On Portals

There is no question.  Somewhere we lost our ability to really touch and taste our world.  Most of my food comes in packages that I peel away in my office that has no windows.  As I bite into my food, I realize that it has been injected with things that preserved it for the last two weeks.  How my spirit misses the chance to eat an apple still warm of branch life.

Men used to spend 14 hours a day in concert with trees, and field, and forest.  Now, I’m lucky if I can drive 4 hours to find good public woods with trees older than 60.  I come home from my meetings and enter into my house, which has been systematically enclosed from the elements.  I have never slept through the driving rain.

So, when I go to a place like an orchard, it is no wonder that something in me awakens. On an October afternoon, hundreds of shiny cars crowd the grassy gravel lot. They reflect the autumn sun like lasers to the eye.  The visitors line up to pay for fall crafts, apple cider, and a hay ride.

It is genius really.  The fields are open, so you wander among the wilderness and pick an apple or two and feel like Johnny Appleseed. You puncture its juicy skin and look over your shoulder.  You make sure the hay ride driver is far off, just in case it is against policy. Then you buy a dozen of them inside so you don’t feel so bad.

Then, after a crowded hour in the woods, you turn around, pick your pumpkin, and head to the register.  There you realize that they knew what you were doing all along. That’s the point.  They know that the general public longs for the bare wild, and they have created a portal of sorts here. Enter for a time and commune with the fruit of the earth.

Quite fantastic, and in the upcoming month, I plan to visit at least twice.  So should you. It will fill your life and office-cave with just a little more radiance this fall.

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2 thoughts on “On Portals”

  1. I simpathize… my office has a window, but the view is a sea of pavement. When did we allow ourselves to become so detached from nature?

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