I only watched the news this morning in order to catch the weather, but I had to sit through a surfeit of dubious political crap before I could ascertain whether to wear sunglasses or a raincoat. All I wanted to do was to get on with my day. Just as this thought occurred to me, my brain decided that cogitating about the day’s events was much more interesting than equivocal campaign messages.
So I let my mind wander and allowed my body to follow my head. Before I knew it I was on the motorcycle zipping through the switchbacks up the mountain. What a stunning day! Nature is my muse and she is hosting a creative colloquium today. I’d better hurry because I don’t want to miss a thing.
I settle into my seat at the top of this mountain, just above the lake and I can see for miles. The sunshine at my back and the perfect temperature are fortuitous. Not that I would care if it were raining. I’d still be here. I rue the day old man winter rears his ugly head. That means it will be another nine months before I can come back here again. It feels like I’m being castigated for having an awesome summer.
I know it sounds utopian, but if you are very still and quiet you will hear the cacophony that is nature’s symphony and you will smell the piney scent of the Rockies. That, my friends, is God’s stage; larger than life and humbling. Nature has a particular discernment where my soul is concerned. I keep coming back so that I can learn what her secret balm is. She quiets my mind and paves the way for my creative journeys. I could sit here for hours and hours lost in my reverie and for this, I am eternally grateful.