Hope is a green duck with sunglasses

My German immigrant mother once reflected that I suffered from Weltschmerz growing up …a weariness or sadness arising from an acute awareness of suffering and evil in the world.

... a “world-weariness.”

Of course, a certain amount of that feeling was probably related to adolescence and the inevitable coming-of-age moments that color and shape our lived experience. But in these recent unpredictable and often cruel times, I have found myself once again battling that soul-deep discontent and sadness.

The only way I have found to keep that dark wave at bay has been the daily ritual of walking in natural places whenever I can. And that deep hunger for a moment of peace took me to Birch Bay State Park today on a very windy and cold morning. Since the campgrounds were closed, a walk underneath the towering cedars and firs was almost guaranteed to be solitary, and though the wind moved wildly through the tops of these trees, the air beneath was still and beautifully quiet.

During that walk, as the poet Rilke suggests, I tried to live the questions that occupied my mind, but in these days, the question on repeat was, “Why? Why? Why?“ Knowing the dangers of obsessive thinking, I tried the antidote: notice what is happening in this moment.

• My golden retriever was analyzing the world through her nose.

• The stream song was quieter today than the last time I was here.

• The frogs started a choir, and their practice songs were a warm blanket in the cool air.

In the middle of my noticing, I looked down, drawn to the sound of some small creature skittering around a tree, perhaps celebrating the arrival of spring. My gaze settled on the base of the moss covered trunk. Someone had perfectly placed a bright green plastic duck with sunglasses in a small opening in the tree’s bark.

Raw joy exploded from my heart before I could defend against it. It was as if the forest had been holding its breath, like a child playing a practical joke, just waiting for someone to discover this little intrusion into the natural world.

Emily Dickinson would tell us that “hope is a thing with feathers,” but today I tell you that hope is sometimes nothing more than a green duck with sunglasses hidden in the hole of a cedar tree, a moment of unexpected joy in the most unlikely of places.

And today, that was just enough to keep the Weltschmerz at bay.