Last night while reading William deBuys’ wonderful book, The Walk, I came upon his passages about the mountains—specifically, about the peaks. That would be Trampas, Jicarilla, Sheepshead, North Truchas, Middle Truchas and, finally, South Truchas Peaks.
I see, from my land, from my windows, Truchas Peaks. They form the basis from which I live. They ground me. And they inspire me to soar. They soothe in times of trouble and leave me awestruck always. It is a privilege to live at their root. Every time of day or year, every season, they change. And yet they are the constant in my life here. They generously give their grace and energy, no matter what mood I may bring.
Of the peaks deBuys says, “I live with that view and seek it the way I seek the companionship of friends.” Yes, indeed. Sometimes I feel my friendship with the mountain is my primary relationship here—the reason I am. deBuys adds, “The sacred line of these peaks… is written on the deed of my soul.”
He expresses my feelings better than I could ever hope to when he says, “The mountains rise not like a thing, but like the spirit behind things, or like spiritedness itself. They rise like meaning. They rise with purpose and clarity. They rise like a promise of understanding in an ambiguous and paradoxical world. They rise not like hope itself, but like the promise that something as grand as hope might exist. The mountains rise like meaning to the sky.”
I never thought of myself as a mountain person. I’ve always been drawn to large bodies of water—Puget Sound, the ocean. But Spirit brought me to this place unknowing, because I AM of the mountains.
I draw something vital from the energy at their core. As deBuys says, “… the feeling of the walk is different now because the peaks are with me. They anchor the edges of the world, and they guarantee a limit to the drift and strangeness of things. They are behind me and available, if I need to see them, and they rise like meaning to the sky.”
Love to you all,