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  • Writer's pictureChiara

Solo On The Ledge

Mt. Adams ~ August 2011

I am alone, and I am not. Not really.

That sweet bird perched atop this chartreuse moss-covered tree, the one broken clean off by the elements, quite possibly so that I may have an unobstructed view of the distant jagged peaks above the forests below. That suspicious creature, with her nervous searching glances, peers at me sitting silently on this craggy precipice, where before there was only a warm breeze embracing vistas of magnificent greens and blues, healing colors of nature.

I am certain she is female; she has the ilk of determined multi-tasking energy so familiar to our gender. Interesting how much time and attention she has afforded me from her less than languid life. She leaves me.

Today, this morning, I shall be languid for her. I have the time to move slowly or not at all. The rare lack of tasks, allowing me to breathe in the pleasure of this soothing alpine air, time to listen to soft sounds of insects, the clickety-click cadence of the shrub-hopper’s song sounds like a sprinkler system in some cul de sac far from here. Even the mosquito’s whine has become harmonious to my ears now that I have ceased resisting them, perhaps my detached expansive demeanor doesn’t emit an attracting scent that favors a landing.

And this tiny curious chipmunk, a highlander of a different stripe, scooting up over the ledge to investigate what was not here before, definitely primal male, surveying, establishing and protecting the perimeter of his domain. We all belong here, even me a visitor, a stranger from outside this natural circle, as curious to them as they are to me. Satisfied that I am neither food nor threat. He leaves me now as well.

I am alone and I am not. Not really.

My heart longs to satisfy its deep desire to embrace, fall in love with and merge with the pine-scented breeze, the just-right warmth of the sun, the distant snowy peak, the lush verdant greens of these trees dressed in moss garments, the sloping hillside, the pastures and meadows beyond. Behind me, the stark glacial ice, mirrored in the still pond below, the rocks substantial, patient, comforting in their steady antiquity, clouds leisurely drifting across the sky, subtly changing the hue, the tone, the aperture of the vista. I love falling in love.

This solo, a song not so different from my every-day journeying in the world. There can be beauty in every moment; wonder in every breath, serenity is a choice.

I am alone but I am not. Not really.

I can carry a tune, sing my part in perfect harmony, join the chorus, learn the lyrics or create a new melody. Or I can sing solo. My heart decides. I have the courage to follow my heart.


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