Everything in Life is Temporary, Embrace the Transient Nature
I stood at the summit of my mountain, Mount Helena in #Montana, breathing hard after the fast climb I took, trying to keep up with the dog.
Summit of Mt. Helena, Helena, MT January 2020
It was spectacular, as always. No matter how many times I get up there, probably nearly a hundred times in the 20 years we’ve lived here, it always takes my breath away, literally and figuratively. Gazing to the southwest, there are no buildings, just huge, snow covered mountains and forest as far as I can see. To the north is our town’s guardian, the #SleepingGiant, a #mountain I had an opportunity to climb a few years ago. I looked east to see our small city 1,000 feet below me, the Cathedral, the dome of our Capitol building, and the beautiful buildings of #CarrollCollege slightly north of downtown.
Sleeping Giant - head to the right, large nose, Montana
This would be my last hike on the mountain for at least a month, and as my dog panted and slobbered by my legs, I felt it – grief. I would leave my mountain and my dog for an entire month. Maybe this was a mistake. I sat down on a rock and tried to meditate, to just be still for a few minutes to let the thoughts flow and clear.
But I had too much going on in my head, packing, making sure everything was in order in the house, plans to check in with our son who would be taking care of the house and the dog. Far too much clutter was in my head, and I knew the only solution was to raise my heart rate again by jogging down the mountain, watching for trip hazards and ice, not allowing distraction by focusing on what was right in front of me.
When our youngest started high school, my husband and I started talking about what we would do when he left home. My husband already worked remotely for a company, so he could work from anywhere. It was my job that kept us in Montana year-round, and one idea that really appealed to us was living in different places for four to eight weeks at a time, getting to know another town, locals, cultures, and exploring different parts of the world.
Over the next few years, I started to build my #coaching and #speaking business with that idea in my head. I could either make this business successful and generate income, or I would have to find a company that would allow me to work remotely. My eyes were always open to opportunities with companies I thought would be a good fit for me, but nothing ever quite fit. #ElkinsConsulting would have to generate more income.
Our son started as a freshman in college last fall, and when we moved him into the dormitory, my husband and I talked again about our dream to work somewhere else for a month or so. We settled on the central coast of #California for our first experiment in living away like that.
Lots of research later, we decided on a #beach house within our price range, paid the deposit, and began the preparation to live away for an entire month in the winter. No #snow shoveling, no bundling up in hat, coat, mittens and snow boots to go to the grocery store for a whole month. We were both eager, excited, and a little anxious.
It was the day before our trip would begin, and I found myself sitting on the top of the mountain, worried and feeling a sense of grief – of loss – as I contemplated leaving my beautiful mountain, my boys, and that trusty dog by my side.
The next day, we were only 10 miles from home when started thinking of the things we forgot, things we had intended to bring with us, but decided not to go back. And the next evening we were checking into our home away from home, late at night, in the dark. As I used the code to unlock the front door, I could hear the #ocean nearby, but I couldn’t see it.
On our first morning, we walked the block west from our house to the beach and marveled at the little town we would call home.
We went out for breakfast that first morning, and as I walked into the little café with my Gates of the Mountains cap on (a famous section of the Missouri River near Helena, home to a boat tour through part of the Lewis & Clark expedition route), the young woman at the counter said: “Is that hat from Montana?”
Yes, the very first person I met on my first day in a little beach town in California was from Helena. She went to the same high school our boys went to, and had moved to live with her father and finish her senior year in California. Small, small world. That interaction felt like confirmation that we were right where we were supposed to be.
I completely overbooked my schedule that month with travel in the area and guests coming to spend time with us. The time absolutely flew by, but I took great advantage of my time there. I walked on the beach almost every day, took off my shoes and waded up to mid-shins in the ocean, picked up beach glass, shells, and sand dollars, and almost every evening my husband and I would walk to the pier to watch the sunset.
On our last day, after I had most of our things packed up, I walked by myself back to the beach and took off my shoes to feel the #sand and the #sea. Standing there, watching the waves, breathing the briny scent of the ocean, and watching the birds poke in the sand looking for food, it happened again. That moment of grief – of loss – as I contemplated leaving that beautiful place.
Cayucos, CA, February 2020
This time, though, it didn’t last as long as it did on my mountain. I realized it was exactly the same feeling of #grief and #discomfort as I felt before I left my mountain just 4 weeks before. Smiling to myself, I took in my surroundings, deeply #grateful for both the ocean and the mountains, and filled with the kind of #comfort and #peace you can only find when you embrace the temporary nature of life, and make a #conscious choice to live in grace and #gratitude.