The Edge of the Known World

I came here to study hard things
– rock mountain and salt sea –
and to temper my spirit on their edges. 
“Teach me thy ways, O Lord” is, like all prayers,
a rash one, and one I cannot but recommend. 

These mountains — Mount Baker and the Sisters and Shuksan,
the Canadian Coastal Range and the Olympics on the peninsula — are surely the edge of the known and comprehended world…. 

That they bear their own unimaginable masses and weathers aloft, holding them up in the sky for anyone to see plain, makes them,
as Chesterton said of the Eucharist, only the more mysterious
by their very visibility and absence of secrecy.
~Annie Dillard (who lived in Whatcom County in the 70s) from Holy the Firm

Sometimes the mountain
is hidden from me in veils
of cloud, sometimes
I am hidden from the mountain
in veils of inattention, apathy, fatigue,
when I forget or refuse to go
down to the shore or a few yards
up the road, on a clear day,
to reconfirm
that witnessing presence.
~Denise Levertov  “Witness”

Even on the days like today when the mountains are hidden behind a veil of clouds, I have every confidence they are there.  They have not moved in the night, gone to another county, blown up or melted down.  My vision isn’t penetrating enough to see them through cloud cover today, but they will return to my line of sight, if not tomorrow, perhaps the next day, maybe not until next week. 

I know this and have faith it is true – the mountains do not keep themselves a secret.

On the days when I am not bothering to look for them, too preoccupied so walk right past their obvious grandeur and presence, then they reach out to me and call me back, refocusing me. 

There are times when I turn a corner on the farm and glance up, and there rests a mountain, a silent and overwhelming witness to beauty and steadfastness. I literally gasp at not noticing before, at not remembering how I’m blessed by it being there even at the times I can’t be bothered.

It witnesses my lack of witness and, so in its mysterious way of being in plain sight, stays put to hold me fast yet another day.  And so I keep coming back to gaze – sometimes just at clouds – yearning to lift their veil, and as a result, lift my veil, just one more time.

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Drawing a Fresh Breath

One sees great things from the valley,
only small things from the peak.
~G.K.Chesterton

Two things are yours that no man’s wealth can buy:
The air, and time;
And, having these, all fate you may defy,
All summits climb.

While you can draw the fresh and vital breath,
And own the day,
No enemy, not Hate, nor Fear, nor Death,
May bring dismay.

Breathe deeply! Use the minutes as they fly!
Trust God in all!
Thus will you live the life that cannot die,
Nor ever fall.

~Amos Russel Wells “Inalienable”

It is all a matter of perspective-
what we see from where we are standing,
whether on the peak or down in the valley.

We need to breathe deeply of this time,
wherever we are.

it takes great strength and determination to climb a peak,
looking down upon the valley left far below
where even mighty mountains seem diminished.

Yet what gives our lives most meaning,
what encourages our faith,
what instills our hope,
is how we are met by the Lord
in the deepest of valleys.

He dwells alongside us,
watching over us,
never leaving us,
always encouraging us
to lift our eyes to the hills

to gaze at His dream-like peaks above.

photo from the summit of Mt. Baker by Josh Scholten
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To Shut Out the Immensity

shuksan77180

 

He loved mountains,
or he had loved the thought of them marching
on the edge of stories brought from far away;
but now he was borne down by the insupportable weight of Middle-earth.
He longed to shut out the immensity in a quiet room by a fire.
~J.R.R Tolkien from Lord of the Rings 

 

shuksan77186

 

I am so high in the windy sun,
On the rock-boned back of the highest thing,
That the mountains under me, every one,
Are but wrinkled gestures …. westering.
~Thomas Hornsby Ferril from “One Mountain Hour”

 

 

shuksan77187

 

Surrounded as we are in the northwest by so much raw and rugged beauty, I’m easily overwhelmed.  My breath catches when I turn my face to these monoliths of stone and ice.

