I trudge slowly up the dusty, rocky road. The steepness lasts only the first eighth mile. I pause to catch my breath. Two towering, ancient black walnut trees seem to guard this one-lane country road.
Looking out in all directions, I turn and begin to walk again toward the western horizon.
Even my camera cannot capture the grandeur, the distance and the awesome feeling inspired by the landscape before me. Below and beyond lie fields, green and brown, some plowed, some seeded and growing with winter wheat, and some untilled in the steep places. Gray-green mountains loom high and peaked in the far distance and hills nearer are rounded and fenced. Nothing moves in the stillness of the morning.
I remember something that my friend has told me. “I just need to be able to rest my eyes on the horizon,” she says.
I stop. I stand as still as I can in the cold. There is little need to pay attention to traffic for there is none.
I turn to look toward the east. In this direction, the view includes more of the human presence: houses, garages, working factories and other farm and business buildings. Down among these buildings, human beings move about as tiny specks.
From this hilltop, I look above the human creations toward the eastern horizon. The bluest of blue mountains rise up peacefully, ancient creations of a mighty Moving Power. Below are the scattered bumps of hills, the meandering valleys and paths of hard-surfaced roads.
I turn west and begin my morning walk again. I know that this walk of three miles is good for my health. The air is clear and clean. I open my mouth and great gulps of air flow naturally to the depths of my lungs. With muscles inside my body, I push air out while smiling to myself, for I am breathing as a baby does—without effort or control. Just doing what the Great Creator designed within this body of mine.
“ I just need to be able to rest my eyes on the horizon,” she says.
My friend tells me that it is restful to look up and outward. We can gain space and distance from the daily stuff of our days.
Resting our eyes on the horizons gives beauty and peace a chance to invade the heart. We are no longer hemmed in, but can give our bodies over to the naturalness of breathing. We can give ourselves over to the One in whom we really trust. Letting our eyes rise to the horizons can mean that, for a moment, we are no longer overwhelmed by clutter or by crowds. We are given the gift of being shown the wide openness of what may be beyond.
The path back along this country road reaches the downhill side. I breathe calmly and hold these horizons in my heart. For now.
Rockingham County native Elaine H. McGann is an ordained Brethren minister and a licensed clinical psychologist. She lives near Hinton.
