Yesterday, Sam and I climbed the mountain, to the cross overlooking Lac des Deux Montagnes, and the town of Rigaud, our town, dusted in snow.
The forest was quiet & still; nothing stirred. Only silence breathed, blinking in the tufts of the pines as we passed below. We let the goldens run free, nose-to-ground and tails-wagging – at this time of year, the trails are ours alone.
This winter is growing white, but remains mild in weather. I smiled and silently gave thanks, while I turned to Sam and said "This is the perfect December." These past few days, we've been wondering about how to be small in the face of the big, unchangeable forces in the world. We've been talking about our roles as consumers within a chain that seems to have no end; a circle that binds the environment & all of its species, to human beings, to abuse & profit, to waste, and all over again.
In our discussions over breakfast at our new favourite café, decorated in country holiday charm, we cover topics from animal rights, to vegetarianism, to trade inequality and the changing power politics of the globe. And though it can appear dark at times, huge and unchangeable, the most beautiful reminder is that we have a choice. We may not be able to change these times, but we can choose who we are within them. We are small forces, but at least we are our own.
On the mountaintop, the skies were grey, streaked with faded blues. Another year is ending. Sam reminded me of a Samurai, in his black coat and his hair pulled in a bun. Maybe it’s because the night before I’d watched the enchanting stop-animated film Kubo, and we’d gone out for sweet potato sushi afterwards.
How many times we’ve climbed this mountain. Our old high school’s towers, simultaneously church & prison-like, peek from the trees near the bottom. The lake recedes into the Ottawa River to the West, while a distant Montréal stretches into a hazy East. This place is our beginning.
Up here, I feel that I am standing at a distance from so many memories. Grateful for everything, observing life fondly, in the way that distance allows. Yet I know there is still so much to come. A calling from the cusp of that horizon.
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“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
- J.R.R Tolkien