What We Crave
Last winter I had a transcendent experience in the Wrangell-St. Elias mountains that reminded me of a freedom I had thought lost upon moving to Texas. I can't explain the nature of that freedom or how it felt different from any other unburdening my soul had experienced previously. Two snapshots ebb and flow into each other with the same energy and emotion:
My last night in Alaska. As a farewell to our childhood home and in a sense, to childhood itself, 3 friends and I set off north along the coast at the end of the North Road in late summer. Firecrackers, hot dogs, marshmallows, and some pure sodium metal (which is REALLY cool in water) in our packs. We road our bikes until civilization was long gone and commenced with our evening entertainment. As the sun set and the stars came out, we folded out our sleeping bags on the beach and watched the meteors rain down in a salute to a childhood well-lived.
My return to Alaska. "...the great white silence, not a snow-gemmed twig aquiver/ eternal truths that shame our soothing lies..." A line from Robert Service that bubbled up as I trudged along the frozen river at 20 below. I knew a warm fire awaited me, but in the moment, the air sparkled, the trees shone and the mountains rose up to meet the sky all around me. A time spent away had only heightened my longing for the pure tranquility of absolute focus on and unity with beauty.
This week I made a declaration, to myself at least, that I officially do not like Seattle. And yet as I sit outside Chocolati with the face of a robustly blooming cherry tree beckoning me to appreciate the landscape: the lake, the evening colors, the industrious exercisers, I am reminded of the same sense of freedom. And I realize that my surroundings do not dictate my joy, nor my tranquility, nor my sense of place in the universe. It is rather my acceptance of life and the willingness to fully engage all that it persistently and patiently offers.
It is in these moments that I find peace, purpose and the gentle, loving touch of my Creator.
3 comments:
yes.
to memories and love and beauty and peace with the factuality of not liking things.
and yes freedom. especially freedom.
hope you are well,
Thanks for that Ross :)
I have a song that I wrote based off a moment in Ireland when my friend and I actually found the end of the rainbow-- drove through it. The words go:
"I'm looking at the end of the rainbow
And there is nothing there
Except the magic of seven kissing colors,
There's light, there's rain, there's air.
I'll find something like the end of the rainbow in every place I go;
There is beauty like the end of the rainbow in everything I know."
Sometimes a sigh to get there. But I'm glad you found the cherry tree.
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