I pride myself with having a vast variety of friend. I have friends from all 7 continets, from various races and backgrounds, and countless ethnicities. I pride myself even more with having a few select friends from whom I can draw strength, courage, and sometimes answers to the feelings and problems that plague my life from time to time. Over the past 3 years I've expereinced some life changing events. I've lost my father. I've lost my uncle. I lost one of my best friends. I lost a very important and influential friend for who I wouldn't be were I'm at today with my career. I recently found out that an aunt I haven't seen in years died months ago and no one told me. I've battled depression for 3 years now. Yet it's that core group of friends that are always there for me that help me keep going. For them, I thank God every day.
Tonight I spent a couple hours talking to a friend of mine from Boise. She did most of the talking and I thank her for that. She gave me insight on a lot of issues in my life (especially from a woman's perspective which I won't dare claim to understand) and help me understand my emotions more. I'm still trying to figure out how to process what she told me. I understood it all. I just don't know what to do with it. I don't think I've ever claimed to be fully over everything that has happened in my life since 20 April 2006. As a friend and mentor of mine told me, "You never get over it. My father died over 20 years ago and I still ache inside." He's right. But I do know how to think about it now. I can differentiate between the healthy outlets of griveing and stress and the unhealthy ones. I climb...I climb a lot. I'm obsessed and I love it. I ski, I surf, I kayak, I fish. I travel sometimes absurd distances to pursue these interests. I've only explained why to one person who asked me, "Why [I'm] so obsessed with nature?" It took me about 5 minutes to fish for (no pun intended) the answer. I told him I was a religious person. I told him, deep inside my soul, I thank God, for the mountains here for me to explore, the rivers to navigate, the waves to surf, the slopes to ski, and the animals to connect with. Most improtantly, I thank Him for the moments of solitude that these majestic places on this planet provide. I spend time during these sports relecting internally in ways I wouldn't be able within day-to-day society. Far from the indignities and expectations of said society, far from the self-righteousness and pettyness of those that try to shove their ideas and beliefs into your head, far from the bustling chaos of people to and fro within their concrete and asphault prisons lie places of wonder and awe, places spiritual and pure where one can think freely; where one can feel freely. It's these places where my emotions don't assault me. It's these places where they don't pop out and say surprise! They hover in check, allowing me to think undisturbed producing results from my thinking. It's in the natural places where I do my best healing. Sometime before I leave, I'm going to take my friend's information from tonight's conversation into the Shenandoah or Potomac Rivers. I'll take it to the Monongahela National Forest. I'll take it to the Chesapeake or Assateague Island. I'll take it to one of the places I've ranted about tonight and disseminate it. Hopefully, I'll be able to do something with it...like find answers to my life questions...
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2 comments:
I'm a nature guy too, but this is a different take from Ayn Rand's Fountainhead.
You've never felt how small you were when looking at the ocean.
He laughed. Never. Nor looking at the planets. Nor at the mountain peaks. Nor at the Grand Canyon. Why should I? When I look at the ocean, I feel the greatness of man, I thikn of man's magnificent capacity that created this ship to conquer all that senseless space. When I look at the mountain peaks, I think of tunnels and dynamite. When I look at the planets, I think of airplanes . . . I would give the greatest sunset in the world for one sight of New York's skyline. Particularly when one can't see the details. Just the shapes. The shapes and the thought that made them. The sky over new York and the will of man made visible. What other religion do we need? And then people tell me about pilgrimages to some dank pesthole in a jungle where they go to do homage to a crumbling temple, to a leering stone monster with a pot belly, created by some leprous savage. Is it beauty and genius they want to see? Do they seek a sense of the sublime? Let them come to New York, stand on the shores of the Hudson, look and kneel.
yo...good writing. enjoyed reading it!
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