Hunke 1

Anthony Hunke
Life Studies: Reading and Writing Autobiography
Dr. Robert Luscher
August 30, 2012
The Fountain of Happiness
For every human being, a pleasing, emotion-evoking memory comes naturally. This
memory can depict an action, place, or a person, among many others. I am no exception. Positive
memories, or memorable events, are needed to sustain a healthy way of living. Without any
blissful reflections, it is hard for any normal person to hike the path of life without accumulating
scratches along the way. My memory is of a place not far from the plot of land on which I was
born and raised. This place happens to be a lake that has captured my attention and elicited my
deepest emotions. Unfortunately, the lake has dried up in the past few years, and plans to farm
the land have been made. While I may have been at a loss for words when I received news of this
new development, I could not help but replace those lost words with happy memories. The lake
has been a place of refuge, and it helped me heal, visibly and invisibly, with its pleasing aspects.
The circadian rhythm I was confronted with did not necessarily have to be a malicious
one for me to turn to the lake for insight, relaxation, and reprieve. Regardless of whether my
family harped on me about my responsibilities that I seemed to have shirked, or whether I felt
like shouting with delight to the heavens for my newly found fortune, the lake was a place of
solace and alleviation. It was, also, a representation of a life once known but now nearly
forgotten. My grandmother used to escort me to this very lake quite often. While at the lake, my

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grandmother would gently put her hand on my shoulder, the wrinkles of her hand reminding me
of her wisdom, and she would extract all of my secrets out of me, like what happened during the
day, who upset me, and what kind of devilishly clever pranks I may or may not have pulled
throughout the day. The lake seemed to have the "word vomit" effect upon me, for without
meaning to, I would, in fact, spill information I had not intended to tell anyone. I could not be
upset, only amazed at the intoxicating, hypnotic effect of the lake. It was almost as if the lake
breached the barriers of my mind and soothingly whispered, "It's ok, let's talk about it." The lake
itself did not contain all of the excitement; the endeavor to reach the makeshift "heaven" was a
task in itself.
A warrior was not required, but subtle skill and ingenuity soon expressed themselves as
highly recommended in order to gain admittance to the lake. First, a wall of vines encompassed
the entrance. If examined closely, it could be seen that the vines contained a domestic ecosystem.
Ants crawled frantically, the Asian beetles' wings hummed as they descended, and the vines
seemed to shimmer with the moisture captured in their veins. When I extended my arm to sweep
the vines to the side for my entrance to be successful, the vines seemed to shimmer and pulse as
a response to my touch. At first, I would retract my arm, frightened by the sudden stimulus. But,
once the response was conditioned upon the command of the stimulus, I began to examine the
vines on a closer level. I could almost visualize the water tracing its delicate fingers along the
skin of the vine. Like lovers, the water and vine seemed to complement each other, and without
one or the other, the system would fail. Once the door of vines had been opened and closed, the
skill came into play.
Rocks dotted the surface of a stream just beyond the entrance. Using careful balance, I
followed the path by hopping from one rock to another. Care was needed, however, for moss

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predominated and claimed the rocks for their own. I would not be deterred. I would try to
convince myself of the reality that I would make it across safely. The brief fear of slipping hit
hard for an instant, but it would soon be followed by the ultimate satisfaction of reaching the
other side. From the last rock to the opposite shore line, I would jump as far as I could,
obnoxiously plant my feet in the dust, and fist pump the air, as a kind of password to gain
admittance to the protective barriers of the lake.
Now safely across, there would be one more leap to make. Literally! A vast expanse of
open water awaited before me. The only way to traverse it without becoming soaked to the bone
was to use the vine hanging overhead. At this point of the trip, I would almost feel guilty for
disturbing the vine's natural place amongst the ecosystem of the lake. It was risky and dangerous,
but the end results would be worth it if my arrival was made. I dashed along the shore, gripped
the vine, and, relying on my momentum, swung to the other side. The slimy texture of the vine
seemed to mock me as my hands slipped off the vine. However, I would usually land safely on
the other side. I then would proceed to turn and mock the vine in return, sticking my tongue out
at it as if to say, "You can try all you want, but you will not get me." Once on the other side of
the water, the barriers of the lake were breached. I had gained full admittance to the
encompassing and protective arms of the lake. The air around me seemed to be heavy; breathing
became a struggle as the moisture in the air asphyxiated my lungs. A fleeting euphoric rush
would consume then leave me as I relived my swinging on the vine over and over again. The
elated feeling of swinging like Tarzan was short lived, for my mind would turn completely
elsewhere once I focused my gaze upon the lake.
During the evening hours, when the sun began its descent into what seemed like the
next world, the particles of the atmosphere bent the light in such a way where the sun appeared

