|Posted by johnnieraz on December 19, 2018 at 4:15 PM|
By John Rezell
Lost in a sea of endorphins, the waterfall cascading from my eyebrow to cheek feels exhillarating rather than annoying.
I savor the sound of my mountain bike tires crunching into gravel.
The sweet scent of true Oregon Douglas Fir fills my lungs with every heaving gasp.
As I crest another foothill of Oregon's Coastal Range the horizon unfolds before me with the wonder of a child opening a birthday present. It strikes me that, from the vantage point of that horizon I gaze upon, I'm the horizon. Nothing but my spirit connecting me to the sky dotted with billows of clouds.
I can't say I've thought often about the horizon. Once brought to my attention I realize it is what my soul yearns for, and where my heart takes me every chance I get.
I continue to flee from big city to smaller city to, now, town.
I understand why, given an hour or two of freedom, I head for the hills.
I understand why I prefer to ride my bike than drive my car.
And why nothing fulfills me quite as much as being out in nature with my wife and daughters.
Trust me, I'm not a complete Oregon hermit. If not for the Internet, I couldn't have landed the sweetest gig I could imagine. I'm a magazine editor living in Oregon working for a magazine in another state. Pinch me.
Yet, for all the advances we appear to make as mankind races into its future at spaceship speed, I find the simplicity of life that has survived the ages as the true marvel of life.