Times Change...Or Do They?

I remember going to the lake when I was a child.  In fact, some of my earliest memories are of viewing the serene water with dense woods along the far shore.  It was beautiful.


Now, at age 60 (almost), I come to the same place, and see essentially the same thing.  But now, what I see is so very different.  Not that the difference is something all that tangible.  It is, in fact, still a tranquil lake bounded by a densely wooded area.  But what I see is different.


As I child, I saw nature in its purest form, viewed through the unfiltered eyes of innocent youth.  What I saw then was basically trees and water.  Now, I survey the same setting through the filter of 60 years of life.  What I now notice is the is that the trees look different, depending upon where they are.  Those in the more open areas have grown large and strong.  They have filled out evenly and are, by anybody's standards, "pretty".  The trees in the denser areas have had to struggle to survive. They are not as big, they are not as evenly filled out, they are not as "pretty".  I almost feel sorry for those trees because they haven't had the same chance as the trees in the open.


I also notice how many trees are dead.  They just couldn't make it through the storms and the competition for survival.  And there are no monuments to them.  They simply lay by the wayside and decay, all but forgotten.


I look at this vision of the lake and the woods and realize how it is in many ways exactly the same as I remember it, but in many ways it is completely different.  It all depends on the perspective one gets from the filter of life.  I suppose one could say that my new perspective is a sadder version than that of my youth.  There is no denying that there is an element of sadness when anything is viewed through the filter of 60 years of life, but one could also say that my new perspective is inspiring.  Through all the storms, the droughts, the fires, the lake and the forest still stand as majestic as ever.  They continue to win the battle.


An obvious question is, which perspective, or which view, is more beautiful?  The answer should be equally obvious; they are both the same.  My filter has changed, but things around me have not, at least not in a significant way.  The beauty I observed in my innocent youth is the same beauty I witness today.  I can choose to not see the beauty because of my filter.  Sixty years of life; pain, stress, anxiety, death; these have a way of hiding the beauty.  But in that same sixty years there has been joy, excitement, love, and tremendous growth.  My filter is not a physical one, like rose colored glasses.  It is one of pure emotion that does not effect what I see, but only how I see it.


I leave the lake and the forest today feeling a strong sense of peace.  After all, I am also part of nature.  I can choose to stand majestically even after all the storms of my life.