Kudzu

You either know what it is, or you do not. I cannot and will not explain its dual role in our world. I will note that it has an absolute strangle hold on The South, and when I look at it, I feel ambivalent because it is lush and green with long, purple flowers that dot the sea of leaves; however, it is a selfish killer. I think about kudzu a lot because it has ravaged the creek beds, and banks, and the accompanying hillsides that I run each week.



Today however, as I ran up to the entrance of the trail, I could not help but be overwhelmed by its beauty. It was everywhere. In fact, I was overwhelmed by its beautiful smell. The afternoon air was thick and warm and in it hung the most beautiful scent. It was so sweet and soft. I pulled hard on the air through my nose and allowed my head to swell with the contents of each breath. It was as I lifted my face to take these fat breaths that my eyes wondered to the swirling, clouded sky above me with its speckles of bright blue. The breeze that had been blowing over my body carried the noise of the flowers over me. This wind gifted me with a rare and full sense of touch to less mindful parts of my exposed skin. It was so delicate that my arms and legs and cheeks tingled. In my thoughts I joyfully prayed in unison with each foot striking the ground. I could hear leaves rustling, crickets rattling, birds madly chirping, swollen waters rushing past each lazy rock, and at moments...nothing. Each of my senses becoming more refined; each moment more unforgettable. My mind at rest, but my body at play in its movement and purpose. I felt wholly alive.



I am ever more grateful for this time...for the physical ability to run...and today, for the kudzu.