autumn's beginnings.

i remember the days when my soul welcomed autumn. when my heart rejoiced in the arrival of crimson and saffron on the trees. in hues so poetically harmonious with the season's blue skies.

i remember the days when my soul yearned for autumn. when my eyes craved changing colours. even amidst a land of vibrant, eternal summertime.

yet i've observed a certain hesitancy towards the season this year. wishing summertime would again be eternal. knowing autumn. as beautiful as it will be. will be a mere flicker. a fleeting transition to a long winter. of coldness. of darkness. something in my soul has seemed quite resistent towards winter. to the point of overshadowing my adoration of autumn.

yet recent wanderings amidst the transforming tundra have inspired a rekindling of that love. observing a spectrum of shades. from deep burgundy. to glowing goldenrod. and everything in between. intermingled with present, but fading summer greens. the same colours i remember falling in love with. but instead of on the trees. the colours appear right where our feet pass. further reminders that this is indeed sacred ground.

and my soul seemed to remember the beauty of autumn. all over again. as quickly as the season may pass. it is meant to be embraced. to be celebrated. and as suddenly as winter may arrive, we must remember. winter has a mysterious beauty of its own. but we mustn't let worry of what will be cloud our appreication of what is. especially with regard to things beyond our control. like changing seasons.

and as we hiked amidst the early autumn tundra. there were things beyond our control. namely an ever increasing fog. reminding me of foggy autumn hikes of days gone by. where we continued blindly. following the path set before our feet. yet here, there is no path. and there is grave danger of getting lost in enveloping fog. and though i desperately wished to continue our journey toward the intended endpoint. in my innocent idealism. or foolishness. i eventually had to succumb to the wisdom and practicality of my fellow sojourners. so we turned around. much to my disappointment.

yet the journey soon began to speak. of the value of knowing when to let go. of the wisdom of being open to unexpected expereinces. of the beauty of the journey regardless of its outcome. i just hope my soul was listening.

and so i give thanks. for the chance to be amidst the colours of autumn. for wise traveling companions. for the present moment. the present season. the present journey. and whatever joys it brings.

beyond words.

this afternoon, we filled the tiny airport with laughter. and joy. and dancing. and hugs. as we offered our thank yous and goodbyes in multiple languages. with hopes of greeting each other again. perhaps on the other side of the bering strait next time.

a mere week ago, we met in the same space. in an atmosphere of silence and uncertainty. none of us knew what to expect. or even how to interact. yet through the exchange of cultures, of personalities, of experiences, we grew into a diverse family. as we celebrated our differences. and discovered common ground.

eleven youth and three adults from new chaplino and provideniya, russia were able to visit nome this past week through a grant the community center received from the national park service. the purpose was to connect people in the beringia region, who live in different countries and speak different languages, but share many similar lifestyle practices and traditions.

the group that visited consisted of siberian yupik dancers. and ecology students. during the week, the students had the opportunity to share their gifts with the community. and we did our best to show them around nome. yet regardless of what we did. or didn't do. simply being in one another's presence. and honouring one another's origins. inherently taught us more that can be expressed in words. the whole experience transcended language, really.

and i was reminded of the beauty. of soul connections. of shared experiences. that go beyond words. of the creative ways people can interact. and reach common understanding. when language barriers are present. yet in its absence, i was also reminded of the depth that language allows us to converse in. and how we often overlook its potential to understand one another more intimately. and how often we shy away from depth. and maintain safe words. that merely float on the surface of something greater.

one of the most vibrant illustrations of transcendent connections happened during a community dance performance. eskimo dancers from both new chaplino and king island shared their talents. and though new chaplino's dances were sung in siberian yupik. and king island's in inupiaq, the movements went beyond words. and some of the most beautiful moments were during welcome or invitational songs where dancers and community members from both sides danced and drummed and sang together. finding a certain cultual harmony. and the image of people of such similar heritage with a history of such political division uniting in music and movement was profound. perhaps what this was all supposed to be about.

