'diamonds' Are Forever For Wilkes-barre Runners

Angry Words Fly During W-b Crime Meeting 
Police Chief Cuts Meeting Short As Residents Complain Hazle Avenue Bars Are
Source Of Crime And Shootings In Rolling Mill Hill Section Of Town.

EVELYN T. BRADY
 Thursday, November 23, 2000 &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Page: 13A 





IT'S A tradition born out of circumstance. I rise early Thanksgiving
morning, just the other side of dawn when the invisible sun burns beyond the
dark, cold sky and the world has yet to fully awaken. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Slipping out from beneath warm covers, I pile on layer after layer of
clothing, trying to insulate myself from the anticipated chill I'll encounter
deep in the woods. Fortified with a mug of hot tea, I lace up my hiking boots
and set out to explore my favorite rugged terrain. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 My kids used to accompany me on this annual pilgrimage, but that was back
before they became teenagers and decided morning didn't really begin until
some time after lunch. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 What began as a way for my family to keep me out of the kitchen and prevent
me from ruining yet another Thanksgiving dinner evolved into a family
adventure. It became a chance to spend a few hours outdoors amid the pines and
crags ornamented by the chatter of ground squirrels. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 For the last few years it has been a solitary journey - a time to hike the
trails and remind myself of the many blessings in my life. It is a time to
slow down, to engage in quiet reflection and to reawaken my spirit. It is here
in the woods where I take myself to heal. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 I come into the peace of wild things. I come into the peace of still water
and for a time I am reflected in its grace. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 I sit for so long that I become part of the rock. The stream runs through
me and I can no longer distinguish myself from the trees that surround me. My
life reaches to the roots and wherever my feet touch the earth I know I am
touching something that has died or been reborn out of the debris. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 There is an inherent poetry in nature, a symbiotic merging of sound and
motion. It is there in the dried leaves that crackle beneath my boots. It is
there in the clear pebbles of rain that dance across the landscape. It is
there in the angle of geese thatho fly high in the winter sky, their call
harsh and excited. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 It's easy to feel a sense of reverence out here in the wilderness. Standing
on lifted, folded rock that falls away to a far valley, I send my words of
gratitude along with the wayward wind. It's become a ritual these past few
years to use this time to bless those who have brought intention to my life;
to bless my friends who bring me back to center, and to bless my children who
teach me humility by reminding me of my flaws. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 I use this time for remembering for remembering with tend erness a father,
a grandmother, a grandfather, all of whom left here too soon. I use this time
for letting go - for letting go of earthly wounds and needless separation when
the world continually offers me its beneficence. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 At the heart of gratitude, in its most intimate sense, we find an
expression of belonging. When we say, ``thank you,'' we are really saying that
we honor the connection that exists between each of us. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Within this human impulse toward gratitude flow the vast cycles of
universal exchange - for everything that is taken, something has to be given
in return. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Our thanksgiving is as essential a part of life's give-and-take as are the
cycles of air and water. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Evelyn T. Brady is volunteer president of the Board of Directors of the
Victims Resource Center and a member of the Luzerne County Commission for
Women. Her Times Leader column appears on alternate Thursdays. She can be
reached at prophet1958@hotmail.com. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;

`through The Woods' Is The Part Of Thanksgiving Day To Savor Gratefully