I used to bug an ex
of mine that he was missing out on truly seeing and experiencing the
beauty around him while hiding behind his camera lens. The other day
I realized that I was living my current experience based on what I
could write about it for my blog – beginning to compose it in my
mind right then and there, during the experience. I suppose in some
ways this may help to notice details and/or gain insight that I may
have otherwise missed... but what else might I be missing about the
experience by hiding behind my pen?
“Submerge yourself
in the beauty of life this week -”
my friend's well
wishes for this trip west have been running through my mind,
“- pretty sure
you'll find answers there...”
It's amazing
sometimes, the things you can learn, experience, find... when you
open yourself up to the possibility. I've had some interesting
conversations and experiences since thinking about, writing and
posting last week's blog. Including pretty quickly discovering a
hidden secret along The Ingraham Trail.
Heading north out of
Yellowknife, the scenery along the Ingraham Trail is pretty much the
same from beginning to end. Lots of rocks on either side of the road;
lots of green and – at least at this time of year – yellow, with
a few splashes of red.
Moments of beauty are interspersed, some of
the lakes more so than others.
And after a time
even some of these can start to become part of the “same”
scenery... with seemingly fewer moments of beauty further on. Or
maybe I just stopped less to appreciate them properly.
Sometimes you need
to stop, pull off the main road and walk in a little deeper to find
the beauty.
Sometimes you need
to stop, pull off the main road and walk in a little deeper to find
the beauty.
Sometimes you have
to decide not to.
When I did stop, I never stayed in that space as long as I could have or perhaps would have liked. I was conscious of getting back to my “home base” (and cell service range) before dark so no one would worry where I was; wanting to keep moving to see what else was along the road, to see what was waiting at the end.
The road itself is
far from smooth. The path curves along at 70km/hr, slowed by the
bumps and potholes caused by bitter cold winters, constant
construction, and pavement changing to gravel at the mid point.
If
only all construction came with warning signs and polite conclusions...
There are other things that stand out along the way as well, perhaps what and why speaking more about the observer than the actual things themselves:
Items that seem so
out of place, you can't help but notice with discomfort or a chuckle.
The markings of
those who have been before. Looking for a witness to their presence
in that moment, in that space; a witness to their existence.
The people sharing the road in this moment. The bus of tourists taking pictures. The parents with their unappreciative children. The cute guy with the slobbery dog. The group of girls wearing shoes completely unsuitable for the hike into the deeper beautiful spaces. And that couple who seem to be following you, or you them, to every stop; who sit and enjoy the scenery on their blanket, reminding you that sometimes the journey is better shared... until I remembered that at least I can stop and start whenever I want – and control the radio station - without considering someone else's enjoyment of the trip.
And then, at some
point, the road just ends.
If only life had the
option of turning around and driving back the way you came, to
re-appreciate the beauty of the road.
No comments:
Post a Comment