Love Letter to Father Sky ‘Neath Big Interior Mountain

Here I honour BC’s alpine skies, moving through Tai Chi’s 4 elements from within Strathcona Park’s infinite Big Bowl Interior. The day’s insistent mosquitoes hummed audience to my raw meditation after my travelling companions (as part of Strathcona Park Lodge’s Canadian Outdoor Adventure Program) left to summit Big Interior Mountain. I stayed behind, trusting what I presently needed: a day of rest and healing with Mother Earth and Father Sky.

Accompanying music: “Faces” by Armand Amar (sung in ancient Persian ای روز برآ که ذره‌ها رقص کنند، آن کس که از او چرخ و هوا رقص کنند جان‌ها ز خوشی بی سر و پا رقص کنند، در گوش تو گویم که کجا رقص کنند- translation below)

Elevated by the healing winds of these coastal wilds, this restful reflection accompanied this courageous day I spent solo back in July of 2018:

As cirrus skies keep waking eyes on Big Mountain Interior and her bowl, eleven outdoor enthusiasts with ambitions to summit her frosty exterior leave me to breathe freely.

Watching shadows dance over white rock, fog vanishing treetops, she whispers support through her tapestry of green.

I see Indian paintbrush and monkey flower speckled moss, squeezing through gradient cracks.

I hear crocking frog and curious black bear thirstily sharing glacier-fed streams.

From the tallest camp I watched them all depart at seven. Their progress like ants, climbing with yesterday’s rope and crevasse rescue new found knowledge; ice-axe in hand, crampons on feet.

Without expectation, I thrive in my found solitude with Nature and all of her creations.

From just outside a sturdy shelter, I stir oatmeal and steep relaxation in thyme with the local lichen, grateful for nowhere else to be. Plenty of hours to mindfully free-climb class 4 rock-face and veggie-belay to satisfy my desire to explore.

With a renewing appreciation for myself, and a deepening understanding of weather patterns, I extend into sky. Watching advection fog roll in, out, then in again… I note how her writes with an air of Steven King mystery. Seeing accumulating cumulus-nimbus clouds approaching, I suspect rain will surely follow.

From this false summit, I gain a higher perspective; to accept my physical limitations and feed on this day in silent attention. I find my present truth in their outdoor classroom, with Mother Earth and Father Sky, and the wisdom to map out the micro-visionary wonders of it all, one rotation at a thyme.

Even two years after this experience, I honour its wild found freedom, like Armand Amar’s “Faces” sings of its dance:

ای روز برآ که ذره‌ها رقص کنند، آن کس که از او چرخ و هوا رقص کنند جان‌ها ز خوشی بی سر و پا رقص کنند، در گوش تو گویم که کجا رقص کنند هر ذره که در هوا و در هامونست، نیکو نگرش که همچو ماه مفتون است هر ذره اگر خوشست، اگر محزون است، سرگشته‌ی خورشیدِ خوش ِبی‌چون است :

O-day, let every atom dance, the ones from whom the wheel and the air dance. Let the souls dance happily, I tell you where to dance. Every single particle of the air, of our good air, is intriguing and fascinating as the moon 🌙🌝 Every single particle of Mother Nature, whether pleasant or sad, is the bewilderment of the beautiful sun☀️💥