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| High mountain wilderness |
Like nature herself, creativity is something continually reborn. In nature it seems there is much gathering of precious moments to cherish. Often, creativity is the same.
I'd like to share a time when, high in the mountains, I went a-gathering.
The lavish onslaught begins in the early dawn inside a sleeping bag covered with icy rime.A chorus of unfamiliar birdsong echoes around to waken me in the chill morning air. I want to remember the sounds. I listen hard, gathering.
On through the day I am the willing receptacle of sight and sound, taste, texture, and smell: hot coffee as I bring it to my lips fills my nostrils with familiar aroma; the crunch of pumpkin seeds and tart dried cranberries in my mouth on the trail; the rhythm of footsteps marches along to the clang of metal on my pack; the distinctive sweet, pungent smell of sage...These and so many more sense-filling moments are gathered here in the heights.
At the end of the day, with the the dwindling fire's smoke in my hair, I am again tucked into the same sleeping bag for the night. The wind plays a song through the trees, a bat swoops, the final call of a raven is accompanied by the rush and shore lap of the nearby river. I look one last time up at the night sky where myriad stars cast their light on the darkness. I close my eyes, then pop them open one last time to record all this magnificence. Gathering, even as I drift off.
Months, even these years later, I can still pull up these glorious mountain memories. They remind me again and again of the value of simply being--of listening and seeing and hearing and tasting and touching without doing another thing. The gathering nourishes long after the moments themselves.
