A Special Sunday in Seattle

Such is the infinite beauty of creation that it never remains the same.

Being accustomed to living in the Sonoran Desert, a weekend trip to equally familiar Seattle was a big change. The weather by the Salish Sea was sunny; a nice gift for my niece on her wedding day. The air is fresh, moist and invigorating. I miss that in Tucson. The green of trees and grass, the greys of mold-stained concrete, and the hill-defined neighborhoods are all familiar to me. The wedding was by a forest lake and included a short hike up through the trees to a rock outcrop promontory with a commanding view. These are all familiar to me from my Cascade and Olympic hiking days. But (there is always a but) the congestion caused me to pause, as did an unfamiliar sense of unfamiliarity in familiar surroundings.

I was feeling something I could not identify, a mixed feeling of familiarity, enjoyment, loss (at having moved to Tucson and missing Seattle and family), and discomfort.

In Lower Alaska, the complaint is winter cold, dark, dampness. In the Sonoran Desert, the complaint is summer day heat that extends through the night in monsoon humidity.

I only made sense of my unease in Lower Alaska the day after I returned to the Old Pueblo. I stepped outside during the heat of the day, a time when I ordinarily stay sheltered inside our shuttered and cooled home, and didn't feel oppressed. The near one hundred degree heat felt enlivening and friendly.

My unease over Sunday in Seattle made a little more sense. Here at home, I do not have to wear shoes, I can live in my underwear, take a private dip in the warm swimming pool, take Nazar for a walk in the wash in the brisk morning air without encountering another person, and delight in the clear, open skies, stunning light, and amazing variety of flora and fauna.

Several times over the weekend I talked about my first sweat, the plains Amerind's ritual of heat and light deprivation, a returning to the womb of mother earth. On that occasion many years ago, as I literally crawled out of the sweat lodge, I saw everything in a new, fresh and living light. By everything, I mean grass, trees, directions, people and even just beingness. Of course, all that faded after a week or so as familiarity took over.

My Sunday was like a sweat ceremony.  Not just the invigorating coolness of a sunny day in Puget Sound, but the wedding opened me up to again see life in a new, fresh and living light. The ritual that brought this out was being with sisters, nieces, nephews, grand-nieces and grand-nephews. They are spouses, mothers, fathers, kids, infants, grandparents (and uncles and aunts) and newly weds. They are wonderful, each and every one, all brought together for the occasion of a wedding between two people who very obviously love each other deeply.

In a few days the magic I feel about the Sonoran Desert may fade into familiarity and routine. Same with Puget Sound. It also can easily be taken for granted. The magic of the beauty of both places was rekindled being in both over the course of a weekend. A change of scenery elicits appreciation while the change is still new, but that awareness fades with familiarity.

I hope never to lose the awe, appreciation and admiration for the fine people with whom I share deep connections.