October 7, 2024

Nogal House

A Raw Sense Of Happiness

Suddenly it strikes me, this raw sense of happiness. A crude title? Perhaps, but it is the abrupt realization that I have, at least for the moment, achieved an elusive goal. Not that it hasn’t been present, this sense of serenity and stillness, but it is front and center this morning. In the absence of crisis, with no sense of or requirement for urgency, comes this moment. The air is still, the fire a gentle bed of coals, it’s purpose for the morning already served. Having so recently rebuilt my hearth I now have a place to build my morning fire, even as I am warmed by the rising sun. With but a handful of scrap lumber, such as there is a plentiful supply of, I can boil my tea, heat my wash water and my oatmeal. The joy of the ritual is a gift in itself, and the crackle of the flame a blessing. The waft of smoke from the stovepipe tells me the direction of the wind and even the temper of the day, a barometer without a gage. There are days the smoke falls to the ground and times when the fire won’t even heat. I am mindful of it all.

At present all that there is to break the silence is the chirp of birdsong, drifting in through the porch window from the sparrows clustered in the bushes to the north. There is a gentle and cooling breeze, and an occasional hum off the rafters. It should be cold this morning, but it is not, and the trees have barely begun to turn, even in the absence of a frost, as if they know it is time to drop their leaves even if it isn’t yet fall by the feel of things. Perhaps this is part of the calmness I feel, for there isn’t even the urge to cut wood, though my saws are loaded in my truck. I will cut wood, because it is October, and there will be winter, and I can never have enough wood for the years to come. But I am unhurried also, because I have been cutting wood for years and there is now plenty of it to meet my needs, for now. Even my garden sits at ready today, well watered and fed, carrots waiting to be pulled, swiss chard well established and the covers at ready for the cold. Even my water tanks are full and I could go for weeks before they ran low, if I waited that long, which I won’t. All of the above is as much the reason for this happiness as anything else as for the moment I want for nothing. My bills, few that they are, are paid, and my debts are being reduced, gradually but routinely as well. After all of the years of struggle I am finally realizing the reward of those efforts, as well as of the lessons.

What lessons? First and foremost, that the serenity I feel at this very moment has always been a constant, it is I who have been absent. This quiet, this stillness, this absence of crisis has existed since time began, I just had to get here. I have awakened in this very spot, on and off, for the past twenty-one years. I have returned to this place after lengthy days and lengthy absences to restore my mind, my body and my spirit. I have watched the morning sun touch the high peaks and make her morning walk across the grassy slopes more times than I can count, and seen the sunset to the west in the same number. I know the feel of the quiet and the stillness here and the arrangement of the stars as well as I do each and every line on my face, and perhaps even better, for again, these elements of nature and beauty are a constant. The lines on my face and the gray hair on my head have evolved over time, in the same fashion this inherent wisdom has developed. I say inherent for it is omnipresent, and again, it is I who has been absent.

All of this came to focus in a flash this morning. The Forest Service is reseeding the burn scars to the south of me, wounds which were so far reaching this summer and which brought a looming sense of crisis into all of our lives with fire and flood for weeks at a time. We all spent half of our summer in flight, from flames, and smoke, and floods, let alone the shared angst of such events. Only now have things calmed and restored the quietude to our lives, or at least to some of them, as it has with mine. An hour ago, I heard the hum off a helicopter and as he flew north, he came low and close over my house, certainly to take a better look. I waved, I laughed, and I smiled. Such a sight I must have been there on the porch by the hearth, my wares laid out on the table, my hair as yet uncombed but wet from the water in the basin. He would have seen the well-worn roof of the house, the stovepipes for the fires, the garden and the woodpiles. He must have smiled to himself and considered the simplicity that surrounds my life. He reminded me of the same.

A raw sense of happiness. There is no urgency in my life today, no pressing need, no crisis to be faced with. Neither is there a sense of loneliness or the absence of something I cannot live without. Funds are slim, as always, but my needs have all been met, few that they are. The years of pressing forward to some unattainable goal are behind me and I have almost everything I have ever wished for, with very few exceptions. Of course, those things are far less than most of us could live with, but far more than others will ever attain. I need but food, shelter and mobility to be content, but it is the things of spirit which hold the greatest value, and perhaps that is the example I wish to make. We can surround ourselves with wealth and riches and still never find this happiness I speak to. Sometimes it is the very absence of things which hold the greatest value. The serenity I feel at this very moment has been right here all along and has again been restored by the simple, raw, sense of happiness. I can ask for nothing more.