Walks with Barry - Profoundly Simple: A Walk Reframed

Since the pandemic began, I have been walking. I am now walking through my third season of 2020. First Spring, then Summer and now Fall. I have watched the plants change. I have watched the activities of families and children change. I have felt the temperatures rise and fall. One of the most fascinating changes is the change in the light. The sun rises much later and it’s angles are striking. This morning, after almost an hour of walking in the dark, I turn the corner and felt a bit like Moses. I saw a blaze that stopped me in my tracks. It took me a moment to realize I had not walked upon a wild fire. This was the sun bursting into the day. It was a truly astounding sight. I felt the need to pause and be still in the presence of such a overwhelming moment. It was most impressive. I’m always amazed when I ponder the concept of space, with the rotating earth revolving around the sun so far, far away. What a wonder. What a miracle. Yet all is tied to this one phenomenon. Each day of our

Unfortunately, for various reasons, I missed my routine walk this morning. But then this moon greeted me tonight, and all was right with the world. A haze made the moon appear a lamplight far on the horizon, floating free in the darkness of the wide sky. It seemed to me a beacon, a guide in the night. For a person who grew up outdoors and often in the woods, I am famous for my terrible sense of direction. As a boy, I knew the anxiety that came with realizing I was turned and all alone a long way from home. As a teenager I knew the embarrassment of going into the woods with friends in the darkness of a cold winter morning, only to find with the rising sun that I had not ended up in my spot. I then spent all the time my friends were hunting trying to find my way back to something familiar. As a city-dwelling adult, I am frequently driving the wrong direction or failing to take the correct exit or at a loss to find my truck. At work these days, when asked to park in a place other than my

As I looked across the little park in my neighborhood this morning, the fog hung low on the horizon. As I paused to survey the scene, I was aware that a sense of peace and calm was invoked by the mysterious landscape. All seemed quiet. All seemed to take a pause to breathe deeply at the beginning of the new day. Then, out of the fog, there appeared a person walking their faithful companions. It was if they materialized, arriving mysteriously, from another place or time. It was if they were just briefly passing through my world. Sometimes, this is how my memories or bits and pieces of my dreams come to me. Unbidden and unplanned, they, too, seem to materialize from other places and other times to briefly pass through my world. Faces of those loved and lost and deeply missed sometimes rise out of the fog of my busyness. From time to time a vivid scene from childhood becomes so real that I could swear I hear familiar voices and smell the unique aroma of home long ago lost. There have been

On these drizzly, overcast mornings that carry a touch of cool Fall air with the sunrise, I walk for a long while in the dark. I miss opportunities for pictures during the first couple of miles of my journey, and I worry that the remaining miles might hold nothing that catches my eye or my imagination. So far, so good. It seems that somehow, someway, something pops up every day. This morning, as it slowly grew light, I saw these mushroom/fungi/ whatever it is that grows after it rains type of thing. They are on the ground. Their color is muted and bland. Unless one is looking at their feet, I imagine they would go unnoticed for their entire life span. I doubt anyone would plant them or build a garden around them. Yet, in their own way, they are interesting. And I imagine I will now look for them each morning going forward. It is easy to fall into the shortsighted habit of only seeing the bright and flashy as we walk through our life and the diversity of creation. The brilliantly colore

Everyday I pass this little electric car, safe and snug in its driveway. It is always plugged in, getting recharged so it is ready to go wherever life calls. I wonder if it starts the day by taking little ones to school. Or maybe it is making a commute to Dallas each morning. This little car could spend its miles delivering meals or giving rides to the doctor. The sky is the limit when you are recharged and ready to go. I think, on every walk, how I wish I could just plug in overnight and be fully charged and ready to go upon awakening, starting full speed ahead every morning. Life would be so much easier. No concern over being able to fall asleep quickly. No worries about being able to find restful, restorative sleep. No more anxiety from tossing and turning over the burdens of the day. It seems to me that one of the important things in life is to discover what recharges our mind and soul. We need to know what it is that feeds us. Time alone? Time with those we love and who love us? A

