Listening to the Stars – by Herbert Santos
The wind blows, the breeze caresses
Ferhelin found herself some twenty meters above a river. Looking down, she felt as if she was floating on air – she could see the rushing green water below.
Rising in front of her was a beautiful mountain, part of the range of mountains that extended the entire length of the valley. She stood there admiring the trees that were beginning to take on the colors of various tones of brown and reddish-brown mixed with yellow, the clear sign of the changing season. Behind her she could see the trail that had brought her to this place of beauty, the trail almost lost in the middle of a forest of trees. In the distance, the mountains seemed to roll on forever.
A bridge, long unused, united the two banks of the river that cut its way through the immense valley. The old structure of metal girders allowed someone standing on the bridge to look down into the water rolling over the boulders that covered the margins along its path. Two arches molded the extremities of that ancient bridge. This was the place that Ferhelin chose to admire the beauty around her. She remained there listening to the sound of the river flowing below her, feeling the breeze that seemed to engulf her body, admiring the scenery that filled every aspect of her perception. In some way, she felt protected by the immensity of the mountains that surrounded the river.
Time passed and in the distance, she noticed someone approaching. Soon a young girl stood before her. Her hair was long and drawn back in a pony tail, her skin was lightly tanned and she wore a long skirt and a beige blouse and Ferhelin imagined that she was fifteen or sixteen years old. She smiled as she approached.
Ferhelin, totally relaxed, felt completely at ease in the surroundings of the river, rocks and trees, the soft breeze and the mountains that seemed to manifest total harmony.
When the young girl came closer, she noticed that her appearance was different. “She must be a Canadian Indian,” she thought.
“Hello,” said Ferhelin.
“Hello,” responded the girl, coming closer. “Look at the mountains around us. The wind pounds! The breeze caresses!”
Ferhelin was surprised by her statement, her face bright with a soft smile. For a moment she sat silent thinking about those words.
“We should learn to understand the language of nature. Now the breeze is caressing you,” said the girl captivating Ferhelin’s attention.
Thus began her journey of encounters in the Rocky Mountains. “A journey between the language of reason and the heart,” as she later described it.
That contact with the Canadian Rockies was the origins of new feelings and awareness, and then the girl spoke again.
“What do you think of this place?”
Ferhelin thought for a moment while the girl took a seat in front of her. She was dressed in clothing that was uncommon and different to Ferhelin. They were typical, as she learned later, of the traditional clothing worn by the First Nation’s People, a name that most Canadians used for the Indian tribes that occupied the land before the arrival of the European settlers.
“You know, these mountains are special. They seem to be made of power, beauty and softness,” said Ferhelin looking at the girl.
“Yes, they are all of those things,” she responded.
“The mountains seem to speak,” Ferhelin added.
The young girl looked into Ferhelin’s eyes as she spoke.
“The mountains speak. If you look at them closely, you will see more than you can see at this moment, you will learn what they have to say. See their beauty, their long history, the combination of many differences that create their harmony. Look closely at their subtleties — these are things that you can only see if you look at them with the eyes of a ‘friend.”
The wind blows, the breeze caresses is an extact of the book: Listening to the Stars – Wisdom in the Canadian Rockies
Author: Herbert Santos
Publisher: Trafford Publishing
