Sunday, November 27, 2011

meet me here

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I'll meet you there.

I have a lot of favorite passages by Rumi. This is one of my favorites of my favorites.

This photo taken on our annual Thanksgiving hike. This particular area is halfway up the hill where an old family cemetery is located.

We chased the sun up the hill. Those that are familiar with hollers will know what I mean. You only get several short hours of actual sunlight at this time of year.

You can see the top of the hill basking in sunlight. If the climb weren't so steep we'd all have gotten there much quicker. This particular hike never felt this strenuous as a kid. Funny how things change.

Yet so much remains the same.

Like the magic that exists in these mountains. Of all the places I've traveled. All the beautiful and majestic mountains I've experienced, none of them speak to me quiet like these.

These mountains will take you in and fold you into their arms.

People like my parents are forever embraced by these hills. Even if they want to leave they find themselves back here, unable to break away.

People, like my brother went away and returned to live in these hills. He is more in love with these mountains than anyone else I know. He knows the names of the rivers, streams, and the trees. He knows the topography of these hills much like he knows the back of his hand. He is changed by these mountains I believe these mountains are changed by him.

People like me, have had a complicated relationship with these mountains. At times wanting to run away and at times wanting to run far and deep into the woods. With each visit to these hills I find much to celebrate. Much to learn. Much to love.

When I think of places where there are no ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing I think not of a meadow but these hills that I still call home.

We should all be so lucky to have such spaces.

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