Nothing like walking on a dreary, overcast morning and finding an explosion of purple. This flowering bush was green the last time I passed. Today, it is crazy loud and beautiful. What an unexpected explosion of color! I like color. The people in my life give me a lot of grief over my love of color. Between Memorial Day and Labor Day, I wear seersucker suits. I have a number of colors: red, blue, grey, tan, green and purple. As a large person, I am reminded from time to time when I wear color, “that is a lot of red” or “that is a lot of purple”. But, seriously, can you have too much color? Creation is alive with infinite shades of color. The sky. The sunrise and sunset. The rainbow. The human race. The countless colors of flowers and ever-changing greens of the leaves. In that strange book of the Bible called The Revelation, the description of the beauty of the heavenly city is a portrait done in blazing color. There are rainbows and sapphires and emeralds. There is gold and pearl and

Ever since the homeowners hung this swing in their majestic oak, I have had a small degree of regret that my walks are always much too early to allow me to catch the parents playing with the little one who inspired the swing. I imagine the loving smiles of mom or dad. I can almost hear the innocent giggles of the little one as they feel both the freedom of flying and the total adoration of their parents. I can’t imagine anything but happiness at this spot as I pass every day. It makes me smile. If only life could remain so basic and simple. If only we could imagine life to be so kind and safe. If only everyone grew up surrounded by such love as I imagine to live in that little house and between that little family. If only. If only. But I think that sometimes we fail to appreciate the power of our imagining. We can’t keep life simple and basic in a complex, changing world by imagining, but we can imagine how we might live simply and remain free from the materialism that seeks to own us.

This day brought a most unique sunrise. It was very hazy, so even though the sun was a blazing orange, it was muted just enough to change the vision from fiery sun to hot air balloon. I was stopped in my tracks by the sight, confused. I kept trying to determine if I was walking East into the sunrise, or if this was the moon’s last reflective gasp as it it faded in the face of the greater light. But, indeed, it was what it was; an unusual and beautiful version of the rising sun. I found myself reflecting on the people in my life whom I have suddenly, for just a moment, seen in a different light. My laughing, gentle mother who, in her last days, showed a strength and courage far beyond my own. My strict and somber father, who joyfully served and gave to his neighbor in a time of need. An acquaintance who emerged as a friend in a hard time. The person who, out of the blue, writes a word of encouragement that arrives old school in the mail, exactly when you need it the most. Like the sunr

  I have watched this little tree try to make it since I began my walks the Spring. The sprinklers run. The grass is mowed and edged around its spot. During the height of the summer heat, the homeowner lovingly constructed this shelter to protect the vulnerable sapling from the blazing sun. At this point, in spite of all the work and care I have witnessed, I am beginning to come to the conclusion that this one won’t make it. But I admire that these folks are not giving up. They believe that this little sapling will become a tree, though delayed and beleaguered in its growth. They believe. Wouldn’t it would be wonderful to know such a place of shelter in our life? Wouldn’t it be life-changing to know such nurture and care? Wouldn’t it be a gift to know that those around us believe in us so completely? For some, that place is home. For others, the church or religious community. We can have a special friendship that brings these gifts to our life. School might be that place for a child.

  As I have walked my way through this pandemic, I have become acutely aware of how much life has changed in the neighborhood during these six months. All the remodeling of homes. All the new landscaping. All the old furniture replaced with new. All the people working at home. All the people walking. All the masks and thoughtfulness when paths cross. Then, today, I stumble upon this wonderful scene. These neighbors have decided that their yard will be socially distanced on an ongoing basis. Every chair has its place and space. This yard is ready at any moment to host a friendly conversation between neighbors. I don’t know the names or faces, I have never seen these neighbors. But it is obvious that the last conversation here was between a unit of three, a unit of two and two persons on their own. I’d like to think that they will be back tonight, everything is set up and ready. All that is needed is too add people. I couldn’t help but reflect on how important it is to live life prepare

  I don’t know how you would see it in the early moments of sunrise, but to me this front porch looks like a rocket ready to launch. This is the second time in my walks I have experienced such a moment. I can feel the energy waiting to be released In the three toys. I can see in my mind adults sitting in those wonderful rockers, trying to have a conversation while keeping a watchful eye on their young charges. I don’t imagine that there will be much rocking and relaxing in the course of this family’s outside time. Duty demands all stay alert. When I was growing up, I loved to hunt and fish. My favorite part of these outdoor activities was the early start time. I loved beginning in the dark, getting into place, and settling into the silence that always filled that moment of transition from night to day, from darkness to light. It was, at times, as if you could feel the earth turn on its axis. I liked to imagine, feeling small and so totally alone, that the universe itself was warming up