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red. This reddish-orange color reflected off the lakes surface. What a sight! My breath left me. I
had to grasp it quickly before it departed for good. I could not stare out at the sun's reflection for
long because its beauty was unparalleled. If I would gaze upon its astonishing features for too
long, I would become entranced and never be able to look away. Forcibly, I had to avert my eyes;
I could not stay there, for I had to continue. As my eyes wandered from the sun's reflection to the
shore, I noticed the disturbance of the water. The ripples of the water would continue to crawl
towards me due to some unseen frog or turtle. I could almost see miniscule twigs and pieces of
moss surfing the crests of the ripples. While I admired the "cowabunga" theme of the lake
surface's debris, a light breeze secured my hair and began to pull it to and fro. The wind's effect
seemed visible amongst the vegetation. The tall grass would fluctuate in accordance with the
breeze, and with it, the smell of moisture reached my nostrils; my olfactory system kicked into
gear.
I would usually sit on a stump that remained in the same condition through time, or so
it seemed. The longer I sat there admiring the beautiful qualities life had to offer, the more the
laws of time seemed to abate. It was as if I would become entangled in some other world apart
from our own yet occupying the same space. I seemed to float out of my body. I was no longer
Anthony Hunke, but a part of nature itself, yet with all of my personal qualities intact. I was the
trees that swayed in the breeze. I was the cricket that jumped against the ferocious wind. I was
the wildlife that scurried here and there. I was nature. The reflected red light turned to twilight,
the chorus of frogs in the distance began to swell, the sweet aroma of lilacs played "keep-away"
with my nose, and memories seemed to surround my consciousness. Once surrounded, I could
not escape. Fleeting thoughts of my dog and I wrestling in the grass, mournful thoughts of my
grandmother near the end, and happy thoughts of my family would charge at me all at once. The

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General would issue the command, and I would put up a feeble defense. It was too much to bear.
The dam broke, and a flood of tears began to pour forth. I fought the wave off with regret,
admonishment, pleasure, and happiness. With the wave came racking pangs of regret, happiness,
and uncertainty.
The cacophony of voices seemed to define nature in a way I had not noticed before.
The bark on the tree displayed its gradient texture for all to see, the ripples crept slowly with its
crests and troughs, and the crickets jumped higher and higher as if in a race amongst themselves.
I assimilated all of nature at once; the smells, thoughts, sights, and intimate touches of nature
itself bestowed upon me as a gift one cannot gain ordinarily. With a frustrated outward cry and a
burst of emotion, I forced myself back into the body of Anthony Hunke. Once incorporated back
into my body, my senses began to return to normal. The light would be diminishing quickly, the
crickets gathering intensity, and the breeze would seem to still for the show about to start. At this
time, I would head back, not wanting to be a distraction or interruption for nature's performance.
The lake's healing effects were not always evident. Just the fleeting memories that
seemed to leave a mark upon me were enough to gain perspective. Sometimes, the healing was
not always in the physical sense. Sometimes, healing can occur by gaining insight, or having an
epiphany that previously eluded the mind. Leaving the lake was always the hardest part of the
endeavor, regardless if I had visited the lake numerous times within the week. Even in the
confinement and safety of my home, the thoughts of the nights spent at that lake would come
back to me. I knew in my heart that the lake would always be with me. It would bestow God's
greatest gift to me-- happiness.