The mountains and the sea

  The Canadian Rockies are spectacular.  My daughter has only been speechless twice in her twenty-five years.  Once when I told her I had bought a house with a pool in the backyard. The next time was when she saw the Rockies for the first time when she was eight.

   My first glimpse of them was through pale gray rain clouds.  My husband, pointed out some enormous shapes through the drizzle.  I thought it was just larger clouds. The mountains of my youth were the ancient Appalachians, which stood like regal elders rounded over with age.  The outline of these was that of prideful youth, tall and craggy reaching nearly to the clouds.  My disbelief turned to wonder as we were enveloped in their majesty.  I had to tilt my head far back to see their peaks.

   As big as they were there are bigger mountains the further in you drive.  But the ones assigned to welcome people, the ones on the distant edges are my favourites.  There is a special place in my heart for the Three Sisters which overlook the mountain town of Canmore.  Set close together with three distinct faces they stand watch through the changing seasons.  They have seen the forest floor change from its evergreen coat into a patchwork of buildings and roads.

   Each time my sisters come to visit we make a pilgrimage to see the Three Sisters.  There are three of us and three of them.  We gaze in awe at them as drive into town.  We eat our lunch in their shadow then shop for fabric while looking out the window of the store soaking in their presence. 

   There is an ancient wisdom and peace about them.  Perhaps it comes from simply standing in one place for so long.  Or perhaps it is their solidness and size.  Whatever it is I find comfort in them.

   I have lived for the last decade in the foothills of these mountains.  Yet it has been at least two years since I have come to call on them.  Yesterday, I returned.  Once again amazed by their power and beauty.

   Without a doubt, I am a beach woman.  The sun, the sand, the pounding of the waves,  speak to my soul.  Given a choice I chose the beach every time.  But I have come to realize that a dose of the mountains every now and then is life giving too.  They have their own kind of energy.

  I could feel the energy shift as I drove in yesterday.  It isn’t always comfortable for me which is why I like the ocean better.  Sometimes the mountains unsettle me.  There is structure and a sense of constraint as I stand in the midst of them.  Where the ocean speaks of endless possibilities the mountains talk of setting goals and heading in a specific direction. 

   I was only there less than twenty-four hours, but I heard their whispers, their call to decisions which are always held in the hand of the Creator.  I listened.  Their voice has taken up residence in the deepest places of my heart to give balance to the wide open dare of the sea.  Together their voices blend to offer guidance as a I launch myself into the next unknown piece of my life.