Breathe I

Right now we're in Alamosa, Colorado, and the temperature is a lovely 82 degrees. It's gorgeous here, I mean, we're staying in a tiny little place, kinda smaller than Edmond, but above the Wallmarts and Subways, the mountains stand out against the sky like paper cutouts. They're huge, majestic, and so raw. They accomplish something that the ornamental pear trees in Edmond could never do. These mountains make me feel like, I don't know, maybe I've come home again. They're not staged, or pathetic, like the trees planted in neat little rows, or the perfectly manicured lawns. They're not tamed Nature. When I look at them, I feel so in touch, so raw, so natural. There's something in the mountains, a bit of rebellion, perhaps, a feeling of eternal self. I'll never be able to tame a mountain, and no matter how high I build any city, I can never block out the Mountains. This is their land.

Switching randomness, yesterday we visited the Great Sand Dunes, National Monument. Talking about simply jaw-dropping, I'm now putting Great Sand Dunes up there on my list. I was writing a sarcastic letter to my friend about how boring it would be (I mean, Sand. Dunes. Sand Dunes. What can you possibly do?), but when I got there, it was just amazing.

Picture Coloradoness. Beautiful, blue, rocky mountains, grass, trees, hills, and then right in front of the mountains, this mass of sand! It's more random than a spontaneously combusting alpaca (thanks, N).

Wow. My mind just went blank and I stared. Then the five year old in me kicked in and I gravitated towards the sand. After we crossed Medano creek, I'm not sure what passed between us, but we started up the dunes and began climbing.

One thing that stuck to me during the climb were Dad's words: With every step, all our troubles were sinking away into the sand. It was just us, and the sand. Somewhere in our trail of footsteps, the journey to the top became a journey of self discovery. And as the wind whistled around me, I felt my thoughts stopping. Slowing down, atrophing. Every step was an effort, we couldn't rely on the ground anymore, it sunk beneath our very feet. And I stopped thinking. Just kept climbing. So when my mind finally shut up, my commentary zapped away, the problems, worries, and trivialities of my life seeped away, I found myself. I found a sea of nothingness. And it was quiet.

We didn't make it to the top, but I will someday. I left, with a promise to return, and two shoes full of sand. After the trudge, the struggle, and every drop of sweat, I felt I had earned every grain of sand that had slowly seeped into my shoes. And I made a new friend. Something I never realized was the constant noise in my brain. Talk, talk, talk, sarcastic comment, injured suspicion, even my ongoing commentary. But when I finally shut up, I found myself. It wasn't really like meeting a new friend, or reuniting. I kinda felt whole, I guess. like I was one piece again. Like I was myself.