My shades of gray

There’s something comforting and reassuring about mountains. Their presence feels connected, grounding, and safe. Unlike the vibrant chaos of fire, wind, or water, mountains embody the stillness of the metal element—solid, wise, and majestic.

In the presence of a mountain, I am humbled. I feel like a child again, carefree and protected, as though the mountains are the steady guardians watching over me. Their silence teaches me to trust. Their grandeur encourages me to play without fear, knowing they have my back.

I’ve always longed to be between mountains, to watch the interplay of light and shadow on their surfaces, tracing the folds that mark their rugged beauty. Despite their roughness, they exude safety. I often imagine that when I am done with the material world, I’ll find my peace in a home atop a mountain, surrounded by their silent wisdom, learning from their stillness and finding joy in their beauty.

Today, as winter begins, I grounded myself in nature, inspired by the little hills opposite my home. The desert called to me, cloudy skies and a brisk wind wrapping me in the essence of the season. My babies and I walked for hours, the vastness of the landscape reminding me of the mountain’s quiet power.

Winter, for me, is the season of warmth—a time for light meals, hearty food, and cuddles. After my walk, I indulged in these simple pleasures, feeling the calm that comes from being connected to nature.

Today tested my wisdom and maturity with moments that could have easily unraveled me. But I stayed grounded, drawing strength from my connection with the mountains. In their stillness, I found the courage to pause, reflect, and act with grace.

I am endlessly grateful for nature, for its ability to teach and nurture. But above all, I am grateful for mountains—their unyielding strength, their quiet grace, and their enduring inspiration.

They are my shades of gray.