a tale of two realities

"It Was the Best of Times, It Was the Worst of Times..."

The first paragraph in Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities, words of genius, and it sounds a bit familiar:

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,

It was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness,

It was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity,

It was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness,

It was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair,

We had everything before us, we had nothing before us,

We were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way…”

Reading these words is like looking into a prism, a many-faceted crystal, or playing with a Rubik’s Cube. So much is here to meditate upon regarding our own times. Light and Dark are rapidly separating. This could be a Lenten exercise, if paired with self-examination. Where am I in this story?

How about this one?…

From William Butler Yeats’ poem, “The Second Coming:”

“Turning and turning in the widening gyre,
The falcon cannot hear the falconer,
Things fall apart, the centre cannot hold,
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed,
And everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned,
The best lack all conviction,
While the worst are full of passionate intensity.”

A Tale of Two Realities

New York City. Lots of traffic. Even now. One would think there might be at least one decent rest-stop on your way around the city, or at least, by the time you get to New Jersey, somewhere on Route 80. Nope. Tons of land where it would be very easy to place a rest-stop. With all the minutiae the states concern themselves with, has no one thought of building at least one rest-stop around the city? I gave birth some twenty-something years ago to an almost 10-pound baby. Quite frankly, my body has never been the same. Do you see where this is going? (Don’t drink Snapple when you’re pregnant and don’t eat the 12 slices of whole wheat bread per day that they tell you to.)

Earlier this week, my husband and I were on our way to visit that same baby, traveling from Long Island to New Jersey. We finally got to The Home Depot shopping center off Route 80. I have gone to the Dunkin there, but I assumed the restroom would not be open, since the Dunkins around us have kept them closed. The only other place was The Home Depot. I came upon my first encounter with the “long line to get in” situation that I have seen pictures of….a grotesque zombie apocalypse of masks, blocked-off entrances and security guards. I thought, “I’m a middle-aged lady who’s been sitting in traffic forever-surely they would have no problem with me using their facilities.” So I walked up to the guard and explained my situation. He said, “Let me ask.” He came back. “No.” I was stunned and expressed my displeasure. I checked over at Dunkin and their restroom was open. My son is going to be getting doughnuts every time we visit. He would rather have doughnuts than duct tape or siliconized acrylic sealant.

Do I really have to state the obvious? We are losing our humanity. This should concern all of us. Reminds me of Our Lord’s words:

"For if in the green wood they do these things, what shall be done in the dry?"

Luke 23:31

Almost as soon as we got through the door with the box of doughnuts, my son said, “Want to go hiking now?” He has been making good use of his time off by hiking and gardening, much to prepper-Mommy’s pleasure. He found a large wooded area nearby while geocaching, and has been exploring all the trails. He was very excited about showing us a breathtaking ravine he found. I have not hiked in years and was already a bit tired from a poor night’s sleep, but I did not want to disappoint him. It was a long-shot, but I was going to give it my best effort.

As we approached the trail, I felt like Prepper Wonder Woman, with my hiking boots, olive-green pants with tons of pockets, wad of tissues, bug spray and mini first-aid kit. It was pure adrenaline from that point on. The world disappeared behind us as the sounds of birds and running water surrounded us. I felt free, able to breath without a mask, able to walk the path of a true human being, without feeling like a criminal. It was not a quick or easy hike. First, down a rocky hill, then we had a choice between crossing a muddy creek or walking on top of a huge mysterious pipeline. I chose the muddy creek that looked like quicksand. It proved to be a cinch. I felt over-confidence and arrogance wafting through me (not very subtle foreshadowing) as I watched my poor husband and child perilously walking atop the big pipe. Then it was quite a ways down another trail to the ravine. Suddenly, a magnificent vista of hills, trees, rocks, water and frogs appeared. It was a truly magical moment with my husband and son.

I eagerly ran down to the water and splashed my hands around in it. I felt pricks go through my thin pants and suddenly my arms and legs were all itchy. So much for Prepper Wonder Woman. My first thought was, “I’m in the middle of nowhere-what if I have a severe reaction?” I calmed down and hoped for the best. I told my son to take a picture of the plant so we could identify it when we got back (actually, we should have done it right there, with the phone). It was time to go back anyway, so we headed back and within a few minutes, the itching subsided. (I still haven’t gotten around to identifying the plant-but I should-this is how you learn as a prepper!} I barely made it back-the downwards hill at the start was now an upwards hill. At the least, the experience gave me a sense of empowerment and accomplishment. At best, a pivotal moment in my life at a pivotal moment for humanity. The choice between two realities.

I see the rest of my life as a journey back to those woods.