Take A Deep Breath

Tomorrow morning I want you to walk out your door, close your eyes, take a deep breath, exhale and open your eyes.

Ask yourself if you are looking at the same world as just a few seconds before.

The answer is No.

Our world is moving at such a fast pace that words like “streaming”, “trending” and “tweeting” are used just to describe the incessant flow of incomplete news and media releases.  Words are invented just to keep up with trying to keep up.

At some point we reach a nerve numbing level from this barrage of information at which we just simply shutdown …we’re in information overload.  Time to take a break.

Put down the cellphone, turn off the television, shutdown the computer…and head for the woods or your favorite fishing hole.  Time to reboot your hard drive.

It is that moment when we first step into the woods, make that first cast onto the water, the wind blows through your hair or feel the warmth of the sun on your face, that we feel the embrace of Mother Nature, wrapping her arms around us, making it a better world.

Mother Nature moves at a pace of the seasons, slowly evolving from one to the other on the notes of meadowlarks; each season with its own sights and sounds awakening the senses, breathing life back into us all.

The sound of gobbling turkeys in the Spring, bobwhite quail whistling on a Summer day, the sound of migrating geese on a Fall afternoon and the still quiet after a Winter snow have almost primeval effects.

There is a great White Oak that I pass on a regular basis.  I often wonder what that monolith of the forest has seen and endured in its lifetime and the years to come.  If it could talk would it tell us of the wars long pass, planes in the sky or all the technology that travels on the wind that blows through its canopy?

I think it would probably tell us of great storms, drought, times of plenty and point out that it has survived for over 100 years without technology.

One thing for sure about that mighty Oak…the only “streaming” it will experience will flow alongside its trunk and the only “tweets” will be from the songbirds perched high on its branches.

Mark Nethery
League of Kentucky Sportsmen