Walks with Barry - Profoundly Simple: A Walk Reframed

I made the decision at the beginning of this time of quarantine and closed gyms that I would walk the exact same 10,000+ step route through my neighborhood each day. If time, weather and body permitted, I would add to the walk, but I would always, every day, stay this set course. I chose this approach, not just because of my deep need to stick to set routines, but because I wanted to observe the changes that might come from day to day and week to week around the neighborhood. Little did any of us know that “day to day” and “week to week” would turn into month to month.  Today, as I made the second to last turn on my set course, I literally stopped and stared for a few moments. There, cascading over the top of an 8 ft cedar face, were flowering branches of a tree weighed down with magnificent purple beauty. The blossoms seemed to glow against the overcast and darkening skies. It was truly spectacular. The tree was in full bloom, which meant that this was no overnight phenomenon. I h...

Being a book person and avid reader, I love the fact that, if one walks the streets in this neighborhood, one will randomly find themselves at a Little Free Library.  In the little bestseller, “All I Ever Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten”, Robert Fulghum listed the practice of sharing as one of the foundational attitudes of a healthy, productive and purposeful life. As neighbors share their books, I like to pause from time to time to check out the titles. I then find myself trying to match the books to the people I see. “I bet that’s the young family trying to diagnose childhood illnesses.” “That person looks like a scrapbooker to me.” “That couple could easily be the bikers on the block.” And on and on it goes. A pointless exercise for sure, but in a strange way it makes me want to know my neighbors. They have shared a glimpse into who they are by the sharing of their books. C.S. Lewis wrote, “We read to know that we are not alone.” As I have grown older, I know this is tr...

This is among the first sights I behold each day as I walk. It is a bit unusual in regard to the reason it catches my eye. I am usually drawn to things along the way that are new or out of place or unusual. This corner draws me in for different reasons all together.  If I’m making this turn, it means that I am well and once again out and about my business, and I am grateful. This scene is all about the flowers, and I am always interested in flowers, anywhere, anytime. But it is the relationship of the two plants, the rose bush and the yucca, that gives me pause. It seems that once upon a time, these two were planted an appropriate distance apart in their bed at the corner. But over time, the roses did what roses long to do; they rambled and spread and took over more and more space. And the yucca did what it longs to do; to stretch and stretch and reach for the sun.  Through the thorns and the shadows it pushes, and it wins the day. It still somehow finds its way to the the lig...

Obviously, one of the things I enjoy the most about walking my neighborhood is that I never know what I might find along the way. I have taken pictures of all kinds of random objects and interesting scenes, and each block of sidewalk is full of possibilities. On this day, an old discarded wooden window captured my attention.  I first wondered from whence it came. It did not match the windows of the house in front of which it lay, and appeared that it never had. Then there was the matter of the color. And the fact that two-thirds of the lights were missing. How did it get here? What purpose had it been serving, being in such disrepair? I was surprised at how intrigued I was by this lonely, discarded window. I suppose I am simply driven to know the story behind the things I see and the people I meet. Anthony T. Hincks wrote, “Outside the window is a world that beckons and inside the window is a world for which the outside yearns.” I wonder about the worlds this old window has seen. I...

On this day the streets of my little neighborhood look, I would venture to say, much like yours. And I don’t mean that they are similarly wet from the rains or sleepy with a holiday quiet. This national Memorial Day has brought out the flags. Big flags and little flags and every size flag in-between.  It is striking, these holidays that bring out the flags. As I walk from day to day, I notice the political signs in the yards and the stickers on the cars. These streets contain a little slice of the stark political divide in these strange times. But equally striking is that those from every perspective fly the same flag this day. This, in itself, gives me a glimpse of hope. Perhaps these flags, as they fly in our yards, really will remind us all of whom we claim to be as a people. Perhaps they really will draw from us a reverence for those who have the paid the ultimate price for a dream bigger than themselves. Perhaps these flags will help us see beyond our particular, individual bi...

As I approach this house each day on my walk, I have a sense of anticipation and alertness. This yard seems to always be full of bicycles. There is a basketball goal on the curb. There is an apparatus hanging in the tree where one can do pull ups and other torturous activities. There is a low net that moves around from place to place on the lawn. When this yard is alive with motion and activity I cross the street early and enjoy the show from a safe distance. But I noticed that even on the days when I find the yard quiet, still and childless, it seems to be pulsing with life. Like a trap set with a too-tight spring or a bungee chord stretched to its limit, I sense that any moment could be the moment when all the energy will be released and the day will be on, full speed ahead! These days have left quiet and still many of the spaces where our activities have usually taken place. Undriven cars. Quiet restaurants. Silent shopping centers. Dark church buildings. Still parks. Yet, like this...

My neighborhood is very neat and orderly. The sidewalks straight. The lawns mowed. The driveways edged. The trees trimmed. The landscaping beautiful. The rules followed. We are scrubbed, starched and buttoned down. Well, almost. This neighbor decided to break free, to exercise their individuality. In the space between the sidewalk and the street, they scraped away the meticulously manicured sod and tossed in a mix of wildflower seeds. In amazingly short order this little section of the yard was alive and wild with color. Though I passed this way day after day, I somehow never noticed. Until today. Most of us work very hard at keeping our lives neat and orderly, which is a good thing. We follow the rules and manage very well in our scrubbed, starched and buttoned down routines. But sometimes we forget to save a little space that allows something new and surprising to grow. A few minutes of unscheduled time for reflection. A special spot in our hectic day for prayer. Maybe a block of tim...