The Gargoyle
I found absolute, overwhelming, heartfelt beauty while standing on the shore of the Pacific, mindfully moving through the Rocky Mountains, and sitting as a grateful observer on the shore of Lake Superior.
I found absolute, overwhelming, heartfelt beauty while standing on the shore of the Pacific, mindfully moving through the Rocky Mountains, and sitting as a grateful observer on the shore of Lake Superior.
Several hours into our drive, we are high. The road rises like a waking licorice whip (I said we were high) toward Lake Louise’s 1600 metres, or around 5, 249.344 feet; all for your amusement. There are multiple slows due to construction–you know, construction of road sections, mostly on cliffs. Or under cliffs. There is a serious abundance of cliffs.
Recently, I was to attend a Christmas choir concert in town here. Minutes before its start, I pulled up in front of where I thought I should be, but the vast choice of available parking spaces clued me to the fact that I was at the wrong church.
Louder this time from starboard, "I SAID THAT I'M NOT A MAN. I'M A FEMALE. I'M A GOOSE. NOT A GANDER."
I was back at the field yesterday. It's a good distraction from the search for a better job, a more inspiring place to live, and a soul mate. Plus I get fresh air. I arrived in the middle of the afternoon, and after three hours, had cleared an inner sanctum in the middle of the forest. There was an old tree that had fallen across the stream.