Walks with Barry - Profoundly Simple: A Walk Reframed

As I walked down one of my favorite streets this morning, I came across a play house at the curb in front of a house. My first thought was that someone had grown up over these months of my walking. Then I imagined that perhaps they had grown up a while ago and had just now gotten around to cleaning out and redecorating their room. Of course, it could be that this play house had sat unused for years in the attic or garage and was just now being set free from the grip of nostalgia and sweet memories of simpler, more innocent times. This play house is very neat and orderly. Every room is fixed with all the details painted on crisp and clean. The rug is never askew and the pictures on the wall are always straight. Everything is always in order. I suppose that is why we call it a “play”house! Real houses are seldom so neat and orderly, at least for very long. Homes in real life with real people living in them are often a little out of order; or a lot out of order, depending on the busyness ...

On this beautiful, though somewhat dust-filled, morning walk, I turn a corner to find this scene that takes me back to memories of my teenage years. Who knew that people still had their yards TPed? It was a weak effort for sure, with too few rolls of toilet paper and the under-utilization of some perfect trees, but still, I give the job an “A” for effort - and for the memories. Obviously a teenager lives here. A teenager who is in a group and is probably well liked. I wonder if parents in the Year 2020 still struggle to understand how making such a mess is, more often than not, a sign of affection. Whatever the motivation, someone has some clean-up work in their future. Often in our journey through life we find ourselves in scenes whose meaning is not clear to those who casually pass by, or to those closest to us, or even to ourselves. Things aren’t always as they appear. At moments in time our life can appear perfect to others, yet be filled with emptiness. At another moment the scene...

As the sun was rising on the quiet, beautiful park in my neighborhood, I happened upon this interesting scene. Since it was so early, there were few people out and about. There were certainly no families present with a little one that would fit this tiny, beginner-sized scooter. So as you can imagine, I was thoroughly intrigued by this image. Where did the child go? What brought an end to the previous evening’s ride which had led to this spot on the park trail? Will I find the scooter in the morning when I pass this way again? Did a parent, in a rush to make the next event on their family’s crowded schedule, tell the child to “just leave it there”, or will they spend time on this morning searching high and low for this mysteriously missing mode of transport? I wonder. The contrast of the small scooter and the openness of the vast dew-soaked field seemed powerful to me. What might it represent? A young child with their whole life stretching out before them? Perhaps an adult whose caree...

With the combination of recent heavy rainfall and summer sun, my daily walks once again provide many examples of new life. On this day, my neighborhood seems to have entered a second Spring with lush, green lawns and new plantings. It has even been a little cooler early in the morning before the sun rises high in the sky. It is certainly a beautiful world to enjoy these days. For example, the family that lives on this corner created three raised beds along the front of their property in the space between the sidewalk and the street. It was interesting to watch the project take shape. First the wooden frames were built in place. Then, a few days later, they were filled with fresh soil. A few days later still, one flowering plant was placed in one corner of each bed. Next came the wire protective gear and I knew what had happened: seeds had been planted! I imagine the parents planted seeds so that the several small children who call this corner home could watch them grow and learn a bit ...

For the first time in these weeks upon weeks of walking, my route was canceled due to rain. And not just for one morning, but two in a row. Hard to imagine that this much time could pass before it happened. It was more than a little surprising how much this affected my day. These walks were started as a temporary routine designed to fill the loss of my 20+ year -long morning practice of going to the gym at 5.30 am each day. I discovered that I do, without a doubt, have a new routine. I enjoy the rain. I even enjoy walking in the rain. A thunderstorm is a different issue all together. But the view from under the cover of my back deck was still spectacular. I did not get my steps in or burn many calories, but I did enjoy some memories long past. When I was a boy, we lived atop a high hill in an area that was a “Tornado Alley”. Come Spring, such storms were a way of life. I can still remember how I loved the feel of the weather as it changed. The dark, billowing clouds blowing past, ill...

