The clouds are lower in Canada. They seem to slowly open their mouth and envelop the tops of the mountains like they're the chin of someone else. At least that’s how I think of it. Micah will slowly do that sometimes to me to be silly and weird, leaving my chin moist. I know just how the mountains feel.
I muse about this stuff during long car rides, and that thought came to me while leaving native land in Canada and driving back to Vancouver after a conference.
I look out the window constantly when driving. Even if the scenery doesn’t change much. I peek out and take it all in systematically and tuck it away in my brain, chewing on it as the drive goes on.
I particularly like open fields. I dream of just pulling over and hopping out, wading into whatever is out there: sand, tall grass, snow (well, maybe not snow so much – I am from southern California). Just listening to the silence. Being present in that very quiet moment and opening my soul.
It’s like my senses are heightened in the silent – like my chest is gaping as wide as my mouth as I inhale my surroundings with my whole being.
Sometimes, I don’t really understand myself or the things that drive me. But I’ll try to create more moments where I can live in my instincts and let my inhibitions fade to black.
Creating opportunities to connect with others can compare to these moments – whereas usually you find yourself tucking away from asking that solitary person you always see on that park bench what they’re doing the rest of the day, or buying a sandwich for the hungry guy sitting outside the grocery.
Live in those passionate moments – the moments where you’re not sure where that nudge is coming from but you do it anyway.
Those moments build connectivity. Those moments reclaim humanity. Those moments bridge who you’re forcing yourself to be and who you probably really are.
Look for your next inclination – open your soul wide. Act and listen. Pull the car over and get out.
Below are photos from this weekend when I did just that in Palm Springs.