I couldn’t figure it out.
In my last post, I referred to winter towns squeezed between the mountains and the lake at the shore line. Upon closer examination, they are not squeezed–they just fit. Like we’d all like to fit…and not be squeezed, not be forced.
Late December 2020 in the northern range of the Swiss Alps.
I crossed the line.
What? Which line?
Did I stop wearing a mask?
Did I stop supporting local populism?
Did I walk the wrong way on a one-way-street?
I stopped seeing winter as cold, naked and heartless. I stopped seeing winter as death to be abhorred.
Clouds gently drift into and pause in places we humans can not easily access.
What is freedom? What is science? What is clear? What is certain?
I think I can see the future.
Or, the trees with the forest?
Are we there yet? Have we made it through the clouds, through the forest?
…virgin? Take your pick.
This landscape has been labelled, the Jungfrau Region. The Jungfrau is the virgin. I see it differently. These are the Three Kings.
Mountain peaks from left to right, Eiger, Monch and Jungfrau.
But what I like most about this photo is the foreground. On the top of the center foreground hill, see below, is a place to have a cup of coffee and a piece of pie while enjoying unrestricted visual access to the Kings.
What happened to my beautiful autumn?
Today was one of those fall days when I just had to take a walk.
No mask. No distancing. Just a walk outdoors.
The fresh air keeps me from thinking why so many governments and media outlets want me to be afraid to breathe. Afraid to breathe? Yeah, because somebody might die. I have to be afraid of breathing? Doesn’t make sense.
So I took a walk. On a mountain path suitable for this 75yr old, three years after a stroke, nevertheless, in good health.
Clouds were everywhere. And they weren’t everywhere as I walked uphill.
I breathed deeply the air. The air was influenced by agriculture and forestry management. It was not influenced by bustling cities. When I inhaled deeply. The air felt clean and healthy deep down in my lungs. The entire passage felt clean and healthy.
To me that is not only the basis of life, it is the simplest pleasure of life. I was feeing refreshed, what to speak of fall color and 50 degrees Fahrenheit
Then I was in the clouds. I found myself walking in the sound of clouds. In case you haven’t, you should note that clouds come and go without sound. Without even the slightest whisper they come, they envelope, then they leave. Through the entire experience, the thread of sameness was silence.
But other things changed. As I walked deeper into the cloud, I saw less and less about me. My breathing became labored. Then my mind took over–had I been enveloped by a covid cloud? Hard to breathe–is this my end–is this the beginning of harder and harder breathing–never getting enough?
Then the cloud lifted. Clarity resumed. Unhindered deep breathing resumed. I was no longer afraid to breathe.
And speaking of stealth, I think my freedom to breathe healthy air deep into my lungs, under some debatable guise, may be in real life, stealthily taken from me.
…and root beer. I’m not eating or drinking them. I am seeing them in the forest.
I looked out the window today. Fall had snuck in, big time. Nearby a huge old linden tree was freely droping leaves. It made me think of snow flakes, large snow flakes drifting down on a day with no wind.
It was mid afternoon. There was still an autumnal warm sun. I had to take a walk.
It was time for me to get back home for dinner.