Sometimes it’s nice to be reminded of something you already know. When times are challenging, when we are frustrated or disappointed, we can know something intellectually and not be able to feel it or find the truth of it in our heart. That’s when to be reminded of something we already know is a gift. On my walk I came upon this beautiful little garden with this simple but powerful sign: “Hope is not Cancelled”. I already knew that fact. I’ve believed the truth of this sign for a lifetime. But the impact was profound. As I stopped and spent a moment, I realized that though I knew this truth, I had not really felt it in awhile. The great Langston Hughes wrote, “Hold fast to dreams, For if dreams die, Life is a broken-winged bird, That cannot fly.” Hope matters. The challenge is that in the times we need hope the most, hope is often hard to feel and hard to find. Hope is a powerful force, both by its presence and by its absence. With hope, we human creatures can endure struggles and chal...

On this day, my walk included a glance at my backyard roses that are in the process of adjusting to the heat of a Texas summer. I was struck, as always, by the contrast of the new blooms and the faded roses. Every time I tend them, I pause and take in the unique beauty of both. Each new bud brings an excitement and anticipation all its own. I frequently wonder why one bush blooms in bunches and another more slowly, a few buds at a time. I often find myself wishing I had the talent to paint so that I might capture this beauty that seems almost of another world. As the flowers fade from day to day, I am struck by how quickly their time passes. It seems a shame, really, that such beauty be so fleeting. I want to capture the peak of their beauty and hold it fast. But, then again, perhaps this is the way of much that is truly beautiful. A single day is short, just twenty four hours, yet a single day can hold so much that we celebrate the beauty of it across the rest of our lives: a wedding ...

As I walked through the park this morning, it was a treat to come upon one of the hallmark images of summer: a kid running through a sprinkler on a hot day. I must admit, for a brief instant I was tempted to pull of my shirt and kick off my shoes and join her! But my schedule, as well as my concern for my fellow humans, stopped me from creating an image innocent bystanders would never be able to unsee. There was something about the sound of the sprinkler tick-tick-ticking away in the sunlight that took me back to my own childhood. The cool water, the spray picked up and carried by the wind, the smell of wet grass, the innocence of a playing child’s laughter - what a powerful flood of memories! As I enjoyed this scene I could only think of one word: joy. There are few images that convey joy more fully than that of children playing in the water. The simplicity and purity of the moment speak to me. They don’t overthink. They don’t watch the clock. They don’t worry about what is coming up ...

This particular morning brought a spectacular sky and unusually wispy clouds to welcome me on my walk. It seemed as if the heavens were a giant canvas upon which a master artist was a in the midst of a lovely watercolor painting. As the Psalmist wrote, “The heavens are telling the glory of God.” What a wonderful way to start the day! One of the songs that I learned as a child has stayed with me across the decades of my life and has come to be the statement of my theology and my faith. I remember my mother singing this with me as a small boy as I stood beside her old “upright grand” piano. One stanza of the poem set to music reads: “Could we with ink the ocean fill And were the skies of parchment made, Were every stalk on earth a quill And every man a scribe by trade; To write the love of God above Would drain the ocean dry, Not could the scroll contain the whole Though stretched from sky to sky.” I believe that even when it doesn’t look like it, this is the truth. I beli...

I have so enjoyed the beautiful fields of wildflowers that grace the park in my neighborhood during the spring and early summer. Day after day I have stopped on my walk and admired the colors. I have taken numerous pictures, and in fact used one of a red poppy lost in this particular sea of purple for a morning essay earlier in the pandemic. Even though I knew this day would come, I was caught off-guard when I strolled upon the demise of the wildflower field on my morning walk today. My world looked very different. My world felt very different. Change can have that effect on us. The philosopher of Ecclesiastes wrote, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” True words indeed. Nothing stays the same. Well, that may not be accurate. Let me try this again, nothing ALIVE stays the same. Nineteen years ago I moved into a house with a large, fantastic lot. Beautiful towering trees shaded a lawn of thick, well established grass. The previous owners,...

I love this new trend of painting rocks and leaving messages around for walkers and other passers by that, up until now, I had only heard about. Today, my walk brought me an encounter with this beautifully painted stone. Left randomly near the sidewalk, it caught my eye by both the vibrant colors and the succinct message, “Be You”. Oscar Wilde wrote, “Be yourself. Everyone else is already taken.” I don’t know if this neighborhood artist is familiar with the great writer, but I would sure like to think so. Either way, it is good advice for anyone on any day: “Be You”. We humans are certainly interesting creatures. We share a common planet. Across all cultures we hold common dreams of love and relationships and opportunity. We share in common a tenuous existence, vulnerable to fear and sickness and death. We share common aspirations to know what lies beyond our sight and grasp. In this present moment in time, we share this common experience of pandemic. Yet with all we share in common we...

