What is the lure of the wild places? Magnificent vistas? The smell of the sage? A poetry of the dust and the sweat? A homecoming? Louis l'Amour and Alan Jackson? Guitars and banjos.
What draws us to the desolate, the empty places?
The cowboy within?
Brother Hermen sent some photos of his cattle drive. It put me into a state of introspection.
I am trying to understand this restlessness of spirit.
Away, away, up and beyond the common.
Is it a desire from deep inside that compels us to crave these things?
Or an image of ourselves that we have nurtured?
The smell of salt water and the crash of the surf?
Colourful fishing boats and celtic flutes?
The artist within?
The allure of decrepit abandoned buildings.
Old farmhouses, someone else's dream long forgotten?
The historian within?
The need to hike past the mountain meadows to the peaks beyond.
Alpine flowers and mountain goats?
The mountaineer within?
The urge to take the gravel roads? To slowly wind through unfamiliar countryside?
Eyeing real estate and weighing possibilities?
The pioneer within?
I am trying to understand. Is it an image that is created for oneself? Perhaps a little.
Is it selfish? Perhaps, a little, but it doesn't have to be.
It can be shared and nurtured within our families.
Exposing the grandeur of the Father Creator
to the child created within.
Is it from the heart? God breathed? I believe so.
The response to wild and lonely that leaves one breathless
with a lump in the throat and a bursting heart.
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