Feb 20 2 Comments

White like a ski trail

A world of white. Pure like holiness

Yesterday I saw something that most people in the world never get to see. We skied to the top of a mountain, which took a lot of tears and a lot of not so kind words from our kids. They thought it was kid torture to make them go uphill on skis for what seemed like a thousand years. We came to the top and what we saw was a world of white mountains all around us. Layer upon layer of white, contrasted with a royal blue sky. It almost made me fall to my knees and sing. I did not do that, of course. I just kept walking and letting other skiers, faster than us, pass.

There is something about being on the top of a mountain that sounds like freedom. It feels like freedom. Why is that, I wonder. I wonder about that and I wonder why we all instinctively think that horses are pretty. Who said that they are prettier than for example pigs? OK, horses was not what I meant to write about. I just thought of it.

This is not the vast fields of Antarctica.This is in front of Steve's skis.

I think that on the top of a mountain I feel the most free because there is no clutter. There is open space. I feel I can breathe. I have space to think. On the top of a mountain there was no emails, no phone calls, no deadlines. Just the quiet of the open air and the white snow. On top of the mountain I could be exactly who I am. It did not impress the mountain much, neither did it reject me.

Skiing towards freedom from cluttered lives

Going down the mountain was a bit challenging and I had to keep my tongue straight. We made it to the bottom with no broken bones. It was a great accomplishment for our family. Then we skied back through a deep valley. This one was not spectacular like the mountain top. It just felt safe and protective. Like a kind auntie that will make sure that we never have a blister, never feel hungry, never need anything.

I think I prefer the wild and open mountain, unpredictable and windy, majestic and steep to the safe valley where nothing can go wrong.

And I think horses are pretty. Much prettier than pigs.

2 Comments

  • lynnie says:

    Horses are pretty. They have a sweet sort of wisdom aspect to them. My sissy is a horse person and she helps me want to get up and ride one. I did last summer. Funny was all I kept feeling. Poor horse had a rider that knows nothing about riding. But it was in a safe corral……And it went well. My baby son hauled up quickly on the horses back and he immediately liked the horse. My sisters horse farm is interesting because the horses come first!!!!!!!!! They have a state of the art barn with all kinds of extras… I like to be where horses are, pigs are cute too, but………MOUNTAINS however shape our thinking. I literally chose a place to live because of my mountain. Just knowing it exists near me gives me a feeling of peace. I would not ever like to live without mountains.

  • Rick Granger says:

    My daughter stood by my side, mesmerized by your words as I read them aloud – she followed along and corrected me if I missed a word. When I read the last sentence she giggled when you wrote that horses are more beautiful than pigs. It was really cute. Thank you for sharing your Nordic life with us Equator-bound pilgrims! I wanna come and be exhausted from skiing in your paradise. : )

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