a walk in the woods.
It's when I'm walking alone in the mountains that I feel most alive. When I huff my way over the crest of a mountain to be greeted by the beauty of the endless ocean, beams of warmth cascading through the luscious clouds above, it is then that I transcend the bounds of being a mere human, and enter into the realm of spirituality. My soul is elated when I'm out there. There is no time constraint. There is no definitive end to the hike. There's just me. My lonesome feet lumbering along. My breaths collecting quips for later use in good company. My eyes lazily wandering over this serene and magical land I've fallen into. I am whole and happy in these moments.
Today was cold. Brisk might be a better word choice. I wore long pants and a hoodie for this hike. The mud on the trails was sticky from the recent rains. The green was like fresh paint on the hillside. Winter is good. Rain is good. Alone is good. What is presumed to be cold, dank, and dark is transformative in its execution. The rain comes. The cold sweeps over, blanketing with shivers. Irony in blankets. Leaves barren the trees. Cold seemingly strips warmth of its existence, when really cold provides home for warmth. A cavity for growth and resurrection. For darkness only serves to amplify light.
As I walked alone today, I contemplated. I thought about writing and where it fits into my life anymore. I was recently confronted, challenged, a fear was voiced. In pursuing a career in teaching, where does that leave my passion and commitment to writing. Should one take backseat to the other. Or can they both ride shotgun, with their triplet children travel, adventure, and marathon kickin' it in the backseat. There's a cliche'd road trip journey of life reference waiting to be hatched here but I'm leaving it in the incubator.
I love words. I love writing. I love kids and traveling, running and adventuring. Those things are all a part of me and in order for me to be healthy and whole, they will exercise their presence. The challenge you see, is to seek healthy and whole. Off to the mountains I go, for the solace I seek is tucked away, nestled in the silence of a lonely hike. For it's when I'm walking alone in the mountains that I feel most alive.
Today was cold. Brisk might be a better word choice. I wore long pants and a hoodie for this hike. The mud on the trails was sticky from the recent rains. The green was like fresh paint on the hillside. Winter is good. Rain is good. Alone is good. What is presumed to be cold, dank, and dark is transformative in its execution. The rain comes. The cold sweeps over, blanketing with shivers. Irony in blankets. Leaves barren the trees. Cold seemingly strips warmth of its existence, when really cold provides home for warmth. A cavity for growth and resurrection. For darkness only serves to amplify light.
As I walked alone today, I contemplated. I thought about writing and where it fits into my life anymore. I was recently confronted, challenged, a fear was voiced. In pursuing a career in teaching, where does that leave my passion and commitment to writing. Should one take backseat to the other. Or can they both ride shotgun, with their triplet children travel, adventure, and marathon kickin' it in the backseat. There's a cliche'd road trip journey of life reference waiting to be hatched here but I'm leaving it in the incubator.
I love words. I love writing. I love kids and traveling, running and adventuring. Those things are all a part of me and in order for me to be healthy and whole, they will exercise their presence. The challenge you see, is to seek healthy and whole. Off to the mountains I go, for the solace I seek is tucked away, nestled in the silence of a lonely hike. For it's when I'm walking alone in the mountains that I feel most alive.
posted by Sabrina @ 11:30 PM
1 Comments:
Love this! "... these things are all a part of me and in order for me to be healthy and whole, they will exercise their presence" yes they must! Your words have challenged me to know and do what my spirit needs to be healthy and whole.
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