mountain
October 2008 
Missing the Mountain
Posted on May 28th, 2008
by 
Serendipity
Serendipity
We spent Memorial Day weekend at our cabin and, like every other time we've gone, I miss the mountain when we come home. Actually, coming home isn't what we do. I think we leave home behind, and come back to New Jersey.
Driving north, on the way there, the hills start to turn into mountains at just about the half-way point. When I see the first one towering over the road, I feel a tremendous sense of release. I feel the tension drain out of my body. My breath gets deeper. I am filled with peaceful anticipation of the weekend. For me, the five hour ride to the cabin feels like the journey to paradise. The paradise has too many mosquitoes this year, but it is still paradise.
There's something about that little town in the mountains that just slows me down. Maybe I am just trying to conform to the pace of life there. Nobody is in a hurry. People linger over breakfast at the tiny diner, chatting with the waitresses and anyone who passes their table. There are only two blocks of Main Street, so people can be in and out of every shop in an hour. All the basics are there - groceries, pharmacy goods, supplies for hiking or fishing or boating. People have all they need, or they make due without it. (Except a yoga studio. Doesn't every town need a yoga studio?)
Driving south has the opposite effect. I start thinking about work, who has to be where over the next few days and how I am going to get all the places everyone needs to go without sitting in traffic. I want to clean out my house, with a goal to live more simply, so I make a list in my head of what needs to be tackled and stress myself out trying to figure out when I'm going to squeeze that in. Yes, living simply is creating stress. I think I've missed the point.
I daydreamed about my mountain a number of times today. I wish we could just stay there. We are seriously thinking about it. Maybe when I am done cleaning out the house, it will be in perfect shape to sell. Maybe someday soon I can wake up every morning and breathe the mountain air and move slowly through my day. That little mountain town needs a yoga studio, after all.
Driving north, on the way there, the hills start to turn into mountains at just about the half-way point. When I see the first one towering over the road, I feel a tremendous sense of release. I feel the tension drain out of my body. My breath gets deeper. I am filled with peaceful anticipation of the weekend. For me, the five hour ride to the cabin feels like the journey to paradise. The paradise has too many mosquitoes this year, but it is still paradise.
There's something about that little town in the mountains that just slows me down. Maybe I am just trying to conform to the pace of life there. Nobody is in a hurry. People linger over breakfast at the tiny diner, chatting with the waitresses and anyone who passes their table. There are only two blocks of Main Street, so people can be in and out of every shop in an hour. All the basics are there - groceries, pharmacy goods, supplies for hiking or fishing or boating. People have all they need, or they make due without it. (Except a yoga studio. Doesn't every town need a yoga studio?)
Driving south has the opposite effect. I start thinking about work, who has to be where over the next few days and how I am going to get all the places everyone needs to go without sitting in traffic. I want to clean out my house, with a goal to live more simply, so I make a list in my head of what needs to be tackled and stress myself out trying to figure out when I'm going to squeeze that in. Yes, living simply is creating stress. I think I've missed the point.
I daydreamed about my mountain a number of times today. I wish we could just stay there. We are seriously thinking about it. Maybe when I am done cleaning out the house, it will be in perfect shape to sell. Maybe someday soon I can wake up every morning and breathe the mountain air and move slowly through my day. That little mountain town needs a yoga studio, after all.
Access: Public
I loved reading this. A few years ago, a friend of mine got married in the mountains of Asheville, NC, during autumn when the leaves were red and orange. The morning of the wedding, my friend Marian and I sat on an outdoor patio of a cafe, drinking hot chocolate and looking out over the trees and sky, and time seemed to stop. For a while, I didn't care if we missed the wedding – I just wanted to sit there forever. There is something very deeply spiritual about being in the mountains. I'm glad you got to spend time there.