Have you ever felt at home in a place that is not, in fact, your home? Like you’ve lived there forever even though your feet are perhaps touching the soil for the first time? Despite the fact that the coast has been my terra-of-choice for over 2 decades, I still feel the most alive in the mountains. Given a choice, I would always rather head north than south. The Pacific Northwest mountains are that home away from home to me. I love the changing seasons, the summer thunderstorms and the glitter that falls from the sky and sticks to the trees in the winter. I love that people wear boots and scarfs out of necessity. I love that coffee shacks and ice-fishing shacks are an actual thing. I love the smell of rain and mud and the sound of the wind blowing through the Douglas and Frazier fir trees. I love how red the maple leaf turns and the yellow and gold flickering leaves of the aspen trees in the fall. I love that it stays light until 11:00pm in the summer but the sun barely rises by 8:00am in the winter. I love that nature genuinely awakens in the spring, celebrates in the summer, boasts in the fall and somehow looks just as beautiful as it sleeps in an icy wonderland through the winter.
As many of you know, I’ve checked out for the summer. I’ve traded no parking places for wide open spaces, and I’m not ready to return to reality. I spent this morning practicing yoga on a paddle board in the middle of a lake fighting wind, waves and a sun that stayed primarily behind some very dark clouds. And it was THERE that I found peace. In fact, I’ve been able to find a stillness this summer that I have been missing for the past two years of my life. It took me a few days to wind down and a full two weeks to relax. I admittedly panicked when my phone did not work well in my new zip code, but I eventually learned to roll with it. I’ve discovered that there are still places in the world where wifi is not the most important feature in a home. For many of these locals, wifi is just another four letter word.
Two girlfriends from LA came to visit recently. I watched in horror as they scoured the house to find the best signal for their phones and brought their laptops to lunch on the lake in order to meet deadlines. I realize that I looked exactly the same way when I arrived, but luckily I have found a way to chill out since then. Time in the mountains will do that. It will force your body to do what it is MEANT to do, not what it has been programmed to do. This week I drove in to the National Park, where cellular service and wifi are non-existent. I spent 36 hours completely unplugged. I watched families interact. Over dinner I heard parents tell their children how proud they were of the hike they finished and the children replied by listing off their favorite moments from the day. I saw siblings chasing each other in the grass and groups bundled up looking out the window at a real breath-taking world instead of down at a virtual world on a tiny screen.
Stepping out of my routine and into someone else’s in a new environment has been eye opening. Instead of feeling like we are all on a constant journey, in search of something, whatever that may be, I sat back and watched people just live their lives. No searching. Just living. It was refreshing.
I am nestled among pine trees, steep hills, hiking trails, bald eagles, black bears and cold water. Adventure abounds. I have had my knees bruised on mountain bikes, skin pressed into yoga mats, feet beaten up on long hikes and balanced on surf, wake and paddle boards this summer – all to teach different lessons; To let go of the old and embrace the new. To give up preconceived notions and be open minded. To try it, even if I may not like it (which I did, in fact, most of the time). The board has proven to be both a companion and a teacher.
As I am writing, the couch is swaying. My world has constantly swayed since I arrived. I have spent more time on mountain bikes, floating docks, boards and boats, than on a flat surface. It is a soothing rhythm. Hypnotic. The rocking back and forth, the sound of the waves lapping the shore, the smell of wood and smoke and the cry of the ravens in the distance have all played their part in this remarkable summer.
Before long I will be back in the mix but I hope to take a piece of the mountains back to the beach with me. The reminder to go slow. To let go of preconceived notions and try something new. To stop searching and start living.
WM
