On Sunday I went hiking in the Jonathan Dickinson State Park near Jupiter, FL with my dearest friend, Ron (he really is not driving with his eyes closed - it is my great photography skills that can catch most people while blinking). The park is located at an old army base, Camp Murphy, established during the civil war for training of the wigwag flagmen and later used to train in communications and eventually even developing the first radar during the second World War. The park is beautiful and full of scrub pine, palmettos, turkey oaks and cypress pines, along with many other plants I cannot recall the names of. This little gem of a park is worth a gander as there are trails to walk, campsites, cabins, canoe rentals and if you have a mountain bike or horse, trails for those as well. The "big" thing in the park is Hobe Mountain, this "mountain" is an ancient sand dune that is the 2nd highest mountain in the state, an entire 86 feet above sea level. If this does not impress you, then the additional 27 feet up the observatory will! From the observatory tower you can see for miles in each direction, including the Atlantic ocean (of course it is on Highway 1, so you are not far from the Atlantic, but still it is a great view).
Ron and I decide to take a walk in the park on the sand trails to enjoy the nature around us. I marvel at the beauty that is on each side of our path and take pictures of flora and fauna as my friend concentrates on the sand beneath his bare feet. I steal glances over at his bare feet more than once and envy him. I wish I too was brave enough to remove my shoes and feel the earth under my feet. But I am too scared to walk the 5 or so miles we will be walking without covering on my soles.
Walking along the trail, he asks, "what lesson does this path teach you?" I think for a few moments and I wish I could say that some profound knowledge came forth, unfortunately I do not. My lesson is something along the lines of "though the path may be easy, there are still ups and downs along the way.." I then ask my friend what lesson the path teaches him. He tells me that his lesson has been accumulating over a long period of time and he has not yet reached the point of full understanding. He proceeds to delve into his thoughts about the earth and life.
Our discussion progresses and I take less pictures and start to observe the nature of my friend. Here is a man that I have known for 10 or so years. He quietly walks along the trail in his bare feet, his hands behind his back. Again, I admire him and his barefeet, I begin to have small regrets at not taking off my shoes, but continue to walk with my soles covered and observe.
Each in our own way walk the same trail yet as we complete our hike I realize the juxtapositions of our soles and souls. Mine: covered, protected, inside, at odds. His: open, unprotected, free, at peace. Again, I find myself wishing I could be brave and just take off my shoes, if only for a few moments. I am not as brave as I wish I were. I am not as brave as everyone thinks I am. Self-doubt enters my mind. I wonder how Ron's feet are feeling and ask him. He replies that they are doing fine except for his heel where he stepped on something a while back (near the first of the trail). I think about my protected feet, feeling nothing under them but the tension of the sand and vow to bare my sole and soul to feel more beneath them both.
Thank you Ron for the lesson along the path and for teaching me over the past 10 years what true bravery is all about. Namaste.
Jonathan Dickinson State Park Photos Here
Ron and I decide to take a walk in the park on the sand trails to enjoy the nature around us. I marvel at the beauty that is on each side of our path and take pictures of flora and fauna as my friend concentrates on the sand beneath his bare feet. I steal glances over at his bare feet more than once and envy him. I wish I too was brave enough to remove my shoes and feel the earth under my feet. But I am too scared to walk the 5 or so miles we will be walking without covering on my soles.
Walking along the trail, he asks, "what lesson does this path teach you?" I think for a few moments and I wish I could say that some profound knowledge came forth, unfortunately I do not. My lesson is something along the lines of "though the path may be easy, there are still ups and downs along the way.." I then ask my friend what lesson the path teaches him. He tells me that his lesson has been accumulating over a long period of time and he has not yet reached the point of full understanding. He proceeds to delve into his thoughts about the earth and life.
Our discussion progresses and I take less pictures and start to observe the nature of my friend. Here is a man that I have known for 10 or so years. He quietly walks along the trail in his bare feet, his hands behind his back. Again, I admire him and his barefeet, I begin to have small regrets at not taking off my shoes, but continue to walk with my soles covered and observe.
Each in our own way walk the same trail yet as we complete our hike I realize the juxtapositions of our soles and souls. Mine: covered, protected, inside, at odds. His: open, unprotected, free, at peace. Again, I find myself wishing I could be brave and just take off my shoes, if only for a few moments. I am not as brave as I wish I were. I am not as brave as everyone thinks I am. Self-doubt enters my mind. I wonder how Ron's feet are feeling and ask him. He replies that they are doing fine except for his heel where he stepped on something a while back (near the first of the trail). I think about my protected feet, feeling nothing under them but the tension of the sand and vow to bare my sole and soul to feel more beneath them both.
Thank you Ron for the lesson along the path and for teaching me over the past 10 years what true bravery is all about. Namaste.
Jonathan Dickinson State Park Photos Here
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