There is no sound up there except my heartbeat.  No birds.  Even breezes are silent with no trees or leaves to rustle.  Twenty foot walls of snow.

I am content to gaze at these peaks from afar, now and again to visit awed at their feet, to listen for their stories of near-eternity.

I always retreat back home chastened.

So infinitesimal among such immensity.

 

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I’m Glad I’m Here

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I believe you’ll be able to say, as I can say today: ‘I’m glad I’m here.’
Believe me, all of you, the best way to help the places we live in is to be glad we live there.

~Edith Wharton from Summer

 

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I’m reminded today and every day: I’m glad I’m here. I would choose no other place to be.

I’m especially thankful as I gaze out at this 360 degree landscape every morning and again as the evening light flames bright before fading at night.

This place — with its vast field vistas, its flowing grasses, its tall firs, its mountain backdrops — has been beautiful for generations of native people and homesteaders before I ever arrived thirty three years ago.

It will remain so for many more generations long after I am dust – gladness is the best fertilizer I can offer up to accompany God-given sun and rain.

May this land glow rich with gladness.

 

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Only More Mysterious

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I came here to study hard things – rock mountain and salt sea – and to temper my spirit on their edges.  “Teach me thy ways, O Lord” is, like all prayers, a rash one, and one I cannot but recommend.

These mountains — Mount Baker and the Sisters and Shuksan, the Canadian Coastal Range and the Olympics on the peninsula — are surely the edge of the known and comprehended world….

That they bear their own unimaginable masses and weathers aloft, holding them up in the sky for anyone to see plain, makes them, as Chesterton said of the Eucharist, only the more mysterious by their very visibility and absence of secrecy.
~Annie Dillard from Holy the Firm

 

sunset115182

 

Sometimes the mountain
is hidden from me in veils
of cloud, sometimes
I am hidden from the mountain
in veils of inattention, apathy, fatigue,
when I forget or refuse to go
down to the shore or a few yards
up the road, on a clear day,
to reconfirm
that witnessing presence.
~Denise Levertov  “Witness”

 

shuksan102169

 

Even on the days like today when the mountain is hidden behind a veil of clouds, I have every confidence it is there.  It has not moved in the night, gone to another county, blown up or melted down.  My vision isn’t penetrating enough to see it through cloud cover today, but it will return to my line of sight, if not tomorrow, perhaps the next day.  I know this and have faith it is true.

On the days when I am not bothering to look for it, too preoccupied so walk right past its obvious grandeur and presence, then it is reaching out to me and calling me back.  There are times when I turn a corner on the farm and glance up, and there it is, a silent and overwhelming witness to beauty and steadfastness.  I literally gasp at not noticing before, at not remembering how I’m blessed by it being there even at the times I can’t be bothered.

It witnesses my lack of witness and, so mysterious, stays put to hold me fast yet another day.  And so I keep coming back to gaze, sometimes just at clouds, yearning to lift the veil, and lift my veil, just one more time.

 

newyearsbaker

 

baker1222172

The Soft-Dying Day

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  baker1028

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
        Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;

While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
        And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue;

~John Keats, lines from “To Autumn”

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The Edge of the World

photo by Nate Gibson
photo by Nate Gibson

I came here to study hard things – rock mountain and salt sea – and to temper my spirit on their edges.  “Teach me thy ways, O Lord” is, like all prayers, a rash one, and one I cannot but recommend.  These mountains — Mount Baker and the Sisters and Shuksan, the Canadian Coastal Range and the Olympics on the peninsula — are surely the edge of the known and comprehended world….  That they bear their own unimaginable masses and weathers aloft, holding them up in the sky for anyone to see plain, makes them, as Chesterton said of the Eucharist, only the more mysterious by their very visibility and absence of secrecy.
~Annie Dillard from Holy the Firm

twins

photo by Nate Gibson
photo by Nate Gibson

thesistersatsunset

bakerjaneve3