Living in the shadow of a mountain, it is difficult to pretend that you are bigger than nature, more able to outlast her, with the right to try to conquer and vanquish her.
Would that everybody, especially those who see themselves as "rulers," live in the shadow of a mountain.
Nature happens at her pace, not that of governments, corporations, NGOs, experts, "Science," or the media.
There is a sense of rightness, security, normalcy, and health to nature, who does not bow to the desire for power and profits that eats up the soul of certain residents on her earth.
I've always appreciated the adage, "Things look better on the other side of the fence." We keep dairy goats, and know from experience that they frequently think that what they can't reach is better than what they have.
And what's amusing about it is that what's on the other side of the fence looks pretty much like what's on their side of the fence.
When I am at the ocean, as much as I enjoy the sea itself, I revel in watching the clouds overhead. Just as there is a great expanse of water, so also is there a magnificent display of sky, and especially before or after a storm, the clouds are splendid in their moodiness, broodiness, and drama.
Maybe it's because I grew up in small towns and country settings that I prefer to avoid crowds. When I travel to well known spots, like Zion National Park, I enjoy the challenge of finding the isolated, generally undiscovered landscapes that are just as beautiful, or more, than the areas where everyone is flocking.
"free" time: when we're away from the workplace, with friends, and doing something adventurous and fun and exciting -- this is a memorable, golden time that warms our heart as it creates memories we are determined to repeat.
I never get used to how dark it gets, so early, in the winter. My inner clock is set for those summer days when the evening comes late and slow, its fading light leisurely lingering, lingering, slowly filling the landscape with its shadows until it finally can do so no more.
What better time than the beginning of winter to think about the last days of summer? It's so easy, in a society where we're told to focus on the "news of the day," to forget that seasons come and go, things change, sometimes it's hot and sometimes it's not.
There is a distinctive scent of freshness to the air after a rain in the country. You can imagine the trees shaking their heads to release the droplets, and the grass taking in deep, healing breaths. I like to step outside and simply be a part of it.
On a snowy winter day, I like to walk through the landscape and just listen to the hush: there are still sounds, like the trickling flow of water in the stream, but they are lightly muted by the cold blanket of white. Even my footsteps are subdued, quieted.
Sunset -- when the shadows grow long, the air cool, the colors reflective and deep. It is a time given to us for contemplation and thought because it is the end of the day, not the beginning, and it is an invitation to seek rest, not endless activity.
Rugged peaks form a ring encircling a high, clear, pristine, alpine lake. This is a landscape of intense silence, one where you can sit on a boulder along the banks, look out over the water, and think pleasant, interesting thoughts (why be grumpy in a place like this?).
I love a good rainy, blustery, inclement, stormy day -- not because I enjoy getting soaked like a water rat, but because the clouds are dramatic, moody, and broody. They provide the perfect contrast to when the sun slices its way through, casting golden warmth over the landscape.
One of my favorites is the soft crooning, almost a lullaby, of spring in the mountains, when the water in the stream murmurs over the rocks. It is gentle, and calm, like a mother rocking her infant to sleep.
Children are an inspiration to us tired, jaded adults to keep looking out, gazing forward, seeking onward, and not stop listening to what our hearts speak.
There's something about a city that is old, very old -- its history going back hundreds, thousands of years. Orvieto, Italy, is such a place, a hilltop town where you can walk the streets, look over the walls to the farmland below, and think about all the footsteps that have gone before you.
A quiet walk on the Oregon Coast beach is the perfect way to start the day. When I am there, I do it. When I am not, at home and far from the beach, I let my mind take my footsteps there.
It seems as if from the moment fences are put up they start to lean, sag, droop, fighting the dual challenges of weather and time. Here, as I drive through the Northeastern Oregon landscape, I idly wonder which of three things will outlast the other: the river, the road, or the fence.
When you find yourself next to a lake that is so tranquil and still that the mountains are reflected in it, then you are in a place where you, yourself can be reflective. Deep, concentrated thought is so much easier when the surroundings are quiet.
There are castles made by humans, and those by nature. I prefer the latter because they're not reserved for a small population of humans who feel that their blood is better than that of others.
Water water, everywhere on the earth. It's so "common" that we take it for granted, but water is precious, so very necessary for life, and extraordinarily beautiful -- I love the way the sunlight dances across the surface of this clean, clear mountain like.
After a day out and about, it's good to come home. Life feels most balanced when there's a little of each: adventuring outside one's doors, and then returning to them.
Every day is filled with chores. It's an unfortunate word, chores, because it gives the idea that these daily tasks are unpleasant, but there is something meaningful in the work we do for our daily living. And when we share it with another, we create good memories.