horizon of this picture. A lone tree welcoming me, beckoning me toward her.
As we strolled out to inspect the neglected structures at the edge of this scene, we were welcomed by these little Ferdinands. These sweet young cows, just hanging out on the road like a trio of teenagers stood their ground, basking in their chosen swath of sunlight, undaunted by us approaching humans.
I couldn’t have chosen or imagined a more poignant symbol of rebirth and its stubborn existence than these delightful young bovines. After such a persistent season of short, cold, dark days, being met with these babes on this early spring outing was a greeting of hope, promise and youthful optimism.
Onward to the gorgeous structures of a ghost of a farm, leaving me feeling like a Miyazaki character investigating an abandoned world like in Spirited Away. The old barn still rising above the blackberry vines gaining on this timber frame determined to consume this beautiful monolith.
And the old farm house listing like an amusement park crooked house, betraying any logic as to why this quant home has been left to rot, with its promising vintage wallpapers and victorian door moldings.
Both intriguing + inviting and perplexing + dangerous, the progress of this home’s decay clearly represents what happens when we withdraw and cease to breath life into places, people, relationships and things, regardless of their promise.
While it was hard to withdraw from our explorations of these structures and continue our walk, our little cow friends had long left us to pursue their own promise, leaving us to wade through fields of cow pies birthing potatoes. We laughed and wondered at this discovery. If anyone can explain the spontaneous growth of potatoes from cow shit, I’d be ever so grateful!
And as Amy and I discussed deeply personal realities, we left behind the decay and despair of these stoic, yet fading buildings, filled with the promise of our resorted personal narratives, embracing our awakening to the Spring and it’s assurances, while walking by more cows, congregating as families.
Withdrawing from this mystical, pastoral scene, we accept and let go of the decay of our lives, ready to build on the bright future of fresh days ahead.
Through this experience, this brief walk, I literally let go of so much holding me down, like those weedy vines tackling that proud, handsome barn, skipping over the cow pies, shedding the shit, leaving me ready to embrace what’s new and yet to come.