I think everybody has something in their life that has a mystic quality to it. I mean there is something about it that draws your attention. When you see it you immediately turn your head to look in that direction. Something happens inside you that you really can’t explain.
For me, it’s old barns and baseball fields. Baseball fields have a special place in me because I spent a lot of time with my kids on the diamonds where we lived. We even took care of the fields a couple of years.
My love for old barns goes back to my childhood. All of my relatives had farms of sorts and as a result, had barns on their property. Many days were spent exploring them, playing in them and building things out of the stuff stored in them.
We would build “hay forts” as we called them, out of the bails of hay and straw in the mow. They were stored there to use primarily in the winter. We would build walls and tunnels, using the lumber that was stacked in a pile against the wall to stabilize the roof of our makeshift structures.
We would spend hours playing in them.
Another thing that was in barns in those days were basketball courts. We had one in our barn and when it wasn’t full of hay or straw we would play basketball hour after hour. It was always winter time when we did this and it was always cold. Being inside the barn didn’t make it warmer, it just kept the wind off.
We knew where every loose board was. We knew every caveat. We could climb up the walls clear to the top of the barn hanging on to the massive beams that formed the frame of the barn. We would use the ropes from the old pulley system my grand father and great grand father used to lift hay into the haymow as “vines” and swing through the barn like Tarzan.
It brings back such great memories writing about it. I think that’s why my head turns when I drive by an old barn. Some of them are in disrepair, the shingles are falling off and the siding is askew. The paint is pealing and the windows are broken. But there’s something magical about them, something special. All of the memories of work and play are stored up in the walls of those old structures.
When we would travel to another community when the kids were young to do sports tournaments or vacation. I would always look for a baseball field to sit in the morning. I would get a big cup of coffee and sit in the bleachers, reading a book, praying and writing in my journal. For me it was special. My life has been filled with learning and I want it to remain that way. I would spend a couple of hours there, looking up at the sky and reflecting.
I read a book recently about commonalities of successful people. What successful people had in common. Almost one hundred percent of them had some kind of quiet time in the morning. A time of solitude and reflection. A time to think and prepare for the day.
What have you mystified in your life? Why is it mystic? Is it based on memories of your childhood or perhaps your life with your children? I believe memories are a strong part of what forms us as people. They strengthen our values and form our character.
Cherish the memories. Learn to treasure hunt your childhood. Think of the good things and you will form magic in your mind. Use it to make you a better person. Develop a routine of solitude. Get alone with yourself. It will pay off in the end. It seems like people run out the door and get engaged in their day very early. It stops creativity and stifles production.
Think about how you can set aside time for quiet. There is healing in the quiet.
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