“I believe in the forest, and in the meadow, and in the night in which the corn grows.” — Thoreau in his essay on walking
Another quietly interesting roadside attraction.
In one of his frequent New York Times essays, Pico Iyer wrote:
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“The divine oneness of life is within and all around us. Sometimes walking alone in nature we can feel its heartbeat and its wonder, and our steps become steps of remembrance. The simple practice of “walking in a sacred manner”—-in which with every step we take we feel the connection with the sacred Earth—-is one way to reconnect with the living spirit of the Earth.”
That’s my kind of walking.
I take long, meditative walks that can be taken anywhere you are. Such walks are prayers in themselves.
But of course sometimes in spiritual walks to nowhere in particular down the kazillions of rocky, white roads and trails of western Belize I pause to snap a postcard.
Walked a couple of miles down a bush road Monday evening and heard and saw lots of interesting birds without seeing another human until finally coming upon a nice little farm where this farmer was in his fields with a Central American Power Tool (machete).
School boys from Guatemala who had been in Belize for a school event stopped by the Mopan Riverside on the way home.
Cooling down on a Sunday afternoon.
A night church–services every night.
Martin, who said he’s “de-thatching” the old gazebo to build a bigger gazebo at his home in Cristo Rey Village.
At the Cahal Pech Mayan ruins, some of the most ancient in Belize.
A little bit of Texas in Belize–an orange grove farmer from Canada (or maybe England, the watchman who stopped me told me) bought a bunch of farm equipment in Waco that he had hauled to his place with this trailer he bought in Waco, years ago. You never know what you’ll stumble upon walking in “The Wild West,” as they call western Belize.
Until next time, happy trails and adios from me and my friend who lives behind the post office where he raises turkeys for Christmas, in the Village of Black Man Eddy. And yes, there’s an actual village on the Western Highway named “Black Man Eddy,” for a black man named Eddy who died in legendary and not-so-good way. But that’s a story for another day.
Thanks for sharing your sights along the road that day. I felt like I was really there! LOVELY.
Cool. Glad you liked it!
Nothing beats getting out and being able to walk through God’s creation. Wonderful pictures of beautiful scenery, Reverend.