A mere 45-minute drive west from the northeast coastline of New Jersey, the bustling metropolis of the George Washington Bridge vicinity where I reside, you’re bound to come upon lush, bucolic hills and beautiful farms, dotted with quaint roadside stands and their overflowing bushels of sweet corn, fresh peaches and luscious Jersey tomatoes enticing you to stop the car.  Many of New Jersey’s farms could have been modeled from a Norman Rockwell painting, corroborating the befitting “Garden State” nickname.  (I challenge any tomato to go up against the plump, juicy “Jersey;” layer a few ripened slices between rows of authentic Italian buffalo mozzarella drizzled with some extra-virgin olive oil and sprinkled, fresh basil  and you’ll have a little piece of heaven on earth … but I digress.)

As I was driving along a dusty road towards my destination yesterday, I spotted a field of cows.  Feeling a bit earthy from the scenic route, I decided to pull over and take a nature break. I always feel sadness when I see cows.  While I haven’t eaten red meat in years (this is not a political statement I should add), I can’t help but wonder, “Do they know their fate?” and if so, “Do they care?”  But for that one moment yesterday afternoon, in their little corner of the world, they looked contented.  Peaceful with their lot in life, if not a bit resigned, but still contented.

I started to think … while they don’t know what their futures hold, they still keep grazing along and enjoying, presumably, each other’s company.  Can humans learn something from a cow?  I think so.  I know I fret at times more than I should.  While I’m no longer young, I’m still a stretch from the golden years of a comfortable porch and a familiar rocking chair.  I feel caught in the middle of nowhere somehow, in that one-foot-in, one-foot-out stage at life’s door where a mind can easily drift to “what’s going to happen tomorrow?”  In these unsettling and tumultuous times, it’s a justifiable place to drift.  “What will the next year look like?” “Will I be happy or depressed, flourishing or insecure, healthy or ill in five years from now?” can become a silent mantra.  While life doesn’t come with a crystal ball nor the guarantee of a tomorrow, it does come with a small control button labeled “Today.”

And that’s where the cows come in … I may not know what tomorrow will bring, heck, I’m not even sure what I’ll be having for dinner tonight, but I do have today.  I have this beautiful morning graced with a fresh cup of coffee.  And just for today, I think I’ll go out and graze.