Mountain High

So, sorry for not posting much, it's been kind of a downer week, and sometimes, when I"m down, it's hard to post. What with being alone in SoCal, going back to school, and a hard therapy session, I was down for the count. But I"m better now. ;-)
I could write about my limited journey as a Baby-Therapist, but I'm not feeling that so much right now, so instead I'll tell you about my experience of beauty yesterday.
I got out of class and then went to lunch w/ some classmates (woohoo, go me for begin social!), took my walk, and then . . . I had the itch to Go Somewhere. The smog had accumulated in SoCal once again, so I could barely see the next ridge over, much less the mountains to the north, but a few days before there had been No Smog and so I could see these Gorgeous mountains reaching towards the sky, one even with snow on top. So . . . I went. I got out my map of LA and drove north, towards the mountains, towards the light brown sections of the map where no streets or highways marred the landscape.
I never even made it all the way to the mountains. But my journey towards them was so full of beauty, gazing at the mountains as they became clearer and more distinct through the smog and filled more and more of my windshield. I just made it to the foot of the mountains before I had to turn around and go back, but being at the foot, gazing up at them, gave me such a sense of peace, and beauty, and relaxation, such as I have not felt for quite some time.
When Roommate was here, she and I went to the sea, and it was utterly beautiful, but the sea does not fill me with peace the way the mountains do. As I drove, I considered this, and, surpise surprise, I came up with an interesting psychological interpretation:
When I stand by the ocean, beuatiful as it is, I am filled with a deep and fundamental anxiety. There is a cold, creeping finger inside my chest that whispers it's not safe, whispers that if I'm not careful, the ocean will overtake me, will consume me, and I'll drown. By contrast, when I look at the mountains, I am filled with a deep and fundamental peace. Yes, the mountains are big and scary, and yes scary animals live there, like mountain lions and things. Yes, they go up and up and up. But then, they stop. The mountains have a clear, distinct border against the smoggy sky. Yes, they are large and powerful, but they have clear boundaries, I know where they begin and end, I can be certain that they will stop. They're rich brown dirt, warmed by the sun, is firm and steady. I can place my foot upon it and it will not move, but instead will bear me up; there is no danger it will rise around me and engulf me over my head.
Perhaps this says something about the kind of people and relationships I need in my life. I know I often feel like, if I'm not careful, I will be engulfed by my mother and our family in general, and that, if I put down my guard, I will soon be drowned and I myself will no longer exist. I do not mind strong people in my life, on the contrary, I would welcome some. But I need them to have firm boundaries, firm places where they begin and I end. I need to come to a place where I can have firm boundaries with everyone, like a rocky, tree-studded ridge. It is safe to be with mountain people, becuase I am me, and they are them, and there is no danger of the two of us mingling together until I cease to exist.