One Month Later
I can hardly believe that it has been an entire month since last I wrote. One month ago, I wasn’t yet in possession of a large piece of paper certifying that I had completed my doctorate. One month ago, I hadn’t yet packed up my worldly possessions and loaded them onto a truck. One month ago, I was in Topeka.
In the intervening period, I went through with my planned, cross-country move to the Pacific Northwest. Despite the nearly 2000 mile distance from Kansas to Washington, my brother and I managed to drive it all in just over 24 hours without stopping. There were many times during which I wished it would have been light outside so that I could have seen the magnificent views I remembered from my prior drive to Seattle. I recall the snow-capped mountains of the Rockies - so grey, immediate, and terrible in their majesty - and the endless rolling plains of southern Wyoming. All of these slipped by unnoticed in the black of the night. When at last dawn broke, my brother and I were in Idaho. I still found myself entranced by the rugged beauty of the Cascade mountains as we passed through them, and let me tell you, the name is apt. For a span of several miles as we drove through the mountains, towering granite cliffs (hundreds of feet high) roared up on the side of the highway - their dark and forbidding surfaces punctuated by massive waterfalls tumbling down the rocks (the spray of which wet the car windshield).
Now that I am north of Seattle, it is hard for me to focus on life outside of my senses. The raw and rugged beauty of the world here is nearly intoxicating. To see the mountains out the window, to see the pointed treetops of a vast evergreen forest between the mountains and me, to see a lone white heron preening and standing serenely atop a neighbor's house, paused momentarily in its flight to more suitable fishing grounds, to see the shining and sparkling waves on the Puget Sound… it’s hard to imagine a feeling of being more in step with the world around me. It’s almost as if I am an interloper who has wandered into the middle of a fantastic symphony being played in concert by nature. I can only stand in awe and hope not to be noticed.
And it isn’t simply the beauty of the land here that has enthralled me. There is a definite cultural aspect to living in this part of the country which is deeply appealing to me. In the past week, I have been to a book-reading at a local bookstore, and I also heard a well-known author (Christopher Hitchens) discuss his book and philosophy at the Seattle Town Hall (where he answered a large number of questions from the audience concerning a recent controversial book he has written). Apart from the cultural opportunities, I’m finding the ecological and health-minded nature of Northwesterners to be refreshing.
In short, all is well in my life right now - if only all of my worldly goods would hurry up and arrive in that big fancy moving truck.
In the intervening period, I went through with my planned, cross-country move to the Pacific Northwest. Despite the nearly 2000 mile distance from Kansas to Washington, my brother and I managed to drive it all in just over 24 hours without stopping. There were many times during which I wished it would have been light outside so that I could have seen the magnificent views I remembered from my prior drive to Seattle. I recall the snow-capped mountains of the Rockies - so grey, immediate, and terrible in their majesty - and the endless rolling plains of southern Wyoming. All of these slipped by unnoticed in the black of the night. When at last dawn broke, my brother and I were in Idaho. I still found myself entranced by the rugged beauty of the Cascade mountains as we passed through them, and let me tell you, the name is apt. For a span of several miles as we drove through the mountains, towering granite cliffs (hundreds of feet high) roared up on the side of the highway - their dark and forbidding surfaces punctuated by massive waterfalls tumbling down the rocks (the spray of which wet the car windshield).
Now that I am north of Seattle, it is hard for me to focus on life outside of my senses. The raw and rugged beauty of the world here is nearly intoxicating. To see the mountains out the window, to see the pointed treetops of a vast evergreen forest between the mountains and me, to see a lone white heron preening and standing serenely atop a neighbor's house, paused momentarily in its flight to more suitable fishing grounds, to see the shining and sparkling waves on the Puget Sound… it’s hard to imagine a feeling of being more in step with the world around me. It’s almost as if I am an interloper who has wandered into the middle of a fantastic symphony being played in concert by nature. I can only stand in awe and hope not to be noticed.
And it isn’t simply the beauty of the land here that has enthralled me. There is a definite cultural aspect to living in this part of the country which is deeply appealing to me. In the past week, I have been to a book-reading at a local bookstore, and I also heard a well-known author (Christopher Hitchens) discuss his book and philosophy at the Seattle Town Hall (where he answered a large number of questions from the audience concerning a recent controversial book he has written). Apart from the cultural opportunities, I’m finding the ecological and health-minded nature of Northwesterners to be refreshing.
In short, all is well in my life right now - if only all of my worldly goods would hurry up and arrive in that big fancy moving truck.
posted by The Academian | 9:59 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home