Stumbling over ruins along the way

Lately, I've been feeling a bit like a flame in the wind. Furious and turning against the forces that push me in every direction. It's so hard for me to focus on an intention when I find myself in this place. So I've continually tried to bring myself back to my foundation by reminding myself how far I've come... Though I find myself in a storm, I'm not a fire that can easily be put out. I can only grow stronger by taking on the strength of the very forces that seem to work against me.

Since the day I got my driver's license I've had a habit of driving around aimlessly with the radio cranked up to relieve stress. In Colorado, this was wonderfully easy to do as there was never a lack of scenic roads that meandered into a beautiful wilderness. Here, in the concrete wasteland that is DC, I've found it much harder to get the same pleasure out of driving. But when I'm called to drive, I drive, and today I was definitely called to drive!

I got on a random highway and decided to point myself in a direction I'd never gone before. I found myself in Maryland, and felt at ease just taking left and right turns as I felt them come to me. I'm so glad I trusted my intuition on all those turns because they led me straight to Fort Washington, a fort that was originally built over 200 years ago to defend DC from enemies approaching on the Potomac river.

I pulled up to the entrance and prepared to pull out my wallet to pay the national park fee, but as I approached I saw that the gates were lifted and a small sign hung saying that the park was free in the off-season. So I pulled through, and as my eyes scanned the fort and numerous shuttered, crumbling colonial buildings I felt exhilarated to discover that I was the only soul in sight. In fact, I was so exhilarated that I decided to park my car in the middle of the road. Right in front a beautifully dilapidated mansion.

Well, a modest mansion. But I was completely enchanted. I felt like I was in wonderland having this whole park of historic buildings to myself. I was practically skipping around this building as I greedily took pictures from every cool angle I could manage.

As I came around the back of the house I saw an odd little tree that had completely engulfed an old cement block. As I traipsed on over to snap some clever shots I had absolutely no idea that I was being closely watched. I was most definitely not the only soul amongst the overgrown ruins. And when I turned to face the house again my heart lept into my throat as I found myself staring into two pairs of black shiny eyes. Two giant buzzards, so black they melted with the shadows of the house behind them, were curiously guarding me as I snapped my photos. I grasped my chest as if to keep myself from breathing. I had been incredibly close to them without realizing it -- so distracted by own excitement to even notice the two open windows in the mansion where the birds were housing themselves.

I must have stood stock-still, staring into those eyes for about 5 minutes, before I finally became disenchanted by their spell. There was something about them that seemed incredibly familiar, almost friendly to me. It was one of those moments that pulled up so many mixed emotions at once that it's difficult now to even describe the scene properly. I had never seen buzzards before. Only from old cartoons had I gained any impression of them. (That being that they usually hung around in mean gangs and made fun of poor elephants like Dumbo...) But these birds seemed oddly calm, majestic and quiet against what looked like a horror scene. As the wind picked up and pulled my hair towards the sky I felt awakened, seen, and profound loneliness all at the same time.

I shook my own feathers as I realized how long I'd just left my car stranded in the middle of a road while I'd been making eyes with buzzards. (How often do you get to write a sentence like that?) So I ran back and was relieved to discover that, as far as I could tell, I was still the only human life in this place.

I made my way through the other abandoned places. One of which had clearly been a popular spot for debauchery as beer cans, condoms and freshly broken glass littered the once upstanding Army institution. It made me think about abandonment. About how those who feel abandoned are always the ones most drawn to these kinds of ruins. As if being inside these broken places were a physical manifestation of their inner world.

It wasn't until I made it to the fort itself that I encountered another human. A park ranger, a smiley little woman, who stood outside the gate as the fort's lone protector. (A far cry from the staff in centuries past.) I asked if it was okay to go inside and she encouraged me with exuberance. The fort was amazingly cool. But as usual, I had the most fun exploring the little nooks where people had actually been living.

Ruins are the greatest physical reminder of far we've come, of the powers of time, and of the resilience of the human heart. The perspective I gain from every encounter with abandoned places reminds me that there are parts of me, almost like scars, that are a lot like this old fortress. Still there yet no longer necessary for historic battles of the past. But useful in a new way, ready to be integrated into a wise foundation for future lessons.

Sometimes I have no idea if I'm doing the right thing or just holding onto a beautiful, yet irrelevant, beacon of the past. For now I'm just going to keep being that flame in the wind... Seeing it more as a dance and not a struggle.