One late spring afternoon while I was out in the yard I heard someone singing at the top of his lungs with no accompaniment. The singer kept on key and sang with such gusto, having no obvious care about being overheard.The distinctive 'clop clop clop' of horse hooves drew my attention to the road and sure enough, thereby passed an Amish buggy. Making a mad dash for a camera, I barely caught this view before the driver was out of sight.
Over the years I have read inspirational novels about the Amish and I must in all honesty admit that the simpler way of life has a certain attraction. To be primarily concerned with clothing and feeding the family, tending the garden, cleaning the house, washing the laundry...
What would life be like without the distractions of too much stuff, too many superfluous activities? Without the constant awareness of pain, destruction, loss and strife all over the planet? Things that upset us, things about which we can do very little except pray.
Yes, sometimes our possessions own us (requiring upkeep, repair, dusting, protection) and the cares of the world bring stress and worry. Would any of us give that up voluntarily?
In my young adulthood I spent two wintry nights in a cabin-room on a small lake in the Adirondack Mountains. The room was furnished with a bed, a two-burner cook top, a small refrigerator, a desk, a chair, a lamp, two books, a small bathroom. I remember reading by lamplight and wishing I could continue such an uncomplicated, uncluttered existence. Two days later it was back to the usual.
Perhaps the best I can manage is to occasionally sort out and donate or dispose of unneeded items, reduce the number of hobbies I intend to pursue someday, and find the place and time to be still, and be grateful for what I do have.
Can anyone relate to this?
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