I like these mountains quite a lot. They are purple, green, and brown, and their proddings into heaven are very brave. I marveled at them as another solstice ticked by, and at the white rushing mountain rivers that clearly embody the spirit of the West. I think I have the spirit of the West too. I have fallen for these mountains and their coursing white-water capillaries.
In California, at this altitude, I identify with the beat-writer Gary Snyder. After learning about Zen in a monastery in Japan, Snyder returned to the U.S. to work on trail crews in the Sierras. Snyder also fell for these mountains, and he saw his labor on their flanks to be a realization of Nirvana. I've wondered whether my hoeing and painting and walking and planning are realizations of Nirvana. Of course I can't be sure, but it's been damn beautiful, and the mountains don't ask many questions about Nirvana. They just sit--perched on the earth, nudging the sky.
Oh Caitlin, I love mountains so much, too, and rolling hills bristling with corn and wheat. It was ecstatic to drive across Route I-80 this past two weeks. I wish I could have gotten out and stopped to paint awhile.
ReplyDeleteI just realized I have Gary Snyder's book, "the Dancing Wu Lu Masters" on cassette tape. It's one of my favorite from many years ago. Think I'll listen to it again. (If I can find it)
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