Layers
April Ambles: Reflections of a Philosophical Forager — Day 24
We who are lucky enough to live in the Southern Appalachian mountains are blessed with layered views every time we look up from whatever else momentarily captures our attention. Mountain ranges unfold in succession, each one a bit paler than the last until they fade into the multi-layered sky, often strewn with cloud strata.
Our lives are layered too, each year, each decade adding to the depth, forming a footing from which we venture forth every day. Sometimes we pull back a layer and re-visit a memory, mostly we just add to the layers incrementally.
Sometimes the layers are gossamer thin and flap around until a more solid layer is slathered on. Sometimes the layers don’t stick at all and we’re off in search of more fitting material. Some of our layers are colored with bright hues and others are more subtle. A few are white and black for accent.
Every once in a while layers get swirled together and our perspective changes. We stand taller for a brief moment. Sometimes something unexpected blows a layer back, and we are left feeling exposed, naked, fragile but real.
As we go about our days, it is worth thinking of what kind of layer we are forming, whether it will feel good to us when the time has come for a shift to the next one. We can work on making our layers light so that they will be easier to carry around with us. We can consider the layers that others might be wearing. We can use them as a source of compassion for ourselves and for those whose layers intertwine briefly with ours.
For more amblings from the author, check out Child of the Woods: An Appalachian Odyssey.
