Paula and I were in Alaska for 12 days. But that’s not saying much. Being in Alaska for 12 days (or 12 weeks) is like saying you’ve been in the Pacific Ocean after dipping your toe in. It’s true, of course. You have been “in” the ocean, but it’s terribly misleading.
Alaska is vast.
It’s 663,268 square miles. One-fifth the size of the lower 48 states combined. Twice as big as Texas. It could hold Massachusetts sixty-two times over.
Alaska is spectacular.
Three million lakes, 39 mountain ranges (containing 17 of the 20 highest peaks in the United States), and 100,000 glaciers covering 5 percent of the state. One of those glaciers is the size of Rhode Island!
Alaska is bountiful.
Seals, sea otters, bald eagles, whales, puffins, moose, bears, tundra, tamarack, Sitka spruce, white birch, fireweed, forget-me-nots, rivers, fjords, bays, waterfalls, and Denali.
No, you can’t see all of Alaska, but you can see enough to take you to another place.
A holy place.
Before any of us were Christians, Jews, Hindus, Buddhists, Muslims, Mormons, Moose, Elk, Lions, Rotarians, Democrats or Republicans, we were pagans. Simple people. At one with nature. At home.
And then we went missing.
But now we’re coming back. Gradually. Back to our senses, back to our place in the family of things. It’s a reunion, a reformation, a revival.
No, our sins cannot be forgotten. Amnesia is forbidden. Repentance is required. Amendments must be made. And soon!
The way is hard. But grace abounds.
Denali takes us into the mystery of grace. Like a cathedral, Denali draws our gaze upward. It evokes awe and wonder and humility. In its presence we feel small but not diminished. It doesn’t judge or condemn us. We shudder before its majesty. Reverent. Still.
(St. Peter’s Basilica can’t hold a candle to it.)
And if we could—without looking weird—we’d take off our shoes, fall on our knees, and shout, HALLELUJAH. But we keep all that inside and take a photograph instead.
And Gaia says, “Cheese.”
It’s not that she’s vain. It’s just that she’s happy one of her children finally figured out how to make a damn camera—plus music, poetry, and art in homage to the natural world.
I mean, as venerable as grizzlies are, they couldn’t get that done. If they see a salmon, they’re not taking a picture.
Or writing a poem.
_______________________
Paula’s new photo (Aialik Glacier). Scroll down to “visual explorations.”
Share this post with friends. Use links below.
Not a subscriber? Subscribe here. Free. No ads. Unsubscribe anytime.
The recovery of wonder is vital. Alaska enables that to occur. Slowing down, taking a breath, pondering and appreciating are all vital factors for that to happen. Poetry enables and empowers us along these lines. Perhaps the following poem by E.B. Browning is appropriate for your blog and the Alaska adventure: “Earth’s crammed with heaven/ And every common bush afire with God/ And only he who sees/ takes off his shoes/ The rest sit round it/ and pluck blackberries.” Thank you for your marvelous blog and Paula’s beautiful photograph—all of which enables us to “see” and “take off our shoes.”
Thank you !
Claire always called herself a “Born Again Pagan.” To stand in awe of Nature’s wonder and majesty is a proper attitude adjustment that we all need. We realize how small and insignificant we are. That realization tempers us and nurtures humbleness. Something all of us need more of.
Attempting to put the grace, the bounty, the power, the inexpressible spirit of Gaia into words & photos is greatly appreciated by those of us who may never witness firsthand – thank you. Your sentiments & musings resonate with that wordless awe & wonder I have known & understood…over & over. And before we went separately, we were one human family…& we still have time to wake up & grok … Aho! “Amen, Amen, Amen – & a Little Woman”
Thank you for this beautiful homage to nature and to Alaska. As long as we remain additcted to the manufacturing industry, we will never get it; we will never be able to truly respect Mother Earth and all of her creatures. When we return to doing and making things with our own hands, we will be closer to a kinship and respect for all life.
Wonderful piece!! Beautiful writing, perceptive, honest deeply thoughtful. And fundamentally truthful. Our spirits suffer from our absence from the natural world and our place in it. Gaia is the home of all us living creatures,the birthplace of life that we all share in common.
I lived my four high school years on the side of Warm Springs Mountain (VA). I felt the mountain as a living thing, talking to me alone and sheltering me. I always knew which direction I was going because I always knew where the mountain was. Miles and miles away I still feel in my heart.
I feel such joy as I drink in your beautiful response to Gaia’s endless abundance in Alaska, Randy, and what a rare treat to read such deeply touching comments. As you and readers have shared, “right response” is bare feet connected to Mother Earth in silence, heads bowed in acknowledgement, with humility, wonder, and awe. Thank you all. We survive and live fully to the extent we revere our Great Mother.
I cried from an emotion deep inside when I saw the Yosemite Valley. I have no idea what that emotion was, but the closest I can get to is reverence, and awe. I knew I was in a sacred space.
I’m so glad you had a wonderful and renewing trip. John Muir said, “The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.” As for Denali and the mountains around McKinley, when we saw the mountains, I thought of Psalm 90:2 and Psalm 121: 1+2. The Creator gave people a magnificent world that has been sadly underappreciated and damaged for far too long. Thanks for the reminder to see the beauty of the earth.
That’s cool, and my Denali photo likewise does not hold a candle to this one.