Prompt - The place where wings unfurl.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
I've been feeling pretty low the last few days. Low on energy, low on enthusiasm, low on hope. I'm not sure why, but that's the state of my mind lately. I was driving home the other day; the roads were treacherous and snow-covered, and most of the others were driving quite slow, too. As I was stopped at a stoplight, my eyes wandered over the nearby landscape. Suddenly, a flash of desire coursed through me. I had an idea. How to get out of this funk, if nothing else.
At the next intersection, I turned west. It didn't matter where the road would take me, but I needed to go west. Why west? That's where the mountains are. That's where the drudgery of the city leaves and the magic of the snow and scenery begins. There was still light for a couple more hours, though I could feel the cold sun start its downward fall. I still had time.
Just outside the city a bit, there's a hike along a river that leads to a waterfall. It's at the base of the foothills that would eventually become the mountains, but it's a place I often have gone in the past. This spot is a little slice of enchantment for me, and at this time of the year, it was sure to be empty. I pulled into the parking lot. Bundling up with the winter clothes I had with me, I locked the door and made my way through the uncut snow to a bench I knew was there. It is set on the side of the river, with a small waterfall to my left and the mountains hazy in the distance to my right. The perfect spot!
I brushed off the bench and sat. It was cold but not unbearable. I could see my breath in front of me when I breathed. All the world was silent. No car sounds, no sounds of humanity. Only nature. I could hear the river making its way under the ice that covered it. Along the banks in front of me and across the river, the snow piled up like a blanket that was pushed aside for the movement of life in between. As I listened, I could hear the muffled gurgling as the mountain stream continued through the icy world.
I listened carefully - twittering birds, winter birds, could be heard. I could see their little forked footprints in the feathery snow nearby, so I knew they were around. Over to the right, away from the bench, I saw footprints of a more animal-sort. Now, I'm not good with footprints, so these could be a fox or a raccoon or maybe a bobcat, but I'm sure they were a bit older. They did not look fresh to me, so I did not worry. Besides, my car was just behind me so I was pretty safe. The sun was still in the sky and I know most animals will come out nearer to sunset. I didn't plan to stay much longer.
I sat there. Breathing in the crisp mountain winter air, breathing out my citified, depressed mood. In the vibrancy and life and beauty, out the drudgery and listlessness and loss. In the enchantment and ethereal and pristine, out the morose and lethargy and stagnation. With my eyes closed, I stood, put my hands on my hips and spread my feet a bit. The "Wonder Woman Pose." I continued with my conscious breathing and listening. I could smell the pine trees around me, the freshness of the world, the crystal icyness of the snow. I could hear the distant twittering and the cracking of the branches nearby. Yes, something was shifting
I continued to stand in silence, in my state of meditation and commune with this world, and I felt it begin. A slow release, like the slow opening of a flower in the sun. An unfurling of a closed and tightly wound coiled spring, slowly letting go, slowly relaxing, slowly grounding. I could feel my chest begin to breathe deeper, I could feel the muscles in my shoulder release, I could feel my feet and legs reaching down and out to feel the earth beneath them.
And, as the shift inside my body began, so, too, could I feel things rearrange themselves in my mind and my heart. My life circumstances had not changed, but in these last few moments, it was like the fresh mountain air did a housecleaning inside. My thoughts were clearer, my heart was more open. I could feel hope begin to blossom again, return to me. Ideas began to nudge themselves forward and it was time to head home.
On the drive back, I realized that this was something I needed to do regularly - visit a place for my soul. If I could recreate something in my home, that would work, too, but nothing surpasses the return to the land, regardless of the season. Each season holds its own magic and that is truly what nourishes my soul, my heart, and helps me see a way through the depression that is so much a part of my reality. Learning how to live with this and find ways to break through is part of my task; obtaining the skills and the self-awareness for when those moments come is a gift I can give myself.
No comments:
Post a Comment