Mountain Mornings

Mornings have become a special place to inhabit. It’s not a hard thing to imagine when you know that we make our home in the mountains in a small house overlooking a lake. Waking up to sit in that view is revitalizing every time. It’s a treat and a joy.

            Doesn’t really matter what season it is. Every morning in every time of the year has its magic. Sure, sometimes you have to struggle to see it when it’s foggy or rainy or the cold of winter slaps you hard when you step outside. But it’s always there.

            For me it’s the sensation of being removed from everything. There’s no traffic here except for our neighbours making their way to town to work. But there’s only fifty-nine houses here so the flow is minimal. There is absolutely no noise and that can be strange at first.

            Once your ears adjust to the lack of volume anywhere you can really start to hear. In five years I’ve learned that the breeze has different voices. I’ve learned that the approach of rain can sound like applause in the trees and that water birds actually talk to each other.

            You can hear snow fall. You hear creatures move in the bush and you hear your heartbeat when you close your eyes and breathe. It’s like learning a whole new group of senses, really because morning is a sensual experience out here. You not only wake to it, you come alive in it.

It’s so still you can feel the boundaries of things shimmer with the effort it takes

to hold themselves in. Everywhere around you there is this sense that the world and the universe are entering another day together. That’s not an Indian thing – it’s a human one.

In that perfect silence where not even a faint breeze strays, the idea of manitous  of spirits hovered over everything becomes the first wavered light of the sun through the clouds and the storm that gathers to the west announces itself in a fanfare of silence.

Small wonder, you say that there’s no word for “power” in your language only spirit only medicine but then there’s no word for “obvious” either. The spirit of a morning becomes coffee, air, the feel of the land around you and the notion that life and Creation always brings you to the places you need to be.

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About Richard Wagamese

I am a published author with 13 titles published by major Canadian publishers. I am a First Nations person from the Ojibway Nation in Northwestern, Ontario, Canada. As a professional writer since 1979 I have written for newspaper, radio television, magazines and book publishing. I love the culture of books and the people who populate it. 2012 recipient of the National Aboriginal Achievement Award for Media & Communications. View all posts by Richard Wagamese

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