Snow Covered Mountains

 

‘To all of it I have given my effort and my love. In imagination I can feel the feather

touch of snowflakes on my face, feel the freezing water of the lagoon enfolding me,

on a hot summer day, and I would celebrate it all.’

- Elyne Mitchell

 

            Today is a perfect spring day. Blue skies and not a breath of wind. Calm. The sun shining brightly with warmth in the air. There is still so much snow on the mountains and it is the middle of October. I have walked up the hill to marvel at it. 

            This year the cold has lasted longer with so much rain. The valley is lush. The dams are full. The grass is thick. Growing up, I always wished the winter cold away. Pining for the heat of summer. Swimming in the creek. Backyard cricket. Summer holidays.

Since the devastation of the bush fires, the harsh reality of hot, dry weather, has made me appreciate the other seasons. To value and understand their purpose. We need the winter. The cold, the snow, the wind and rain. Frost filled valleys are necessary. Fog has its place in nature’s cycle. This is what most concerns me about the climate crisis we face. I am concerned the Australian government is not doing enough to protect our future and our precious seasons. 

Sometimes the enormity of the problem seems overwhelming. Then I’m reminded there are answers. I see my roof covered in solar power. The compost. My water tanks. My imperfect attempt to minimise my personal impact. In my frustration, I remind myself that I can only control my choices. We also have power in our choices, our voice and our vote. Hopefully there’s more people like me, with the same concern. Hopefully there is a call for change on a global scale and that call is answered in time. We have a window of opportunity. I hope we take it.

I hope we take it, so one day when my son is old and grey, he can stand on this same mountain. He can stand here too and look out in the middle of October and marvel at the beauty of snow-covered mountains. 

Treasure

Beau

You are a delight 

Who likes to give me a fright

You are brave and strong

Always dance to your own song

Old and wise

Always keep that sparkle in your eyes

Funny and cheeky

Cherish the moment, as it is fleeting

Such an intelligent mind

You are thoughtful and kind

Endless energy

Loved by a big family 

One of a kind

Dream big my boy

There will be treasure to find

The Door Wasn’t Even Locked

My nearly five-year-old son, Beau, broke his leg recently. He has been in a full cast of plaster, for five weeks now. As the weeks have dragged on and boredom has well and truly set in, he has become increasingly more resistant to the limitations of his plaster. Beau’s desire to move and play has been stronger than his understanding of the plaster’s intention to keep him still, to help him heal. So, I’ve watched him bum shuffle. Drag his plaster around the floor. Crawl on all fours. Now hobbling at times. Despite my constant pleas to not move. Despite the constant chorus of me saying, ‘Beau, don’t put pressure on that plaster. Slow down.’ He finds a way. No injury. No plaster, will stop him from living his best life.

As I watched him last night, crawling on all fours and kicking his Melbourne Demon’s football using his plaster, I started to think. How many times in our lives do we let a perceived plaster, injury or limitation allow us to remain caged, immobile and stultified? What if we allowed desire to be stronger than our barriers?

Glennon Doyle described it so well in Untamed, when she explained,

‘What was wrong with me? Why did I stay and suffer? The door wasn’t even locked.’

I keep thinking, after the plaster is off, we will do this and be able to do that. Beau just does what he can, now. He finds a way. I told him he couldn’t move with the plaster, without me carrying him or the wheelchair. He didn’t listen to me, but instead listened to his own deep desire within, to move, to kick his footy and found a way.

I feel inspired by Beau’s determination, but equally disappointed that our wild natures get tamed. As we grow, we see what we can’t do, what is restricting us, rather than the opportunities. Our fear becomes stronger than our desire. Our fear becomes stronger than our love. Love for simple things, like kicking a footy.

So, I’m letting Beau teach me. I’m learning the wisdom of my wild child. When I feel like I can’t, I’ll think of a blonde-haired boy, kicking his Melbourne Demon’s football in a full cast of plaster. I’ll be reminded. We can all find the determination to live our dream lives with such wild desire.

I’ll be reminded. When I said the door was closed. Beau tested the handle and realised it wasn’t even locked.