Softy, sadly, an autumn breeze stirs the leaves on the path that leads up to the house where an old friend once stayed.
When last I walked along this way tall pines grew all around. Underfoot the path, covered with a blanket of pine needles, was soft and giving and the fragrance of wood resin, filled the air.
Mainly in silence, my friend and I enjoyed walking this way together, just listening to the hiss of the breeze blowing through the trees, or the soothing call of a wood pigeon from high above. On the days when we did talk, our conversation was soft, kind and thoughtful. How I loved to listen to his wise soothing words that attempted to neither persuade, nor convince.
That soft voice so easily entered my soul, to reach those corners of my being, where the footsteps of mankind are rarely to be found. Today most of the forest is gone and the soft welcoming path has been replaced by a hard concrete pavement that jars at my ankles and disturbs my mood, but in the light autumn airs do I not hear the quiet whisper of that voice, I listened to so long ago?
Not for a moment
must you think our voices die
leaving no traces ;
truly more than what they are,
words are equal to our hearts.
Ryokan
Tr. Nobuyuki Yuasa
Autumn leaves scatter on the path: unassuming and simple, he lived a life at ease with himself, seeking neither wealth nor reputation. Nothing grand, he sought beauty in the woods that surrounded him, moonlit glades and the carpet of wild flowers that grew so easily in his small, comfortable, garden. Rarely contending with others, his was a forgiving way that calmed and uplifted those around him; this his way, a tranquil river of calm meandering unseen, through the hectic life of man.
And some Autumn photos . . . Thanks to Alfie for taking someone for a walk in the park !
