This picture says something. Such as, I don't easily fit into a box, especially a small one. Or, that all the world's a stage and we are only actors within it. Or - at the very least - I am a goof, when I want to be.
Of course, the picture also comments on the season: obviously summer since shorts are not usually winter fare in Canada. The event: it's a place I would wear sandals and take my red purse (it seems I like pops of colour in my wardrobe), and yet isolated enough that no one seems to be staring at my obviously ridiculous antics. The place must be old, since the moss is overtaking the abandoned rock platform I am standing on.
All of these inferences would be correct. But what the picture doesn't say is that I was taking a walk around a historic island that day in the heart of the Kootenays, in British Columbia with a friend I met in Bible school. On that island is a quaint little old home from the 1800's that was styled after a Russian Orthodox cathedral. Outside on the lawn I found this rock base and pretended it was a stage for a performance. In the midst of my "performance" that's when my friend snapped this picture. And we laughed about it. And then we moved on.
Another thing the picture doesn't tell you is that my personality is not only goofy. It is actually quite reflective. I actually have a hard time blogging without spending time totally focused on my thoughts. And as fascinating as those might be, they don't make for interesting pictures. (Or do they.....? Note to self: spend one entry posting pictures entirely related to my thoughts.) To tell you more about my reflective personality I would probably need a picture like this:
What this picture says: I am a person who likes to journal in beautiful places. I also like to take pictures of myself journaling in beautiful places. I will sometimes hike by myself to these beautiful places just so I can journal.
What this picture doesn't tell you is that this place is only about a 25 minute walk from my home. And that this particular day, as I walked up the path of the mountain, I had come across a bear. In fact, I walked up behind one that didn't see me and quickly backed up so I wouldn't startle it. Since it was blocking my path down the mountain, and I didn't have any bear spray, I decided to walk up the mountain instead. Maybe not the best decision - but join me in my logic, which thought if I went up, maybe I could find another way down.
The only problem was that when I had taken no more than two or three steps up the path, another big huge hunk of brown shaggy fur ran across my path away from me. I had just startled another bear. So there I was, trapped between two bears on the side of a mountain with only my journal to protect me. I pulled out my cellphone so I could phone my mom and tell her where to find my body. I got her answering machine. Deciding not to leave a message (no point in causing unnecessary panic right?), I recalled what lessons I had been given in my childhood on how to deal with bears - the kind of lessons that all good rustic mountain folk receive. Point#1: bears are more scared of you than you are of them. Point#2: if you make noise while hiking, that will usually scare off the bear before you come upon them. Point#3: Never come between a mother bear and her cubs. Point#4: If a bear attacks drop to the ground on your face and put your hands around your neck to protect it. Point#5: Don't go hiking alone.
Since I couldn't do anything about point#5, and I had gotten lucky on point#3, I decided to take advantage of point#2, to trust that point#1 would remain true and I wouldn't have to deal with point#4. So I started talking aloud, looking for a big sturdy stick with which to defend myself if necessary, while angling myself down the mountain, off the trail, away from the two bears. I bent down to check one hefty looking branch only to find it had been rotted through. Then I looked up to check on the situation. Another brown furry face was staring at me. Was that a third bear, or the second back to take another look? It looked like it wasn't sure if it wanted to run away, stay and stare at me, or attack. Human burgers? I decided that it was a fantastic time to keep talking and walking.
So that was what happened before I took this picture. I walked away from the bears, and instead of going straight home as most sensible young women would, I found a rocky ledge overlooking the valley and sat down and started journaling.
See what kind of stories a picture can tell!
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