My Ode to Bowron
Yesterday, I was rummaging through my notebook, trying to absorb everything that has happened in the last week, when I stumbled across an entry that I wrote in my first week at Bowron.
That week was the first time that I managed to put aside my worried, anxious mind and finally appreciate this amazing place.
As I reread this, my heart aches for this beautiful place and for all of the people affected by these fires. My thoughts are with the fire crews and all of the residents in the area.
Living in the Presence of Giants
It’s been years since I could breath – I mean truly breath. Deep in, deep out, followed by a moment, just one short moment, of calm.
Instead, for the past 3 years, my breaths have been prompted by a $2.00 meditation app and were immediately followed by a flood of worries, deadlines, morning meetings and spin classes that I should have been going to.
But now, out here, all of that is gone and, for the first time in years, I can breathe.
Out here, the cement cities squeezed between cement skyscrapers have been replaced by real giants, erupted from tectonic plates. They rise above and remind us that those cement skyscrapers that once seemed colossal, were actually dwarf stars, mere imitations of what nature made.
Out here, the city streets, once filled with waves of people each busily hurrying about their lives, have fallen away to walls of trees, each one standing strong and patiently watching the decades come and go.
Out here is exactly the kind of place where people come to feel small – despite a lifetime of being told that we need to prove how big we are. Out here, we’re not giants, nor are we masters of our domain.
Out here, in the presence of all things bigger, older, and wiser than I, can I finally breathe again.