The Wildflower Festival,
last night,
on the side of a mountain.
Liquid sun delicious wind friends of sweet mountain view green valley rumpled earth tender wine barking dogs dancing kids flower power smell those flowers bucking around wild things of the West.
I met some fellow from the East Coast (a lovely little narcissist) up on the side of this hill who told me all about his life and his dysfunction and about his dislike for Pocatello because no one was friendly (NOT FRIENDLY??!!! Um. Were you in a different Pocatello, Idaho???) and it wasn’t at all like what the West should be. He said he hated it so much that he drove to Jackson and Yellowstone (!!!) where he felt so much more at ease — probably because he was with his own kind. Those places are some of the trophies of the West but they aren’t who WE are.
I listened with open ears.
I listened deeply with an open heart and heard what he really had to say and saw his brokenness for what it really was and when a friend finally came along to safely drag me away from his ranting he reached out and gave me a hug like we were old friends. Like we had connected in a real way as two human beings in hip high wildflowers on the side of a mountain. I said, as I walked away:
You know, I don’t know where his notion of what the West should be like came from but he’s got it all wrong. This is the West. We make it the way it is. And if you come from somewhere else and are blind to our true spirit, or if you come here expecting something else, then you make yourself blind to the beautiful reality of this space and you shouldn’t stay because you’re just cramping a horizon that would otherwise be wide open.
This is all to say, if you come West from someplace that isn’t West, keep your eyes and your heart wide open. Not everyone is a soft spoken cowboy or punchy cowgirl, there’s a blend out here, like there is everywhere, a steady blend of mountain, plains, river rock, stout hearts and crumbling facades. It’s where old meets new and new meets old. If you can’t see that, you’re missing the possibility of it all and the view from the vista is going to seem tarnished.
The entire experience directed my thinking to the actual true definition of the West. What makes West West??? Is it the people, the land, the space, the elk or a combination of everything wild and free out here? I’ve got a libertarian/independent streak a mile wide in my heart. I like to make my own decisions, I like to work hard, I like to range free and have as little meddling as possible in my life from outside organizations. I don’t like to be told what I can and can’t do. I don’t like to conform. I like to have space to buck around in. I like to put my head down and kick my heels until there’s nothing on my back and I’m light as a feather. RW does too. We know the difference between right and wrong, we believe in Love and laying it down as a foundation for our relationships with all things (humans, animals, land, The Holy), we believe in space. It’s why we live where we live and how we live. This isn’t a political statement. This is how I am. This is how we are. Give me the choice and I’ll gladly choose for myself. Tell me what to think and what to do and I’ll balk, dig in my heels and not go gently.
Not at all.
You could probably label this as a rebellious spirit but I like to think
I simply have an overdeveloped sense of free will.
Does any of this ranting define the West?
And furthermore, if I was living in the East, would I seem Western to the Easterners…would I carry this vastness with me and wear it on my sleeve like a steady down valley draft for everyone to feel?
If you aren’t from here, this chunk of:
pasture, lake, river, mountain, foothill, prairie, grasslands, slough, stone and wind…
how have you always dreamed this place would be?
And if you are from the West,
what is it to you?
And how does your existence help define it?
Are your heartstrings made of barbed wire?
Do you know that song that makes the tall grasses bend down at the knee?
Does your soul meander like a spring fed creek down the side of a mountain?
Does the wind know you by name?
Do you drink the sunlight and tame the bees?
Mine do. Yes I know it. It does. Yes. I do.
If you come West, come see me, we’ll sing the sun down together and breathe that wide open breeze into our bodies and rest on our sides in the grass like rocky ranges rising up. We won’t do as we’re told, not always, but we’ll always do what’s right.
In the sun, under the shadow of the West edge of the Rockies,
In the sun, under the shadow of the West edge of the Rockies,
we’ll warm our bones with music, spun gold and tall grasses.
When the moon rises, full and bright
we’ll whirl wildly about the night.
you captured the light magnificently– makes me want to set those images to music and watch them on a continuous loop…
Yeah–the light and terrain and grass and dog and humans are musical in themselves. Looks like a lovely festival. We had a few back in the day 😉
WoW! Beautifully captured life! That sun hit just right..too gorgeous..Many hugs and blessings to you dear chickadee!!
Jesus is love!!
ethereal.
sun. music. moon. twirling.
[i miss those days….my sun dancing is mostly in the garden these days, my moon twirling while at work when i can take a break outside….]
[[hey. wasn't penelope invited to attend?? grass too tall for twirling short long-dog?]]
Janet: Well THANK you! But I must give credit to the light, it was kind and very catchable!
Doro: !!! I was!
Abigail: Thank you, dear woman!
Marie: I didn't take the dogs with me. They haven't been exercised much this week and Farley would have been a real handful up there…fear not. I'm going to let him use his rocket boosters up in the hills today and I might even take him out to the ranch with me when I go riding with a friend!
