Light of a Clear Blue Morning

I woke this morning in the mountains.  I know, shocker!  But it’s different.  I am always amazed at the power of the Appalachians’ pull.  Their wisdom and spirit coming up from the ground to caress the day.  They await the sun, and for thousands of years have beckoned nature to dress their hills with an adornment of green, living cloth, frost capped winters and verdant summers.  This is home.

But this morning is different.  I told a dear friend as we approached the top of one of her hills, that I had always called Atlanta home, but home can change.  It’s not the city that I love, grew up in and have went through all the major tragedies and successes of my life.  Home is something more.  Home is heart.  Home is here.

Two weeks ago I started a new journey.  I enrolled in Wilderness First Responder training at SOLO Southeast, located at the Nantahalla Outdoor Center in Western North Carolina.  It was 8 intense days of medical training and outdoor scenarios designed to make me and my fellow classmates aware and prepared to face the challenges that can come in the backcountry as well as in the urban settings we live.  But it was more.  I met more of ‘my people’.  It’s so good to find others that share the same passions and love for the outdoor world, but beyond that, want to help others enjoy that world with the knowledge of how to better assist and aid them if something were to go wrong.

I met a couple who shared my heart beyond the class.  A teacher with the experience and the hands-on training that I needed, with a wit that truly rivaled many comics I’ve spent money to go see.  A gentle fireman who I predict will one day be putting his life on the line daily fighting wildfires.  A strong woman who already leads other women into the joy of the outdoors, who slept in a freezing SUV for part of the week.  And a photographer/writer who I’ve grown to adore.  There were others, and if you were there, you were special.  

Where is this taking me?  Well, just ask me.  I’m not quite ready to spill the final destination, and in truth, I’m allowing life to help shape the “next” destination instead of fully heeding the pull to one final place.  Paths change, direction shifts, the wind blows and our hearts and minds often follow the beckoning toward something totally new.  Maybe westward.  Who knows?

But home remains.  It’s inside me, but so much clearer on a late January afternoon on top of the Black Mountains.