Mar 10, 2020
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.
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.
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.
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.