Changing Seasons

The rain broke for a short while today, so I decided to go for a run down along the water. As I ran along Beach Road I couldn't help but notice that the mountain tops across the fjord where peaking out of the coulds, and I was struck with how amazingly beautiful this place is. The more I thought about it, I feel like my whole life has been spent diving myself into wilder and wilder places, until I ended up living in Alaska, in the last frontier. It's almost been as if there was a blessing laid on me many years ago that I was destined to seek the wilder places in the world, and to come to know what makes wildness beautiful, and how live and love can be stemmed from what seems to be just rugged chaos. 

For those who have spent time in these wild places you know what I mean, and you know that there are unnumberable lessons that come from just being there. One of them is that you become so dependent on the weather and the season that your body and soul can feel when they start to change. This feeling comes even before russling leaves, or grey skies, or even the change in the wind. There is a change in the air that is completely untangible to those who haven't learned how to look for it. 

I got that feeling today, not about the land so much as about my time in and on it. What happens when the wilderness stops being wild? What happens when the place that has been foreign to any person becomes home? I don'the think  this answer can be the same for everyone. For me, I know that there is something sturring in my world, something that sends me from one proverbial wilderness to another, creeping closer and closer to the very edges of myself. 

I can feel the winds sturing, and there is another wilderness on the horizon, but I guess I'll have to wait for the rain to fall before I know where or what it is.