I love the mountains. I've vacationed a few times in mountainous areas, mainly in West Virginia, and I've always had great trips. I'm sure it's a combination of the altitude, the quiet, and all the extra oxygen kicked out by the abundant trees. It's a magical place (not unicorn magical or Doug Henning magical...more like Druid magical.)
There's a solitude you can't find many other places. I like the beach, but you aren't necessarily going to find a quiet place to reflect there. I suppose there's a measure of solitude out in the ocean, but it's not the same. If you meditate out in the ocean, you drown. The mountains, wooded mountains especially, are much more calming, I find. You can lose yourself in them, though figuratively more than literally you hope.
It's not so much the climbing that entices me. I've never been much of a sportsmen. I'm not that concerned with getting to the top. I just like being there. Where I am on the mountain matters far less than that I'm on the mountain. Of course reaching the top does offer it's own reward, and I appreciate that as well. I just don't seek it out. If that's where I end up, great. If not...whatever. I guess I have a very Zen relationship with mountains. Just be there, don't try to hard, and the rest will work itself out.
I think I have that same relationship with laundry.
No comments:
Post a Comment