Take Back Your Life!

On Christmas Eve, I picked up the phone and called five friends, three were home, two were out. I hadn’t spoken to some of them in years. I’d been meaning to call. Yet, the days turned into months, the months into years. One was a best friend from grade school. We reminded each other of a tree we climbed in her backyard, a birch onto which we carved our initials and the initials of boys we liked. I wonder if that tree and the four sets of initials still exist? Thinking about the sets of initials reminded me of my favorite line from one of my favorite movies: The Summer of ’42, “Life is made up of small comings and goings, and for everything we take with us, there is something we leave behind.” We move forward in life, but little bits of us stay behind for others to find. If you haven’t seen that 1971 coming of age movie, I highly recommend it. It’s beautiful and tragic and uplifting and breathtaking. And has no special effects, unless you count the magical things we forget that nature can do. 

Today’s movies seem to be less about humans connecting and more about making the biggest, loudest bang with the fanciest high technology gizmos. If there’s a plot, it can be hard to find. I prefer quiet movies where people learn things about each other and life. Recently, I watched Truman Capote’s The Grass Harp, another lazy coming of age movie. Piper Laurie gives a mesmerizing performance as the delicate and fragile Dolly Talbo who helps awaken the five senses of her young nephew during their visits to a tree house in a nearby meadow. She tells him that the singing sounds made by the tall Indian grass are the voices of the dead, collected by the wind and blown through. The movie isn’t in a hurry to go anywhere. It saunters around, giving the characters plenty of time to hang out with each other. No high tech distractions.

When I grew up we spent all our free time hanging out with friends. Organized sports wasn’t big. Homework was minimal. Texting and computers didn’t exist. We spent a lot of time laughing, playing around in the woods, resting on moss. God, I loved moss. Whenever I saw it, I wanted to lay down on it and take a nap. As an adult, I kneel down when I see it and course my fingers over the delicate soft, green plants. We’ve got quite a bit under some of our ancient trees in the yard. A comfy mattress for anyone in need of a rest. A rest from the speed and noise whizzing on by.

I’m not making any big, lofty goals about making millions of dollars on New Year’s. Instead, I’m going to spend more time with friends, more time with nature and more time taking my time. A pact with myself to stop and smell the roses, to look inside the center of flowers, to listen to the grass sing. How about you? Do you have any interest in slowing your life down? I’d love to hear … G.