On my way home to Austria, the plane glides over snow capped peaks and endless white landscapes. Floating ice creates patterns in sky-blue water.
In the last two months, I crossed different seasons, land formations, ecosystems and cultures. Modern life lets us outrun the earth. I wonder if the body keeps this pace.
Leaving is always a small sorrow. This time I left my daughter, my grandchildren, my friends, and the quiet beauty of the Sonoran desert.
On my last evening, I climbed Piestewa Peak beneath a near-full moon. The rocks still held the day’s warmth; the air was soft.
At the summit, I lit a candle for joy and peace, as I have for years.
The mountain knows. It is a tiny light mirroring the bright moon above.
The intention for peace seems small in comparison to the powerful moon – but each of us can be this tiny light of hope.
The Palo verde burned red in the sinking sun. A barrel cactus beside stood like a witness to our wars. No owl hovered. Even the night felt hushed. Each step is carefully place without an own light. The moonlight is enough.
I did not meet my mountain friends on the way up and down. Still, I carry them with me, as the plane bears me home.
