Monday, June 14, 2021

Life between the Lakes, Part 54


I have come to the universal conclusion that too often in our lives, it is worry that holds us back. At 55, life flies past me so fast it is hard to notice a lot of things outside of my immediate environment and I will admit that it is by choice. I have accepted things I once resisted. With this new realization I went on an unscripted adventure from Deer Park.

I drove my Jeep down a two-track, invisible to my GPS, until a grove of trees brought an end to the non-existent road I was on. I got out and started walking. I wanted to find a place where I could sit and think about nothing.

As I walked, it didn’t take long before I had a crown of black flies around my head. I was on land that I became unsure about it as my feet sank deeper into the ground, so I rerouted my course. It wasn’t long before a strong south wind made its way through the forest and cleared out the flies. My journey reached an end when I found a body of water.

It was too big to be a pond but too small to be a lake. There was no confirmation of it on any map I’ve seen so I now call it my “Secret Lake” and will never divulge its whereabouts, even if bribed with pizza.

I would have removed my boots and waded into the water to soothe my feet but, as with every body of water I encounter, I have a fear of losing the bottom, or finding it.

I set out on a quest to think about nothing but ended up thinking about everything and this is what I have determined:

So much of life is noise, most of it of our own making. And much of modern humanity worries what will happen if they take a risk to see for themselves where the noise stops.

The Upper Peninsula has been a place for me to plum the thoughts and ideas that I have always wanted to explore. Moving here was a raw leap of faith moment for me. And finding pieces of God’s surprises and his revealing secrets are a bonus.