if you aint loving, you aint living ...
I have been spending lots of time outside lately: in the woods, in the mountains, wading in streams, and sitting and talking with people. I feel like I have somehow re-connected to the real world.I was without internet access for several weeks, and I have come to the realization that it wasn't such a bad thing. I try to avoid dependency in any form, and I am honestly very bothered by the fact that recently I had countless people asked me how I have survived without internet access at home.
I have commented here before on how easy it is to write about living, so much so that I miss the actual magic and wonder of taking my role in the story being written all around me, every moment of each day. I may sit in front of the computer and struggle to conjure up words in an effort to capture the sadness that creeps into my soul as I hear the sun whisper a soulful, almost audible goodbye as it falls into the mountains, but this act is in vain. Life is meant to be lived, not confined to dots and lines on a paper (or bits and bytes on a computer screen).
A recent addition to my life threatens to take the place that writing used to occupy. My digital camera has become an almost permanent fixture in my car and by my side. I witness a spectacular sunset, and I reach for my camera. I notice a certain glimmer in a child's eye, and I want to somehow capture the magic of that moment on film. Again, any efforts of the sort fail miserably. Joy and sadness, anticipation and anxiety ... none of these appear in their authenticity on film or in words. It almost seems to cheapen the moments and the individuals, to suggest that somehow I can do justice to them or the experience in words or by pushing a button on my camera.
So I am pulling away from technology for a bit, and regaining focus on the world around me. It's a world best experienced in hugs, laughter, tears, private sunrises, and soulful sunsets. Another human being will never, ever be able to experience the brilliance of a star-dotted sky as I do, and I am greedily slurping up these moments of light and awe.
There is something inside of me that requires tall trees, intimidating mountains, flowing rivers, gurgling streams, purpley sunsets, and twinkling night skies. These things fill me and flow through me, but I don't enjoy them as much when I keep them to myself. The inspired moments and thoughts, though, are not shared through emails, pictures, or even blog posts like this one ... their magic and beauty is spread when I love another person or say a comforting word that brings a smile to a tear-stained face.
I am convinced that the source of true joy for my soul is other people. It's easier to love them when I love myself, and I love myself best when I am a small dot in a vast, forest-filled, mountain-covered world. So I will put down the camera, and drop out of the blogging world (again), and run through the woods, splash in the streams, and then search for a person to hug and talk to about the green in the trees and the coolness of the water.
I think these mountains are getting to me.
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