Earlier this month I spent almost two weeks in Wyoming. After an emergency landing in Idaho Falls and an Uber ride through Teton Pass, we arrived in Jackson.
Raised on the coast, I’ve always thought of myself as an ocean girl. Never intimidated, but always at home, I’m among the first to walk into the water and swim. Like, really really swim. Waves crashing, over, under, and around me. It’s not uncommon for a lifeguard to whistle and wave me back in closer to shore.
And let’s not forget my favorite poem by Jack Spicer,”Any fool can get into the ocean, but it takes a goddess to get out of one.”
I feel strong in the water and the sea makes sense to me.
But the mountains are different. The mountains quieted me. And instead of strong, I felt small next to them. Surrounded by something so unfamiliar and so overwhelming that I often felt speechless.
To describe them as majestic seems pithy. And I didn’t feel like a goddess next to them. But it’s impossible to stand at their feet and not feel, just a little, bit more noble.