  I discovered this unusual scene on a morning following a heavy downpour. The lawns along this street had apparently been mowed just before the rains came. As the fallen rain raced downhill toward the street, it gathered into rivers that raced down the sidewalk. When the rains subsided and the sun rose, what remained were these beautiful green designs the length of the block. The grass clippings washed from the lawns had ridden the waters, then settled wherever they were when the rain drained away. What a serendipity that they painted my way so uniquely. The grass clippings would have soon dried up and blown away. After all, they were just the leftovers from a hard, hot day of yard work. The rain was a surprise, a deluge that, no doubt, ruined many a plan for the families along the street. But together they created a gift for all who would pass this way. Sometimes life unfolds in this manner. Two seemingly unrelated things end up together and create something surprisingly beautiful. W

This was the morning when Fall arrived, if only for two days. It was a wonderful sunrise, riding on a cool breeze, bringing a different light and a different feel to the morning. It was a glorious harbinger of change. Fall and winter have always been my favorite seasons. I’m certain that it comes from having been raised among the beautiful colors of changing leaves in my childhood home in Arkansas. I enjoy the cold weather and the long nights. I also enjoy the way these seasons mark the passing of time. With the coming of the Fall was football and sweaters and church hayrides. This season meant that school was back after a long hot summer. The holidays were on the horizon and soon, perhaps, a snow day or two. There was much for which to look forward when the season changed from summer to Fall. But, somewhere along the years of life, change began to be less exciting. Instead of seeing the possibilities, all focus turns to to responsibility alone. Another Fall just comes to mean we are

I felt a surge of excitement when I came upon this treasure one morning. It was as if I stumbled upon the Fountain of Youth or the headwaters of the Nile. Here before me was the unspoiled source of the sidewalk art I so enjoyed over my daily walks this past Spring. The colors of the chalk are varied, bright and fresh, ready to be used by the artist to brighten the world a bit. What might this chalk become? The possibilities are endless. It is amazing that beautiful things often begin so simply. A clean sidewalk and a piece of chalk. A blank canvas and paint. A pristine sheet of paper and a poet’s heart. Staff paper and a composer’s ability to notate what they hear in their head. Freshly tended soil and fragile flowers. Silence and loving words. Part of the mystery and adventure of life is that we can never be sure which simple thing we stumble upon just might be the start of something beautiful for us. Each day holds such possibilities. The new people we meet. The new experience we enc

  I have to admit, there are few things more beautiful to me than a freshly mowed lawn. Though I have felt this way since I was a boy doing my chores, I think the sentiment lingers because I have lived my life in a vocation that has no clear moments of starting or stopping. All I do seems to run together in one joyful, unbroken stream of doing. I’m not complaining; it has been a wonderful adventure, this strange life of mine. But I do occasionally like a task that, when finished, allows me the chance to stand back and admire my handiwork. This morning I took a picture of my back yard, all thick and manicured and green. It made all the hot work of mowing and edging worth it, to see this soft carpet in the morning sun. It struck me how, just a few years ago when we purchased this house, there was no lawn at all. A few spots of unhealthy grass were still hanging on during that cold February, but mostly it was just random weeds awaiting the Spring. But then the ground began to be watered a

One of the things I have found interesting as I walk this daily course is how something I pass time and time again can suddenly capture my attention. I suppose I have seen it before, but I haven’t REALLY seen it. Or, perhaps more accurately, I do not see the uniqueness or the beauty or the majesty in it. Then one day, I do. It might be that the light strikes it differently. Or, it may be something going on inside of me that gives me clearer vision. Of course, maybe I am just paying attention. Anyway, and for whatever reason, those moments are pleasant to me on a deep level. On this day I saw, as if for the first time, the water tower on the edge of the neighborhood. It is nothing special, strictly utilitarian in design and function. There is no unusual paint job or bright colors. It stands in the transition zone between the residential blocks and the commercial area that borders Central Expressway. It is huge, but can easily be missed. I think the striking, dramatic skies helped, givin