As the days of my walks have stretched from weeks into months, I have witnessed many transitions. The weather has changed from cool and comfortable to miserably hot. Lawns have moved from dormant to lush. Trees have filled out and flowers now bloom at every turn. I’ve watched a child learn to ride a big bike and leave behind a bit of their young, brief past. I have experienced transition myself during these months. My hair is much longer than when I began this journey. I have moved from working out of the office to working out of my home and back to working out of the office once again. I now spend more of my time writing and less of my time talking with others face to face. I have had to learn to do a job I’ve done all my life in new ways. Yes, during these days of walking, transitions abound. On this particular morning the sky was as clear as it could possibly be, without a cloud in sight. These conditions seemed to amplify the clarity and beauty of the transition from night to day...

After all these days of walking, I am still occasionally surprised at the changes that appear on these streets from one day to the next. Sometimes it is as simple as a lawn being mowed or trees getting a trim. Sometimes it is as dramatic as piles of demolished lumber and sheet rock appearing at the curb from a remodel. Today it was the addition of a fort. This captured my attention because this yard had been the same, day after day, until now. Also, my best friend has a child who is, at this moment, a world class fort engineer, an aficionado of design and engineering who practices their craft on a regular basis during this pandemic. Most of all, this scene took me back into my own memories of childhood. The home of my childhood backed up to acre upon acre upon acre of woods. This was my playground. I spent every possible hour roaming these woods. Through the years I created hand-drawn maps of large portions of the land, highlighting landmarks and naming various trails and sections. And...

As I made my rounds in the neighborhood, someone had added this sign to their yard. I have seen signs like this, or other versions of them, around for years, but never here at this particular spot. But I do know that in the hot afternoons, this yard is full of children from all along the block as the slip and slide and other water toys offer relief from the sun - and an opportunity for parents to visit. This yard is the site of much happiness these days. The sign brought to mind a truth I learned as a small child in Sunday School. It was once accepted as the foundation of Christian ethics, and hopefully it will return to that important role in the future. It was called the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” Simply profound and profoundly simple.  Drive like your kids live here. What if we drove through life embracing this idea?  What if we made the commitment, not just to refrain from harmful or disrespectful acts but to actively pursue acts of k...

As I walked my course through the neighborhood, I came upon what I immediately began to regard as the “yard of gratitude”. I love to imagine that this family just woke up one day and felt an overwhelming urge to show their appreciation for those who were helping others in these crazy days. The signs themselves give me this feeling. It appears that someone wanted to say thank you to a particular group of workers but, once they got started, they could not stop. They just added a group, then another, then another. The result was this wonderful,  crowded mess of a sign, written by many hands, that overflowed into the need for a small add-on sign that serves to explain the family’s motivation. It would appear that once they paused to be grateful, they were overwhelmed with the good work of so many. Challenges to living in gratitude abound. There are moments and situations in our lives that are difficult, heartbreaking, unfair and unjust. We face days when we are overwhelmed by grief and...

What a pleasant surprise when, on my walk today, I came upon this message. It seems that after a long, long hiatus at least one of my neighborhood sidewalk artists is emerging from retirement and seclusion. I hope they are the first of many. I hope they will be back at their creative work with the same energy that flowed so freely in the first weeks of this bizarre season. I hope their work brings them as much joy as it brings me. For some reason, my favorite sidewalk messages seem to always contain a misspelled word or unintentional aspect of humor. I am sure this reveals both my love for the honesty of the artist, as well as my somewhat quirky view of life. For whatever reason, these not so perfect messages make me smile a not so perfect smile in this far from perfect world. This welcome sign was, indeed, a welcome sight. Besides hopefully marking a comeback of the neighborhood artists, it captured my attention because it stood oddly alone. In the past I would have expected this to w...

During these months of walking, several random days have brought to my eyes a version of the gift of this scene. A young mom and her little girl leisurely walking their dog. The little one is always dressed to the nines, outfit always complete with the perfect hat, mother and daughter always holding hands and softly chatting as they stroll. Sometimes the girl holds the leash, sometimes the mom. Their pace always calm and peaceful. Even their small dog seems content, never barking or pulling against their required restraint. They seem to float, untouched, through these troubled times. I do not understand completely why this trio moves me so. I suppose I wonder if they somehow manage to carry this calm indoors, and how they might sustain it throughout the day. I always love a good story, so I imagine theirs, trying to guess where mom and dad  are from and how they met and when they moved into our little neighborhood. As I always do, I see a little one, obviously loved, and I wonder w...

