I sat down in the anti-gravity chair, pushing my feet outwards towards the sky. A sandwich grasped in my left hand, a cold beer cupped in the right, I studied my surroundings. Secluded, nestled on a remote beach far from civilization, I sat with impressive company of an aquamarine lake and evergreen forest while the mountains stood guard over our private dinner party. Clouds blew in above, but determined I covered myself with a blanket, undeterred by rain or wind. In environments like this I am immovable. My heart connects, my soul unites with God’s creation.
My mind wandered to how far-removed from where I live this moment was. A city girl from birth, the “country” or “wilderness” was for camping trips or visiting odd relatives unaware civilization was still progressing, advancing. Life is fast in the city – everything always on the move, everything always turned on. You become accustomed to the hustle and bustle, pollution and the masses. I couldn’t imagine ever being content any where but among the big city lights.
My first trip to the mountains (Banff, Alberta to be precise) was an education in who I truly was. I remember sitting on the old ski hill with my family and I couldn’t stop staring, evaluating the view. I was mesmerized and for the first time in my life my soul was bound to something so raw and pure. The mountains have from that moment been my soft place to land. Like a child secure in their parents arms at rest, regenerating, the wilderness and mountains have been my refuge, my reset button.
Since that first visit I have gravitated towards the mountains. Any mountains. I have sought refuge in the peaks of Provinces and States close to where I, family and friends live. Alberta, BC, Ontario, Quebec, New Brunswick, South Dakota, Colorado, Wisconsin, New York, Vermont and Pennsylvania. I’m convinced I could live the life of a bush woman. I could leave it all behind – outlet malls, convenience stores, five star dining, Sunday banking. I could even forego makeup and razors – I’m sure to Q’s dismay. And although it would be extremely hard, since she is the best, I think I could leave my hair stylist (although I would probably try to convince her to move with me)!
Drifting back to the secluded beach, it was clear this is where I belonged. These opportunities are fleeting and I knew my soul would beg for just a few more minutes when it was time to pack it all in and head back to my existence. But in that moment I had found asylum. My battery drained from the trials of life, my soul in need of recharging, I plugged in. My heart connected and my mind settled. Although the wind whipped among the pines and droplets began misting the peaks, I had found peace among nature.
~True North Nomad
How do you recharge? Does nature help you reconnect and reset?
True North Nomad will be coming around the mountain when she comes – enter your email address top left, bottom right or bottom centre of this post and click “Follow” and never miss an impassioned tale again!