Legit

Of all the legitimate excuses to neglect daily writing (at least on an blog site) the limited access to a keyboard other than the one on my phone is perhaps understandable.  Still, the notebook I brought with me on this two week trip to the land of my birth and early growth still sits in the backpack.  Now, as my vacation winds down and I am left with the necessary task of packing all the goodies of this experience (not just the material ones) I find myself beginning to reclaim the life I live in Alaska.  That life entails not just the day to day details of keeping myself alive and reasonably intact, but is rich in relationship to meaningful work, play and most importantly love of family, friends, the physical environment and of course the self that I have created there.  It is no different from the self that I created here in the quiet and remote places of Wisconsin and Michigan, for my soul knew its earliest yearnings in this land and when I come here again and again the panorama of my life is set before me and I know that I am truly blessed.

Yesterday while driving from the rolling farmlands of central Wisconsin to the more heavily treed knolls of the north, Aron remarked that what was missing from the backdrop of colorful leaves was the omnipresent mountain vistas in Alaska.  Still, he said, Lake Superior is like nothing else, like nothing Alaska offers in all its grandeur and awesomeness.  It brings me joy to hear him say that for the lake is as much a part of who I am as the genes of my ancestors who worked in this land and built lives that would eventually entail my entrance on this physical plane.  That deep connection stirs in me when I stand at the shores of this grand majesty and reflect on the millions of others whose lives are linked in this dark and wild inland sea that is not sea--but so very similar in its expansiveness.  It's unforgiving waters are the graves of many who were caught by its power and its waves are the delight of those who have been fondled in its cool refreshment.  It is the resting place (if such a place can ever be called that) for the ashes of many mortal beloved whose bodies have yielded to the eternal yearnings of the soul.  My brother's are here and hopefully someday mine will be as well.  And so, above all, this place is Holy.

While I yearn to return to the place where my heart took wing and grew in the lush and harsher realm of Alaska, a part of it remains here, with both my ancestors and my progeny.  So my leaving is bittersweet, as all leavings must be.  And the vague tears that form in my eyes and the tightening that gathers like afternoon clouds in my throat are like all things of the heart and the soul--legit.