This blog has been fairly quiet recently, because I took a few weeks to myself to embark upon a good old fashioned road trip, sans computer. Or, rather, my computer (which I couldn’t quite bring myself to leave behind) lay unloved and unused in a backpack in the trunk of my car for most of the journey. It was as proximal to a digital-free world as I am likely to achieve.
On my journey, I passed through the Adirondacks, which are as close to pristine wilderness as one is likely to encounter on the U.S. Eastern Coast. No road signs on the highways, very few electrical wires, and a scant few dwellings mar the unbroken horizon of crystal clear lakes set among pine-green mountains. The air felt alive with the energy of growing things. My breath was deep, slow, relaxed, cleansing. Birds of every size soared above me. I knew that nestled in the woodlands were beings that have disappeared from far too much of this world–moose, wolves, beavers, foxes–who could drink from such waters in relative safety.
I have mountain spirit running through my blood. I feel at home among them. They are my friends, my soul-mates. My gypsy heart longs to be with them again, discovering their hidden secrets and keeping them sacred.
Sadly, the Adirondacks beckoning me home were only a layover on a journey to Montreal. The cityscape, by sharp comparison, was a harsh world of pavement, glass and steel scraping the sky, traffic jams, multi-national corporation headquarters, and fashionista clothing districts aglow with the surreal light of neon lettering.
Even my breath here, in this manufactured place of en masse human habitation, was crowded and fast-paced.
In my heart, I mourned for all the growing things that have to die to make place for our race.