Dear Noisy Plume,
I don't know if you remember me from a certain Northern SK camp, but I remember you. And I remember you being one of the funniest people I'd ever met. I do not remember you as an artist (a poet, a photographer, a wordsmith, or a silversmith) but I did not know you very well. You are certainly all of these things, and the words, images, and objects you produce are absolutely breathtaking. I just wanted to tell you that your blog has become one of my favorites in recent months, since I discovered it. And I, too, ended up going West, and I've found it to be all you've said it to be, and more. Thanks for sharing your beautiful things with me.
Dear Beth M.
Of course I remember your tall piano playing red headed self. How could I forget? Thank you for weaving yourself into my life. I love having you here.
Bless you.
Bless the West.
When I meet people from other places who complain about Pocatello & this part of the world, I wish I had the ability to explain my love for this area to them in the way you just did. Thank you! You have very beautiful pictures too!
Amy! Aren't you a sugar plum!
xx
By the way, I'll be in sometime this week and I will ask you to make me a medium sized soy latte and you will and it will be delicious. Also, I love the expansion at Kinport, looks so beautiful and sunny in that back corner!!!
x
I came home when I moved to Montana – born in Ohio, lived in CA for 14 years, looked over all of the "West" in late '93…thought I would start in Coeur d'Alene but had MT to look at before the final decision. It was love at first sight when I drove into the Flathead Valley of Northwest Montana.
There are parts of ID and WY I could live in but I love Montana with a passion that is hard to explain like most love is. I'll probably try a more open, more rural part of MT soon – I'd like to live on the edge of a small town.
The primary things of the west that make it right for me and me for it are most of what you said – the independent spirit, the mostly live and let live, love of the sky and mountains and woods. I live with thoughtfulness for those I live next to and whose paths I cross, with respect for land and critters and each of our roles in Creation, but within those boundaries, I live life on my own terms and how I think it is right.
It is interesting when anyone is critical of a place. I've been places where I didn't fit and would not have wanted to live and occasionnally "complained" to a friend about those places, but it would never cross my mind to tell someone who chose a place that that place was "bad". But, it is as you discovered, there was something else going on with that person and it came out in a rant against the west.
But then, so many positives from the experience, Yes? – it made you think, and you wrote beautifully about it and shared those thoughts which made me and others think…
Here's to thinking and being able to choose and have people we love encourage our choosing.
People tend to receive what they give…
Poor fellow probably doesn't know his nature very well…
The East in me has caused some lovely smoothness and also some craggy bits…Newfoundlanders have a varied reputation, we are the most Eastern of North America and are open and friendly as well as secretive and harsh…We are human. Sadly and joyously.
Much love from the Easternest Crow.
xo
Love that you took the time to listen, and not berate said stranger, when your idea of the west was so different from his . . . and just quietly I love your concept of the west. It sounds all charming and delightful!
utterly beautiful. Every single word. Every picture. I adore it all.
Can I swallow some of that golden delicious right up for myself? I am sure there is enough…
<3
you know what i think? we westerners are sometimes the calm cool customer types… but not in a bad way. we are just chilled out. and we don't like to get in people's faces because, who knows?, maybe you're having a peaceful moment… wouldn't wanna disturb ya. This might be misinterpreted as coolness, but it's not. however, if someone asks a question or needs help or just smiles at us, we open our mouths, hearts and homes. i don't have a cell phone, but i never worry about my old car breaking down. when it does, *car after car after car stops to see if i need help.
*truck
…ain't that the truth!
i.will.be.there.soon. my soul tears up at the sight of this wide open land. it might be the portal to the final stage of really getting well again. and well, that just REALLY makes me cry. in a good way.
This space
will fill
that space in you.
That's a promise.
This is God's country and it's going to make you whole.
It IS god's country. T and I were driving through it yesterday and it broke us both and mended us back up. At least for yesterday.
Oh Jillianionao.
I can feel that hillbilly light on my skin.
YERS PLZ!
"And furthermore, if I was living in the East, would I seem Western to the Easterners…would I carry this vastness with me and wear it on my sleeve like a steady down valley draft for everyone to feel?"……..
yes, and yes, and yes, and yes………..
this is me…..
you have captured it perfectly with your strong/delicate/deft words….
namaste
K
Patrick and I took out first trip West last summer.
it changed us
we hear it calling our names. constantly.
your descriptions offer a fond reminiscing for everything we fell in love with. something so hard to find words for.
i imagine this fellow sees his own dysfunctions reflected back at him. no matter where he may travel. something to be sorted out internally, rather than changes in geography. hopefully God will help him see more clearly. perhaps you were part of His great plan… to plant a seed of warm-hearted perspective. that things may be seen much differently , if one is open.
-Lynsey