A Love Letter to the Mountains
This was my 15th year in Asheville. I would have rather have gotten the traditional 15 year anniversary gift of crystal than a hurricane. Like any relationship, I’ve had my moments with Asheville that were challenging and others that were nothing short of magic. I grew up here as an adult. Experiencing Hurricane Helene in the mountains, a place that was supposed to be a climate refuge, shook my sense of security. I often say its a special kind of hell to watch those you love suffer and I have watched my home, this land, and my communities suffer. The collective grief and trauma in the air can be overwhelming. And as grief does, it comes when it wants to, not when its convenient for you, demanding to be witnessed. Grief and love are two sides of the same coin, a painfully beautiful friendship. However, this is a love letter, I love these mountains.
This land has always brought me peace. When I leave and come back, seeing the mountains rise over the horizon, I just feel whole. The hilly terrain challenges my body in a way I welcome. I feel held by the earth when I look around. The diversity of plants always excites me as I walk through both my neighborhood and on trails. I have love for the animals and insects who keep the ecosystems in balance. The excitement I feel when I see the rare hellbender, or those cute little skinks with the blue tails (man I love those), or the sweetness of an innocent bear (that doesn’t catch me off guard and startle me), feels childlike. When I need to nourish my soul with some awe and wonder, I seek refuge in the mountains. They truly take my breath away. You can often find me audibly saying “wow” as I drive, walk, or hike around. As someone with a small body, looking up at the mighty trees reminds me I am just one part of this vast world and I’m honored to be here in this moment. The communities here enliven me regularly, particularly post Helene. People showing up and connecting, offering such generosity of time, energy, and skills is pure beauty. I can count on my community here which helps me feel safe and cared for. The art and creativity I am surrounded by inspire me. There is a small business for all my needs. I have access to so many local farms. I always know where my food was raised and grown which helps me feel even more connected to the land and people who grow it. Cooking and eating local food feels spiritual to me, true nourishment.
These mountains nurture me mind, body, and soul. These ancient mountains hold wisdom. I can only hope I am learning an ounce of what they have to teach me. My love is deep, and so is my grief.
Questions to ponder.
What does home mean to me?
How can I connect more to my community?
How can I become a better steward of the land?
