outside

Hi Maggie,

Still trying to process and share my trip.

I thought a lot about Grandma when I was there.  I remembered the way she always stood aside and watched.  She never really participated in anything.  She listened a lot.  I remembered that she never drove, and I suddenly wondered if Pop did all the grocery shopping.  Did she even go to the grocery store? Did she go anywhere except church?

A few times when I felt like an observer in life rather than a participant - I thought of Grandma, and I tried to enter, to be part of what was going on.

I wonder if she is with me, prodding me gently...

I also thought a lot about my fear of heights. I wonder if I should treasure it and step back and admit I am afraid of falling. Or if I should embrace it and go to the places that take my breath away and make me feel nauseous...which is sort of how flirting makes me feel...

While we were camping, we hiked way up to what was called a blue pool.When we got to the top, there was water at the bottom of a crater that might have been 50 or 75 feet deep.  I stepped way back from the side and declared I was not going down. We didn't because it would have been dangerous with kids.  And because the dog started to slide and had to be carried out on my son's shoulders.  The dog probably weighs about 90 pounds. My daughter-in-law broke the dog's fall, but couldn't get him out.  So my son disappeared over the side and climbed back outwith the dog on his shoulders. The dog is about 14, and they said this was probably going to be his last long hike.

That dog has hiked all over the country...

The next day we went to an area covered with volcanic rock.  Again, we were high.  But I was looking across black lava fields at towering mountains with glaciers.  It felt primal. Everyone else decided to climb a tower.  I decided to stand down on the rock.  The wind was blowing.  I heard voices on the wind.  They had to go fast because no one is listening.

My daughter-in-law came down from the tower and convinced me to climb to the room inside of the tower. There was a path that wrapped around the tower.  I did not go stand on top. But the inside was amazing. And I walked up it. I did it.  And more importantly, I walked down!  I embraced my fear. 

We looked for a place to have a picnic, and stopped at a small lake in a mountaintop meadow.  There was one blue heron, just standing guard.

It felt like a wedding place.  I had the feeling I could live there. I don't especially like going up and down the mountain, but staying on top, in this gorgeous meadow would be lovely. I felt like I was in a different time, pioneering in the meadow.

While I was there, I read most of the National Geographic magazines from the past year. I read an article about the first North Americans who came across the Bering Land Bridge and began working their way down the west coast. As we drove through those mountains, and hiked in them, I could almost feel those first people.  I suddenly felt what it might be like to only have tools and know-how, to survive, to be part of the land. 

But when I hit the meadow and felt at home, I realized I'm an agriculturist, not a hunter-gatherer.

Back at the campsite, I noticed that the soil was dusty, giving, soft, but unyielding.  It reminded me of an older woman, a Friend, who by being authentic, taught me to say no in a loving way.  Everything was so female.

I stood and listened to a gentler wind, now that we were down off the pass. I heard, "We're here."  I had a brief, furious, overwhelming feeling of love...it's okay.  No words...then it was gone.

It's magic everywhere, as long as we are outside.

Love and hugs from Clare