Once upon a time, I lived in a place where the hills dipped themselves to valleys that cocooned Targets, supermarkets and movie theaters right alongside walls built by slaves during the Confederacy. This place is middle Tennessee, and every now and again, I have flash memories of driving down a winding road through those hills. In those moments, it's as almost as if I can feel the sunlight pouring through my car, hearing Ray Lamontagne's raspy voice serenade the journey. Sometimes my life is quite busy here in the big city, and sometimes the schedule allows me time to reflect. This holiday season has allowed me time to reflect. A few weeks ago, I visited Nashville to see dear friends, and those winding hills were not left to my imagination.
In early November, I had the windows down as bits of sunshine hit the dashboard through the tall trees that lined Franklin Road. Johnny Cash was on XRT, and he told me that sooner or later, God was gonna cut me down. With lyrics like that, you think I would be afraid. But with Johnny's smoky voice that resonated with lessons learned the hard way, I didn't mind the seriousness. It was like a grandpa singing about how important it was for me to take a good, long look at my life choices. You try not to take it too personally when grandpas do that, but Johnny...that's exactly what I did, thank you very much.
Along that beautiful stretch of Franklin Road, I was reminded that I take life too seriously. I honestly have no idea how to not take it seriously, as I am driven by guilt and the idea that I must prove myself at every turn. Prove to whom? And why? When did life become about proving and less about living each day simply to the fullest, with what is required of you that day? When did it become less about loving and more about achieving? I don't think achieving in and of itself is a terrible thing. It's a valiant thing to drive yourself further into goals and achievements. But when your spirit takes a hit in the wake of these efforts, it's time to step back and say...is this what it is about?
I walked through Centennial Park in Nashville to gather sunshine. I stripped my light sweater and raised my hands towards the sky in that vast park to fully appreciate the vitamin D coming my way. There was an elderly gentleman sitting on a bench, staring. I felt his loneliness. I passed by him, acknowledged his presence with a smile and head nod, and he did the same. Then he went back to staring. I wondered what his journey was like. What, in his life, led him to that bench? Was it a deceased spouse and active duty in a war? Was it a life of solitude and complacency where he was content to sit at a park bench while people watching? I felt so sorry for this man who was alone. I proceeded to walk around the lake, then made my rounds back to where I started, on the south side of the Parthenon. This time, I saw that same gentleman throwing the pitches for the rowdy softball game taking place. The thirty-somethings were treating him like one of the players. He threw pitches like he belonged to the team. He was not alone. He was playing the game. He knew when to sit and enjoy the sunshine, and he knew when to get up and join the rest of them. I wanna be that guy.
Achieving has its place and time. But fully taking in what we have, in the moment that we have it, is what feeds our soul. May I always be content to sit at a park bench, not concerned with achievements and accolades, allowing my soul to be fed a bit. Then, when it's time...get off the bench and walk towards the game.
