Sunday morning was one of those days that begs me to be outside. It felt like the dessert to the broccoli of summer. The forecast was sun and temperature in the 50s. I woke up and, as I do every morning, practiced 20 minutes of Duolingo Spanish. A notice on my phone showed an email I subscribe to from Richard Rohr, the Franciscan monk, with a daily devotion. I took a moment to read it:
“While calling ourselves intelligent, we’ve lost touch with the natural world. As a result, we’ve lost touch with our own souls. I believe we can’t access our full intelligence and wisdom without some real connection to nature.”
Now, being a lawyer, the quote motivated me to reflect on the question “What is the soul of a man?” And so, as I drove to Spring Creek Forest, I sought the wisdom of Blind Willie Johnson, who sang:
“God, I want somebody to tell me, answer if you can! I want somebody to tell me, just what is the soul of a man? When Christ stood in the Temple, the people all stood amazed, was teaching the lawyers, doctors, how to raise the man from the grave.”
There are lots of versions of that song, but I settled on the one by Tom Waits, who got me ready for a venture into the woods. I was scheduled to lead a public walk at 9:30, but I got there at 7 to walk to my favorite spot, have some solitude, read a bit, and journal. I parked at 1770 Holford. I followed the paved trail and then the faint dirt trail that intersects the native prairie (all dormant at the moment) and through the woods to see the closest colony of Trout Lilies. These are among the earliest wildflowers to bloom in North Texas.
I returned to the paved trail, crossed under Garland Avenue, and hit the main dirt trail. I was walking through the woods, taking my time, and paying attention to what was blooming. The Mexican Plum Trees were in full bloom. The Trout Lilies were just beginning to decline. The bloom is extensive but only lasts for about three weeks. It’s special because it takes six years for a plant to produce a bloom. I was happy to see the first of the Golden Groundsel spreading its bright yellow blossoms in the deepest part of the forest. I crossed a couple of the small intermittent streams and noticed that the Rusty Blackhaw Viburnum was starting to put out its blossoms. They will be splendid in about a week or so, I think.
I made my way to my favorite spot and down a bluff to sit on a sand bank, surrounded by the sound of rushing, clear spring water. As I do every morning, I recited the Shema Yisrael and then wrote in my journal. I pulled out a small book that I recently found as I was reorganizing some files. I suppose it says a lot that I don’t have any memory of buying this book, but it was a great read: Stephane Hessel’s Time for Outrage. Hessel wrote in 2011 at the age of 93, and these were his reflections on his service fighting Nazis in the French Resistance. Hessel writes these timeless words:
“Here is our message. It’s time to get angry! Politicians, economists, intellectuals, do not surrender. … I wish all of you to find your reason for indignation.”
Oh, there are so many reasons! Ongoing carnage in Gaza, the death of Nex Benedict, the non-binary Oklahoma high school student, so many assaults on reproductive health rights, razor wire at the border—and I could go on and on. We all could. My job is with the Dallas Eviction Advocacy Center. And now that I’ve been there for over six months, I find that I’m outraged at the daily assaults on housing rights and the failure of our state to find meaningful solutions to the high cost of living, which is outpacing the inadequate wages of the working poor. There are solutions. And some of our leaders are looking at those. I’m thankful for our siblings at the Child Poverty Action Lab who are producing thoughtful work, looking hard at housing, and doing the data collection and analysis to do it creatively and effectively.
I finished reading and walked to where our hike was to begin. There were 15 folks who wanted to spend some time in nature. To set the tone, I started by reading a Wendell Berry poem: “To rest, go to the woods, where what is made without your thought or work.” We then walked a couple of miles. We walked under majestic trees and looked out on a large expanse of green, the Virginia Wild Rye and Gallium. The trees are the reason that the Spring Creek Forest was recently named one of two forests in the state of Texas to be a part of the Old Growth Forest Network.
As we walked, I pointed out towering Bur Oaks, Chinquapin, Red Oaks, and ancient Walnuts, some of them over 125 years old. We paused at the subtlety of the understory of Eastern Wahoo, Possum Haw Holley, Carolina Buckthorn, and Laurelcherry. We gazed up at the beautiful white blossoms of the Mexican Plumb and the buds of the Rusty Blackhaw Viburnum.
It was good for all us to find some rest in the woods. And for a couple of hours, I managed to set aside some of that outrage, rested to fight some more the next day, when we’d be back in eviction court.
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