A long, dark, quiet, tunnel that runs underneath the mountains. Two girls having fun taking pictures. They see a man approaching slowly from the other end of the tunnel but don’t give it much thought, until he’s right next to them. He’s mumbling incoherently and the only word they catch is “jail”. It’s the same pattern of speech over and over, in spite of their attempts to ask him if he’s ok. He’s bigger than they are and not many people are around, so as he steps closer they know their best option is to get out of there.
They calmly gather their things and excuse their selves away from the man. He watches as they head down the tunnel. As they approach the center of the tunnel, the lights overhead go out, leaving them in total darkness, save for the literal, distant light at the end of the tunnel. Daring a glance behind them they see the man is still in the tunnel and they can’t tell if he’s following or only watching. A fit of laughter overtakes them at the ridiculousness of the situation, and laughing is better than crying in panic.
Finally out of the tunnel and safely in the sunlight the friend decides to call the police to have them check on the man in the tunnel in case he’s lost or truly dangerous. Only to discover there’s no signal and then the realization that at some point they are going to have to walk back through that tunnel.
That was my Saturday afternoon folks!
The mountains are our mother, ever fixed and strict. She teaches us the hard lessons, the pain of birth and death. She makes us earn the roof over our head and the food in our belly through the sweat and blood of a hard days work. She teaches us the unfairness of life by the crop destroying heavy rains and drought.
She sings us to sleep with her gentle winds and distant calls of whipporwhills. She teaches us gratitude when we can sit in the porch rocker at the end of the day and simply be. She teaches us to persevere just as the tiny creeks flow and carve out deeper trenches through the ancient rock that is her foundation.
She gives us rich soil and woods full of herbs to heal what is broken. And when all hope is lost, she reminds you to turn to the Creator of it all.
We grow up saying we can’t wait to get out from under her watchful eye and her scolding switch. When we leave, we find nothing can bring us comfort like she gave. And so, we return. No longer taking for granted her little joys and lessons we once would have scoffed or overlooked.
Those who leave and never return were never hers to begin with. Not truly, for those of us who go back through all our generations know this where our blood started and this is where it will someday end. We will one day feed her with our blood and bones just as she has fed us.
She is our mountain mother who has watched over us with her bowed back and worn hands. She has sacrificed for us, she has let us tear the coal from her body and the trees from her dress so we could live. And as any mother, she loves us, she holds us tightly to her protective breast and when we leave, she lets us know we will always have a home back here with her.
I love writing fiction. I am never at a loss of stories to tell (with my writing, not out loud!) and characters to explore. However when it comes to writing ideas for my blog I am at a total loss. I could ramble about the goings on in my life, story ideas, herbs and lifestyle things but there would be no real rhyme or reason to it and I just don’t feel like it would be that interesting. So I had an idea. Many years ago I bought a book and card set meant to be used for journaling. I did use it for a while and enjoyed the process. The set is called Book of Exploration by Charlene Geiss and Claudia Jessup. You randomly choose a card with a writing prompt, then read the corresponding book page before journaling. I decided once a week I will pull a card from the deck and that will be the subject of my blog. Here goes nothing.
The card I drew is Three Years from Now.
The things you do or don’t do today are the seeds you are planting for tomorrow.
First of all I would be pretty ok if not much changes in my life in three years. Life is never perfect but mine is good and I’m grateful. Nothing would make me happier than spending my time writing, decorating, tending to gardens all the around the house and doing fun things with my family. I have hopes my book/s will be successful but I don’t need to be rich and famous. I would like to travel and do a few book signings though, that would be pretty amazing. But three years ago I couldn’t have imagined I would be where I am, so it’s my hope three years from now life will be more incredible than I can picture.
I feel I’m on the right path and I’m going to keep on doing what I’m doing. I want to continue to plant seeds of success and happiness because as far as I’m concerned I already have both.
“Life is a promise; fulfill it.” Mother Teresa