I know this view well. The brown lodges that dot this valley and the evergreens that clothe the surrounding mountains. I’ve eaten in these dining halls and touched pine cones that rest on the ground under these trees.
Mountain mornings are unlike mornings elsewhere. I love to move my hands through this air and watch the swiftness in the flight of these birds.
I’m in the YMCA of the Rockies in Estes Park, CO. Since 96 I’ve spent a week out of every third summer here for a youth conference my family has been involved in. We set up shop just before the Christian Artists Seminar swoops in, and I’ve often overlapped my time at both. People come here for conferences, sure, but mostly I like to think they come because they are drawn here.
And I know some’ll tell me it’s the elevation...but I also like to think that I am more aware of my breathing up here because I am more aware of my aliveness. more aware of the gift i’ve been given to breath, to taste and to see.
I know some’ll tell me it’s the time change... but I like to think it’s the nearness of God’s creation that opens my eyes early in the day, to awaken me wholly.
Right now there is a baby crying, some band playing in a nearby lodge, a dog barking, and the conversation of a family sitting in the bench beside mine, but that is okay. It still feels quieter up here. Internally, anyway.
I blame the mountains. They are louder than any noise I could make.