One of my fears is that, if I move to the mountains , I will stop seeing their magnificence and ever changing character. I've asked people who live in the mountains "Do you take the view for granted?" and I get back mixed answers. Some do; some don't.
A few minutes ago I looked out the window to my backyard. On this late September morning, the colours are brilliant. The sun caresses the red leaves of my only maple tree into a lustrous shine. The golds of perennials and trees vary in hue, from pale amber to dark bronze. The green grass, the silvery sage of my Russian Olive, the blue grey textures of spruce and other forest colours set the varied warm colours of the oaks, ashes, dogwoods into contrast. I've looked out on this backyard for over twenty years. If I can still see its beauty and changes, why would I fear that I wouldn't do the same in the mountains?
I suspect that I have nothing to fear. My fear is rooted in the time when I was stuck and frozen. A common literary and cinematic device is to film or describe the world as shades of grey, without colour, and when the protagonist makes a life changing decision or gains insight, colour enters the story or film. When a person is feeling grey or flat, the world does not look bright. Breakthrough moments of insight are associated with the light - "seeing the light', "light bulb moments". Even when it is dark and we are dark, we have that spark inside ourselves that provides illumination, insight and light. The world is not monochromatic. There is pleasure and pain, fear and fun. The contrasts are necessary and the world is meant to be seen in colour. I see the world in colour and I see the changing fall colours. That is true and will be true, wherever I am.
A few minutes ago I looked out the window to my backyard. On this late September morning, the colours are brilliant. The sun caresses the red leaves of my only maple tree into a lustrous shine. The golds of perennials and trees vary in hue, from pale amber to dark bronze. The green grass, the silvery sage of my Russian Olive, the blue grey textures of spruce and other forest colours set the varied warm colours of the oaks, ashes, dogwoods into contrast. I've looked out on this backyard for over twenty years. If I can still see its beauty and changes, why would I fear that I wouldn't do the same in the mountains?
I suspect that I have nothing to fear. My fear is rooted in the time when I was stuck and frozen. A common literary and cinematic device is to film or describe the world as shades of grey, without colour, and when the protagonist makes a life changing decision or gains insight, colour enters the story or film. When a person is feeling grey or flat, the world does not look bright. Breakthrough moments of insight are associated with the light - "seeing the light', "light bulb moments". Even when it is dark and we are dark, we have that spark inside ourselves that provides illumination, insight and light. The world is not monochromatic. There is pleasure and pain, fear and fun. The contrasts are necessary and the world is meant to be seen in colour. I see the world in colour and I see the changing fall colours. That is true and will be true, wherever I am.
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