I sometimes like to go for a lunchtime
walk at Ramapo
Valley County Reservation in Mahwah. It makes me think of what
Walden Pond must
have been like, except at Ramapo Reservation you have walking paths
worn from too many suburbanites walking their dogs and carrying the
poop around in bags. Some are even wearing flip-flops while they do this! This is why no one writes a book about a place
like Walden Pond or Ramapo Reservation anymore. You can't have your
mind ascend to literary heights when you are carrying, or surrounded
by people who are carrying, bags of dog doo-doo and wearing flip-flops. Besides that little
difference, Ramapo Reservation is probably quite similar to Walden
Pond. Well, then there's another thing I just thought of. Maybe the
signage that prohibits horses, guns, swimming, etc. is another
important difference. I think I'd like to take it back. Maybe it's
not like Walden Pond after all. Maybe the progress of civilization
from traversing amidst raw, pristine beauty to people walking around
listening to music on iPods or talking on cell phones in
semi-pristine beauty carrying dog poop in newspaper bags is not at
all like Thoreau's Walden. But then again, I just looked at
the web site about Walden Pond and it looks like they have a gift
shop there. So much for pristine beauty.
I’ve been a practicing Christian my entire adult life, and one would think that would result in a certain level of proficiency in certain practices such as what often occurs when one plays golf, tennis, or does various other activities on a regular basis. Prayer is not like this for me though. Prayer is like whack-a-mole. As soon as I knock down a mole that pops up--some sort of obstacle to my praying--another mole rises in its place. "Whack-a-mole" is exactly how I would describe my prayer life, a daily whacking away at things that prevent prayer.