03 December 2013
It was an especially hard week. One that wasn't letting up.
The both of us felt equally foggy and heavy.
After work we suited up and packed the car, heading for the mountains. It had just snowed that morning for the first time; the air was crisp and the canyon a brilliant white.
This trip was different. We drove up with exhaustion and a somber conversation.
But once we got out of the car and walked out of sight of the road, things began to clear away. Our cheeks became rosy, and laughter and smiles began to fill our conversation. We hiked through beautiful pine trees and along icy streams. When we decided to turn around, we stopped for a few moments. Both of us became silent.
I remember breathing in the fresh cold air, making my eyes water with it's bitter touch. We looked up through the pine trees, their limbs dusted with powdered snow. The moon was full and round in a barely lit sky. Our surroundings were silent, it's pressure weighing down on our ears. No cars, no sirens, no yells, or music. Pure silence.
We made our way back to the car, happy and talkative. With seat heaters and hot chocolate, we warmed up again and called it a night.
That moment, standing in deep snow, with the cold keeping me alert and the fading light heightening my senses, everything stopped. There was no sound, no thoughts, and no worries. It brought me clarity and energy.
I felt that again last night. While leaving Orem, I looked up at the speckled starry sky. The moon was full again, clearer than before. With another deep breath of that frigid air, I stood in the middle of the road and took it all in.
These moments of clarity are becoming necessary to me. They aren't often, but they are freeing.
This is something I was told once before, and now I can see it more fully: Nature brings me closer to God and closer to myself.
Posted by Erika Rae