Over 2 years ago, I could not even walk.
1 year ago a goal was set to walk 8 km to see a second 7 wonder of the world. At this point, I would not have been able to do it.
2 years, 10 months have passed. I set out early this morning with my good friend, China. We donned our backpacks and gear for a good day's hike. The weather seems to be holding. It is not too cold, and most certainly not hot. I just hope it doesn't rain and no fog.
The place of destination is a subluxation plate that shifted in the Earth over 1 million years ago. Creating a colossal monumental array of massive fallen stones.
The way up is long and unsafe in certain areas. The marsh is wet and footing is a key thing, along with balance. Most certainly something I lacked over a year ago. Upon arrival, it is almost as if you enter into a surreal state. The area seems out of place with the rest of the normal surroundings. It is quiet, and possibly even eerie in its lacking of sounds. Now that I think of it, there were no birds or other fauna around. Yet the flora was superb, with a vast amount of berries for picking. Good thing we brought some containers to collect blueberries, cranberries, some other type I am not familiar with.
A river runs through it, and has created little ponds among the fallen creation. Fresh drinking water flowing down in between, full of minerals.
There is a book at the final location. A book you can write your name in. I couldn't help think of the books of Myst, the environment having that same quality. It was absolutely amazing. Definitely worth a year of painstaking rehabilitation. Definitely worth the long hike out. As a monumental achievement for myself, I wrote my name down on that weathered paper.
I sighed and looked around and then spoke to my friend, "To me this day serves a purpose of determination and achievement. A beginning of a new journey through this point in my life and forward". She in return stated,
"I am honored to share this accomplishment with you."
With the first snows, for some reason I think of baroque and classical musics. I much appreciate the arts of great symphony and well constructed music of poetic form. But when the temperature steeps low and the horizons resemble that of the deep blues of the ocean in the sky, I can't help but think of tunes that once filled grand halls.
Halls for dancing, masquerading, balls. Social gatherings set by candelabra light and decadent chandeliers, along with giant wood burning fireplaces encrusted with intricate detail for hearths. The setting almost always depicting the cold winters, or closing holidays, or just shear mystery and pleasure. Spectacular visual effects, theatrical energy, grand stairways, high buttresses, sensual illusions, embellishment of clothings, masks.
Ah... and the music which covered this time span, just brilliant for a forlane or menuet. Grandeur in artistry from patterns and curvature. An emotional elaboration of what life had become, an era between shades of light and dark.
Festive behind closed double doors with no care to the outside world, which had been laid to rest for the season with the white covering of snow.
The snow falls daintily along with the Brandenburg Concerto, mimicking dancers of precision. Their full costumes of the century gliding over polished ornate floors, in the past times of great musicians echoing within grand halls.
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