On my walk today I was surprised by a wonderful flood of memories sparked by this Wisteria vine. That is my favorite aspect of sweet memories, they sometimes just come, unbidden. I grew up in a little house on a steep hillside with towering trees all around. On the downhill side of the house was a massive Hickory tree, straight and true. And somewhere along the way, decades before I arrived on the scene, a Wisteria vine had been planted at the base of the impressive trunk. With each passing year the vine had grown larger and wound its way a little further up the tree. By the time I was a boy, the Wisteria had climbed up and up to a height of probably 40 feet.  As a boy, this became one of my favorite spots around my home. The vine was thick and sturdy and it always made me think of Jack and the Beanstalk. I spent many an hour looking up into that tree and imagining the climb. Even to this day I wish I’d given it a try. I count this as one of my life’s regrets.  But the best me...

If you know me well, you know the reason these two little scooters would catch my eye today on my walk. They are parked almost perfectly. Almost. And you will be glad to know I fought the urge to straighten the one on the left, though it was only a matter of inches from true parking perfection. Of course, this pair caught my eye for other reasons as well. These little scooters are just so cute. I wonder how the little owners came to line up the wheels so true, appearing that at any moment a flag will wave and a race will begin, with or without their passengers aboard. Most of all, I enjoy watching scooters like these buzz around the neighborhood, seemingly always half a block ahead of mom and dad and siblings, as if the rider is blazing a trail for the family on some difficult and promising journey west in search of a better life.  But these little scooters also bring to mind the memories of two. Do these belong to two little people who both live in the house in front of which they...

On this day’s journey I am greeted by the sunrise and the play of light and shadow through the old Oaks that stand silent sentry along the streets of my neighborhood. It is a striking and beautiful scene, always different yet always the same. It is the sameness that marks the beginning of the new day. It is the different that makes each sunrise beautiful in itsel f. As a child, I can recall being so energized with expectation that I could not sleep. Tomorrow is my birthday! Tomorrow is the beginning of an exciting trip! Tomorrow I see my best friend! Tomorrow is Christmas! If only the sunrise would come and time would allow me to get on with it! It is the expectation of the the different that makes such an anticipated sunrise beautiful. At other moments along the way of life’s journey, I have known that excitement to diminish to barely a whisper in my heart. The new day brings the same problem, the same frustration, the same disappointment, the same grief. In times such as this it is t...

As I made my daily rounds I came across this yard with a freshly painted, bright and cheerful picnic table and benches. I wondered if it was a new addition to the family’s life or if it was an old friend that had made the big move from the back yard behind the fence. Many neighbors have slowly “set up shop” on their porches and in their front yards over these months. Some now work in well equipped open-air offices, complete with computers and  printers. Others sit and read and watch the world go by. I imagined who sits at this table, and how many might gather there. I have never seen the occupants of this house, so I have free reign in my musings. I picture a small child’s birthday party with their favorite cake sitting in the middle of this table, candles ablaze. Or perhaps the parent of a parent sitting quietly here and smiling as they look into the face of the baby they hold, their first grandchild. I can imagine plates of food, hot off the grill, as the family gathers for a mea...

By now you are well aware that, as I walk, my mind is filled with images. It is something of an adventure each day, and each journey brings an excitement and anticipation all its own. What will greet me this day? What will I stumble upon that holds the power to change how I see myself or that leads me to see the world of my neighbors differently? As I pass this lovely yard I am struck by a feeling of invitation. This is the most welcoming spo t on my daily tour. The grass is thick and the trees soar. The landscaping is tenderly cared for by loving hands. Each time I pass this way and peer into this world, I feel the urge to linger for a while. When it is hot, the shade beckons. When I am tired, these chairs call to me and offer me rest. When I am feeling alone, the fact that there is seating for two gives me comfort and seems to whisper to my soul that I need not be, nor am I, alone. Indeed, this place is the very vision of invitation. St. Augustine writes that, “Thou hast made us for ...