Watching a beautiful sunrise from afar…a vista that is hard to describe in words. That’s what many a pro photographer captures by getting up obscenely early or hanging around late afternoon for just the right light, assuming no rogue clouds will drift and spoil the party. You don’t see details or touch the beauty.
Hiking the trails deep within the bowels of a place is where you meet it intimately. Touching the inner being, running fingertips across its intricate details that after a while you can interpret like a blind person reading braille. Second nature; when all else is removed and you are immersed in detail. Such an odd fact that down in the trenches you can’t see the big picture, or the vista. Doesn’t seem as pretty but you’ll discover what it’s really all about.
But you don’t end up leaving with euphoria that turns to emptiness, like there is something more, something deeper that was missed. It parallels with satisfaction of digging into details of any endeavor. Not just starting, enjoying the initial euphoria, and moving on when details change over to cumbersome. A special sense of accomplishment is waiting at the end of a project, like the pot of gold that most never see because they don't chase their personal rainbow past the uncomfortable storms that precede it.
I love to touch the rocks, count the different types of pine cones, watch nature unfold at its own pace, rock-hop over a stream so deep into the woods that voices and road noise are a distant memory, while I immerse myself in a strange new world. Nature has a way of healing the wounds of life.