I cannot afford to waste my time making money. (Louis Aggasiz, Swiss Naturalist)
I forget who told me about the mountain. But sometime in the past week, a passing comment about Agassiz which I’d gone off to find this Sunday afternoon.
An old abandoned house at the bottom of the road. A steep climb up an old paved road.
Its warm. Unseasonably and not a right kind of warm. 70 degrees here in early November. At church this morning thank you’s for warm weather and concern about the weather. Something feels wrong, very wrong that I can’t just feel good about.
The old road is steep. I stop at the bench half way up to take off my outer shirt. Tee shirt weather in November.
Along the road, snags offer themselves to the wind and birds. I pause to place my hands here, drawn to them in this season of my life. I want to live like this, as an offering.
Along the road after church, a vibrant crowd at the crossroads with signs standing for the integrity of women’s rights over their own bodies. All these years later and still bodies – Black Bodies, Brown Bodies, Women’s bodies, LGBTQ bodies are under surveillance and attack. A little group out there this afternoon offering themselves where they never expected we’d be again. I’m glad to meet them. Glad to stand with them for a while.
The old road continues up, up
Past the chattering of an insistent squirrel –
Keep going, keep going.