The world is our home

New Year has just arrived... and once more, I undertook the quest of making it become somewhat of an improvement or at least a temporal space for growth, when compared to its predecessor.

There's no denying that the world is our home and past midnight was another piece of the puzzle that proves just so. I was among some of my long-known friends (one has been living in Canada for more than a decade, another is spanish despite being born in London) and midnight passed while some of us were singing, playing, dreaming, sleeping, thinking of our distant friends... the ones living next door and others living a world apart (ZIP 94523, I can add one, for example). Distance is merely a factor. Insignificant, one can add, when it comes to thoughts.

People we know, people we love, they all can be present (truly they are), regardless of their geographic position. Regardless of anything.

I have recently found a poem regarding a specific geographic spot: Mt. Moosilauke. This one is located in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, a part of rural New England (USA) enlivened by seasonal forays of summer visitors. Not that it is remarkable or that beautiful, but for each of us, there are places like this that have an extra meaning. Not for me, in this case. I just liked the poem. Hope you do too.

"O, the wind howls over the hills tonight
And wide is the lonely sky
These are our hills when the snows drift deep
When roaring freshets flow
When under the summer moon they sleep
And when the red leaves blow
And where'er we go and whatever we do
Memories will remain.

These are our hills when the snows drift deep
When roaring freshets flow
When under the summer moon they sleep
And when the red leaves blow
And where'er we go and whatever we do
Memories will remain
Of the winds that blew on the trails we knew
In snow and sun and rain.

We shall have known what the dawn wind sings
High on a lonely peak
And learned the challenge the lightning flings
And heard the thunder speak
The splendor of noon and sunset's gold
The stars shall speak their lore
And when we are old all the firelight told
We shall see in our dreams once more".

          - H.P. Haile, in "Mt. Moosilauke"

Simple, right ?!
But nice, like the place seems to be... let's see what tomorrow brings.