For about the past month, each morning, at this same corner, I am greeted by this lone bumble bee. It seems to be just hanging out. It is not on the way to anywhere else, it just buzzes within a few feet of the sign. It doesn’t mind having its picture made, I click a few each day. I wonder if it might be the lookout for some other bees, or maybe the Uber is just running late. Whatever is going on, this is one faithful bee. Rain or shine, there it buzzes. I like things I can count on. Some of those things are practical and utilitarian. A truck that always starts. My mail being delivered. Lights when the switch is flipped. Knowing Jeopardy will be recorded and waiting when I get home from work each night. I try to be mindful and grateful for these things on which I count. Some other things I count on are of a quite different sort altogether. I count on the ideals and values upon which I live my life, such as faith, hope, love, freedom and equality. I count on the people whom I trust and

I woke up to a wonderful surprise today. As I came out of my garage for my walk, I saw the back of these signs. Whenever I have seen these displays in the neighborhood they have been for a birthday. My first thought was that someone got the address wrong, and that some family was going to be really disappointed when they take their little one outside and find an empty lawn. Imagine my surprise as I walked around to the front of the signs and read these sweet words. What a wonderful way to start a wonderful Sunday! Mia, you made my day. It is a wonderful thing to know that people think of you and love you. I am truly humbled and grateful for this gift.  

After the heavy and frequent rains of these past few days, the sunrise broke upon a world turned green again. The dry, brittle grass was gone, replaced once more with a carpet of lush green. Tree limbs still drip with heavy drops. The creek is running fast and creatures of all shapes and sizes are moving about with renewed vim and vigor. The cooler temperatures have brought many familiar faces back to the early morning streets. It feels like a new beginning. It feels like a fresh start. Nature is good with fresh starts. The inevitable Spring after the long haul of winter. The clear skies that follow the most violent of storms. Germinating seeds pushing through the freshly plowed soil. The constant coming of the sunrise into an ever-changing, ever-challenging world. Creation lives and adapts and endures across the countless years of time through the gift of new beginnings and fresh starts. It is easy to forget that we, too, are a part of that creation. In the creation stories of my reli

There was no walk this morning. The weather won the day. The thunder rolled and the lightning flashed throughout the night, and to my surprise, the rain hung on too far into the morning to allow my walk. I was very disappointed to break my routine, but such days have been few and far between over these past five months or so. It helps that I have always loved rainy weather. For starters, I deeply love temperatures below 100 degrees. I love the cool breeze that carries the rain. I love the sound of the big, heavy summer drops of rain on roof and window. I love the way the light changes with the arrival of the cold front. All seem to beckon one to slow down, to read a good book, to hit the snooze and roll over and steal a few minutes back from the relentless race of time that begins anew each day. Rainy days are wonderful gifts in the midst of the miserable Texas heat. Even for those of us who live by strict routine, the occasional unplanned change is good for the soul. As disconcerting

I have documented my interest with the countless pieces of random items I find on my morning walks around the neighborhood. It is always fascinating to me what ends up at the curb, but it is equally interesting how the items are staged. I have seen chairs placed on exact, even lines in relation to one another. Books neatly stacked. Boots polished and lined up evenly. Lamps standing up straight and bikes parked as if the rider just stepped inside for a moment. This cabinet was placed just so, at a parallel with the sidewalk behind and the street in front. It was clean, well cared for and sturdy. In fact, it looked as if any moment might bring someone with an armful of books, a few pieces of glassware and perhaps a picture from a recent trip - all ready to be placed into the shelves to tell a little of the story of the owner. It is interesting, the things that reveal who we are to others. A glance at our bookshelves betrays our interests. The photographs that are found in our personal sp

In my little neighborhood, Monday brings the city trucks around to pick up the trash and recycling. People begin putting their bags of trash in the alley on Sunday. The rules are specific and are to be strictly obeyed. If successfully navigated, come Monday evening all find themselves trash free. The alley is clean and straight and ready to begin a new week with a clean slate. As I cross alley after alley on my daily walk, I see all the bags set out and am reminded how much trash we accumulate from week to week. It is astounding. This trash takes many forms, but the common denominator is clear: we set out for pickup that which we no longer need, or want, in our home. As I made my way through the neighborhood I began to realize that each week our lives, as well as our homes, accumulate a varying amount of stuff that we need to be aware of and to which we need to be attentive. There are attitudes and habits in our lives to be set aside and given up if we are to grow and know joy in our