My paltry offering for the blog is limited to: The View.
I grew up in the jungles of Papua New Guinea. This was my view every morning.
I left the tribe 13 years ago and miss this place with every fiber of my being. It's like being banished from a home to where I can never return. In America, I bounced around from state to state (life of a college student) until I found El Paso, Texas (thanks to the US Army). I traded the jungle for the desert, but no where else in this country have I felt closer to home. This is my view now.
Mountain vistas and big skies inspire my writing. The majesty of it all encourages me to go further, dig deeper, and rise higher. At the same time, the beauty reminds me to slow down and appreciate the importance of living in the moment and making lasting memories.
13 comments:
In my experience, toddlers are a lot like puppies for awhile, both in behavior (learning, potty training) and in joy production
Those are magnificent views, thank you for sharing them!
Gorgeous views! I live in Michigan where most of it is second only to Ohio in flatness. I'm fortunate to live in an area in the lower peninsula that actually has some grade to it, but nothing like the views you've posted. I'm a bit jealous here!
Thank you for these photos, OP. A view is as profound as anything else in this world, and the two you shared with us are lovely. What a perfect offering for Sunday contemplation.
Lovely.
I am fortunate living with a splendid view too, I'm in the White Mountains of NH and see Mt. Washington out the window. I love having all the space around me and a long view to the mountains.
I sure hope you are writing something about growing up in Papua New Guinea!
Those views are stunningly beautiful! Thanks for sharing.
I’ve been a city boy all my life, and the closest thing I’ve ever known to a view like those, is if the graffiti on the brick wall opposite my window consists of more than two colors... But, let me not be unthankful! At least the ruckus of the above-ground subway cars screeching by at 2:36 in the morning, makes up for the general lack of beauty and serenity in the New York City landscape. And let’s be frank, who needs the sweet sounds of gentle winds caressing the lush, green landscape stretching beyond the edge of the world; the symphony of the desert’s grandiose silence, profound and humbling; or the divine rhythms and harmonies performed so skillfully by nature’s orchestra, bringing us ever closer to ourselves and the vast universe within, with every melody it plays; when one can order overpriced Sushi in the middle of the night... I think I’ve made my point.
"It's like being banished from a home to where I can never return." OP, generally I am not a memoir reader, but I really want to know more about that. If you love it so much, why did you leave? opportunity? And why can't you go back? stability for family?
Anyway, very beautiful.
What a gorgeous vista. I lived in El Paso for a while when I first got married. It's indeed desert country, but good people. I instantly felt my soul go when I moved to Texas, like this was where I was supposed to be all along and somehow got misplaced at birth.
I would really miss that first view, though. Holy crow.
Re the dogs, your decision of course, but toddlers are more resilient than you think and dogs are good for them. My oldest son wandered away while we were building some new fence. I panicked because he'd toddled into the barn where Tina Girl, one of our Aussies, had a new litter. Brandon crawled into the whelping box with her and the puppies. She was busy trying to nose him in closer so she could take care of him too.
I said then she'd have a home with us as long as she lived and she did.
Love the views, OP. And I feel your pain. I lived the life of a Third Culture Kid for many years (Dad was DoD, so not quite a military brat, not a State Dept. kid either). It was exciting but also lonely, trying to fit in. I went through three elementary schools, one middle school, three high schools, and two colleges before I found my tribe. I'm so glad you found a home in El Paso.
BTW- a brat friend of mine introduced me to the Welsh word "hiraeth," which means to long for and miss a home you can never return to. I've stored it to my mind ever since learning it. Maybe you can find solace in knowing a lot of us have hiraeth, too. :)
I was born in Phoenix, up near camelback. Since I was a kid I got a lot of desert sand up the crack of my ass and liked it.Mom was from Yonkers and dad from Saul Center Minnesota. They had no roots there and dragged me to Florida.
It took a while but I learned to prefer having wet sand up the crack of my ass. Home is where you make it, though you can still hiraeth at bittersweet times.
Currently I am in bittersweet times. A beast is stalking our east coast. I hope the weather geeks have gotten it right this time, but I have not seen that happen before and I've seen too many of this kind of beast.
This slow motion angst is dragging at me, so the wonderful views are welcome.
You write so well about being in-between places, this resonated with me. Always the sweet pull between the one place you long for and the one where you've put down roots. I grew up in Australia and every time I go back home and step off the plane, the high blue skies, hot smell of eucalyptus and flocks of parrots are like balm to my soul. Thank you for sharing those beautiful views.
I grew up in El Paso. It’s beautiful and still home. While I haven’t yet been to Papua New Guinea, I have been to an island that’s mostly jungle, and felt the same way. I get it.
Thanks for sharing. Beautifully written, indeed.
Haven't made it to PNG, but the pointy end of Queensland in Oz has similar vistas. Just stunning.
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