Time Out ... To Refresh

Starting this blog has been draining.  Intense.  I wanted a voice. Yet, I didn't expect it to take so much out of me.  I thought starting with my ramblings re:   Who Am I? would simply be a means of introducing myself.  I didn't expect the powerful emotions, the intensity that poured our of my soul into my fingertips.  Writing words as fast, nay faster even, than I could think.  Like the molten lava inside a volcano ignited by gases, the emotions took on a life of their own, forcing their way out to the open, pouring in streams leaving me open and drained.

So today, I need to rest.  To go back to those places where I found peace.  To those images which bring back good memories.  Which restore my soul.   To remember a leisurely walk by myself to the Parry Sound Harbour, looking up at the railroad trestle as I passed beneath.  Seeing the blue sky above.  The scattering of white clouds.  Feeling the tranquility of being able to pursue my own path for that moment.  To go where my feet took me.  To take pictures.  To enjoy what God had created.  To be me.

To remember that stillness in the early fall when the tourists have gone and Algonquin Park prepares itself for winter.  Where it is just hubby, myself and my camera.  Drinking in the tranquility.  Enjoying the barrenness of the fall as much as the verdancy of the summer.  A different experience.  One I treasure.

To go back to that place where I watched the sun go down filling the sky with glorious reds and yellows.  Backlighting the cloud on the right in such a way that it looked (to me) like an eagle.  Eagles fly high.  They are powerful.  Solitary.  Magnificent.  I imagine what it would be like to be an eagle, flying high, conserving energy on the currents of air.  I smile.  I feel at peace.



I remember the day hubby and I went to Snug Harbour on Georgian Bay (sometimes referred to as the fifth Great Lake) and there I saw this butterfly.  I was mesmerized by its beauty.  Its size.  Its colour.  I drank in the beauty afraid to spoil this moment by taking out my camera.  Knowing that if I did, the butterfly would sense my movement not as wanting to preserve that moment.  Not as wanting to record this for memory.  But as a threat.  After some moments, I cautiously took out the camera.  Turned it on.  The butterfly stayed at its task.  Allowed me to preserve that moment for times like this.  Times when I need to remember.  To reflect on the good.

I remember the day my cousin and I took a day trip to Grandfather Mountain, North Carolina to walk the Mile High Swinging Bridge.  To get there, we drove up a series of switchbacks.  Narrow.  Dangerous.  Yet exhilarating.  Once there, before walking on the bridge (a challenge for both of us), we stood at the edge.  Cameras in hand.  Looking down, back at the way we had come.  Snapping at the snake we had just travelled up on.  Proud of ourselves that we had made it that far. Encouraged to go that next step farther into our fears.




This brief respite refreshes me.  Encourages me to go another step farther.  To walk into today.  To remember.  To not be afraid.