the youth from russia seemed deeply connected to their roots. to their traditions. to where they come from. much more so than i have observed with young folks in nome. and i admired that in them. yet i also observed them very much in tune with modern culture. with mp3 players. and shopping. and rap music. and i wondered how they make sense of it all. these different worlds. that they are apart of. that are apart of them. but i couldn't really ask. couldn't find the words.

i offer tremendous thanks. that my journey merged with the journeys of such beautiful, interesting people. that we were able to learn more from each other than we can express. that we journey on with changed perspectives. and that we journey on with hopes that our paths might cross again.

happy's not the word. you make me free.

i wondered about the timing of it. there were too many things on the to-do list. or the to-think-about list. hardly ever written down. but almost always floating around in my head. it just didn't seem the ideal week to leave everything behind. but perhaps the timing was just right after all.

as soon as we arrived at bear creek fish camp. there was a sense of peace. of release. as if all the busy thoughts clouding my consciousness could be let go of. as if we could simply be. right where we were. amidst beautiful creation.

and there was a certain freedom. to play. to laugh. to sing. to dance. to spalsh. to enjoy. a certain innocence. as if this was all that mattered. this moment. this space. these companions. and i remember asking, can this just be life?

and we picked endless blueberries. and swam in numbing rivers. and fished with hope even when the fish weren't biting. and we hiked along the tundra. and celebrated the sunlight. and gathered around the campfire at night. and we drank spruce needle tea that tasted like christmas. and shared delicious meals together. and played neverending games of cards and charades.

it was as if we were all at liberty to be ourselves. and we all seemed to come a little bit more alive.

and something about it all. inspired me to sing. quite continually. each moment reminding me of a familiar tune. that would come bursting out. beyond my control. a musical of joyful noise. and perhaps in other settings in life. i also sing continually. at least in my head. but this certain flow of melodies seemed rather out of the ordinary. in a freeing sort of way.

and something about it all. was magical. or sacred. as we gathered in this natural sanctuary. to honour one another. to honour the earth and sky and water in our midst. to honour our own spirits.

and i didn't want to leave. this safe haven. this refreshing space. but journeys must continue. and songs must spill into new verses. so the beauty of it all will remain with us. as we venture on.

salmonberry delight.

wandering amidst the tundra. in sunshine. in rain. scanning the vast green for vibrant bits of orange. discovering juicy clusters. budding from tiny flowers. growing into fullness. just as they were meant to. after being hidden for so long. and thanking the earth. for her generosity. her fruitfulness. her gifts flowing so naturally.

wandering amidst the tundra. in solitude with my own soul. in communion with all that is surrounding. mindful of the moment. the moment which is just enough.

wandering amidst the tundra. with no particular path. bouncing from berry patch to berry patch. each new discovery leading to the next. humble moments of barrenness. without a berry in sight. trying moments of unripe berries. needing time to become whole. teaching us lessons in patience. in waiting. in trusting in fruit to come. joyful moments of abudance. berry heaven, one might say.

wandering amidst the tundra. filling our buckets with delights of the earth. allowing the occasional berry to grace our tongues. with juices so fresh and sweet. yet reserving most for times to come. knowing that winter will soon arrive. overwhelming this frutiful tundra. with coverings of white. and we must prepare. for changing times. of scarcity. so that when they reach. there might still be enough.

wandering amidst the tundra. remebering a time when saving fruit for another day didn't make sense. as tomorrow was not assumed. and if we did receive the gift of the next day, we would also recieve the gifts of the land. of the trees. of the sea. meant to be enjoyed in the moment. and shared with our neighbour. with faith that if tomorrow did come. something would be in season. and there would be enough.

wandering amidst the tundra. trying to make sense of these two worlds. of what was. of what is. with little concept of what will be. trying to understand where i fit. my place in the spectrum of it all. appreciating those who listen. who may have had glimpses of one of these worlds. and especially yearning for those who might understand both. who might understand me.

wandering amist the tundra. ever mindful of the berries. of the beauty. of the moment. ever thankful for the joy of it all.