Participatory Painting

1:05 am on the 14th of June and I swear just a few hours ago it was 1:05 on the 13th.  The days are dropping from the pages of my calendar as if they weren't even bound in the first place.  I set sail for the states 10 days from now.  I'm excited for home but I feel my departure will feel like a treadmill that suddenly stops in the middle of your workout.  I'm weary to brace myself or slow down before the stop because I don't want to miss any minute of the last week.  I'd rather hit the flight home full stride; there is much still to see and do.  Sunday afternoon I went with some friends up to Mt. Cargill, I think one of the highest "peaks" in the Dunedin area.  About 760 meters or so. A substantial elevation gain when you consider the neighboring Pacific Ocean.  Over the last trip with Usch and Charlotte we did some tracks that never really summited, we had some cool views but we never reached the top of anything.  They were nice walks but this trip to Cargill reminded me what is so special about climbing peaks:  the unique opportunity to see the world in symphony.  I could see the fields, hills, trees, rivers, peninsula, bay, wind, birds, and ocean all as a part of beautiful and natural composition.  Everything had a place, it was truly remarkable.  The hills were not just another plot of land that sat alone in there importance but were a part of a larger more important picture.  Take out one of the hills and it would be like taking out one of Mona Lisa's eyes.  It's easy to forget about all the things that are dependent on that hill or call it home.  The birds live in the tree that takes root in the hill that guides the river that flows to the ocean that provides the clouds that make the rain that the birds and trees get their nourishment from.  To me it seems the Painter of this picture did not put one brush stroke out of place.  I think the sciences-- biology, chemistry, physics, etc.-- are all just separate disciplines examining a small part of the perfection of the world.  So here I sat on a rock on a mountain, observing the incredible cyclical beauty and I started to think of where my place was in all this.  The most impactful part of the experience was what I felt- the mountain supporting my weight, the grass against my skin, and my body creating an obstacle for the cold wind.  I have never felt so connected with the Earth.  We are not just observers of the masterpiece but are also an interacting part of the picture.  And we have the ability I think to still add our own brush strokes, for better or for worse.  This moment was an awakening of sorts for me to keep asking myself if my brush strokes make sense in the big scheme of things or are they working on a different picture.  We can't have two pictures within the same painting and have it look good.  Our only choice is to accept the painting in progress before us and try to coordinate our hands and brushes accordingly.  Love you all!  See some of you soon!