Mountains Archives - Owl Medicine: Shamanic Healing

Unutterable Beauty

Last night I took a photo of the setting sun as its brilliant deep orange rays filtered through the trees on the edge of Stover State Park. I’m always questing to capture even a fraction of the unutterable beauty we encounter almost every day, especially when we walk. But my photos, although serviceable, only occasionally capture magic. Yesterday evening? I managed to capture a sunset akin to a rainbow, but not one.

My eyes keep calling me to return to this photo. My rational mind tells me I’ve taken a bazillion of these photos before. But for whatever reason, this particular one speaks to me in a way the others didn’t. Perhaps it’s the aubergine hues. They’re not often found spontaneously in sunsets. At least they’re not usually present in my photos of sunsets.

This photo has a magical tinge to it. That’s the only way I can describe it. Or maybe it’s not magical – maybe it’s more of a mystical vibe – almost as if I should almost be able to see into another realm if I look at it ‘just right.’

Road Trip

I had a chance to take a road trip today that took me west along Route I-80. As I passed through some of the mountains that ground and hold space for us here in Pennsylvania, I found my perspective shifting to such an extent that it felt like I was literally in the midst of a multi-dimensional work of art. The color palette selected by Mother Nature, coupled with what felt/looked like a skewed aspect to my depth perception almost made me pull onto the berm.

It didn’t look real. Or maybe it was all so acutely real that it made me ache with a longing I couldn’t identify.

I didn’t pull over. And I had no way of even trying to capture the essence of what I was experiencing in those moments. The best I can do is try to capture it with words, but even then, it just sounds like a paltry description of unutterable beauty as seen in my peripheral vision.

(T-58)

Sunset on LBI – Photo: L. Weikel

Ocean or Mountain

I guess you could say I’m lucky I don’t have to choose between living in the mountains or living near the ocean.

If pressed, I would probably make the argument that I live in the best of both worlds: gorgeous countryside with an abundance of trees, rolling hills, farmland, and a life’s blood of creeks and rivers interwoven throughout. So why should I choose when I can visit both?

Water, Solitude, and a Striking View

As many of you know, when not relishing the beauty of my own personal environment (such as I indulged in last week), I’ve spent a decent amount of time recently in the Blue Ridge portion of the Appalachians known as the Smokies. And I’ve waxed on about the intoxicating beauty of that area.

Today, however, I had a chance to put my feet back into the Atlantic and feel the raw, primal power of the ocean. The scent of sea and salt here on Long Beach Island took me back to my summers on Cape Cod, as rolling mounds of blue green seawater rippled toward land, slapping against the sand in a massive swooshie sigh.

At first glance deceptively non-threatening, the mounds would rise suddenly out of their humpbacked travel into perfectly sharp-edged curls that resembled skateboarding ‘half-pipes.’ Seeing the mares’ tails spraying back at the topmost edges of those waves made me yearn to be back in the early years of my second decade of life, when body surfing would occupy my days for hours on end and I would fall into bed exhausted. Yet I almost always had just enough juice left to read a couple chapters under the muted light of the Christmas tree light sized bulb in the nightlight above my pillow. With the windows open, I could hear the distant roar of the Atlantic, and I could see the sweep of the “I-love-you” light of Nauset lighthouse across the pine treetops.

Wampum Memories

Yes, just putting me feet into the ocean made me yearn for those days when I walked with my mom and picked up wampum, giving each piece to her for inspection on whether it was good enough to pass her eagle eye.

Speaking of eagles, here’s one of the photos I wanted to post yesterday of an eagle that visited me at the Tohickon back in April in a moment of exquisite solitude.