When this old world starts a getting me down
And people are just too much for me to face
I’m gonna climb way up to the top of the stairs
And all my cares just drift right into space
James Taylor is definitely a Yankee. I like him a lot and I love his music, but you have to admit—he’s a Yankee. Why else would you write a song about getting away from it all by going up on the roof? What is that? I saw him in concert this weekend and learned that he’s from Massachusetts. Well, of course he is.
Strangely enough, I love Boston and have visited several times. One thing that struck me is that if you look up, you’re bound to see rooftop gardens, complete with potted plants and trees and patio furniture. And for apartment or office dwellers, that makes sense, as it may be just about the only green space available to them. The point is that everybody, everywhere, could use a place to escape and be alone. It’s just a bit more difficult for that to occur in the middle of a city, I suppose.
On the roof it’s peaceful as can be
And there the world below don’t bother me
Geography aside, you really can’t put a price on those quiet spaces and downtime. I think we just don’t stop there often enough. An older student once recounted to me a science class experiment that required that she spend 10 minutes in the same outdoor spot at the same time each day for several weeks. The goal was just to reflect on that place and watch it evolve with the season. That kind of forced slowdown time might not be for everybody, but it’s intriguing. Just think what you could see and hear in the spring. Bulbs poking up from a softening earth, the first mockingbird trill, geese in formation flying north, tree frogs waking up, the sun shifting to a warmer state with longer days, green onions in a yard that will soon need mowing, and on and on. I dare you to try it.
And you can think in those quiet spaces. And you can settle a few major decisions and talk with God and leave in a better frame of mind. And you can find peace. During my time off last summer, I set up one of those low-slung beach chairs just outside the back of the barn each morning. While the horses finished off their hay and the cats lazed around, I just kicked back and read or snoozed or let one of the 7 cats have a little lap time. There’s nothing like a sleeping cat to teach you how to relax.
And at night the stars, they put on a show for free
And darlin’ you can share it all with me
I’m sure you can see a few stars in the city, but only those that are extra bright or extra close or however that works. But outside the city lights, stars are stunning. I’m not a winter person, but on the occasions when I’m forced to be outside in January at night, wow… That’s when I commit to pulling out an astronomy book and learning how to find constellations. Which, of course, I never do. And when you look up at the night sky, well that’s when you are blown away once again at the enormity of the universe and really how very little we actually understand about it. And all those unanswered questions come rushing in, like “If the universe has no end, then where does it end?” which actually makes absolutely no sense and illustrates my point of how little we understand. And that’s definitely where faith comes in.
But just stopping; stopping on a dark night that is lit only by a bazillion stars and looking up, begs for a quiet time–wherever on this planet you find yourself. “The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep,” was Robert Frost’s sentiment a few decades ago. We all have miles to go before we sleep, but they’ll be waiting for us when we get there. And we’ll be none the worse for just soaking in those few moments of quiet and beauty. And looking for the Big Dipper, which is a pretty important endeavor.
Right smack dab in the middle of town
I’ve found a paradise just about trouble proof
And if this old world starts a getting you down
Well there’s room enough for two up on my roof
Your roof can be anywhere, but just make sure you find it. And it really won’t hurt to share it with someone else occasionally. We’re not meant to spend too much time alone, but neither are we meant to be so distracted that we forget to spend time just reflecting on anything worth reflecting on. My roof is currently the little beach chair behind the barn, but it rotates to a pier on Shoals Creek, or sometimes it’s the driver’s seat as I travel those miles I have to go before I sleep.
And on the roof, the only place I know
Where you just have to wish to make it so…
