if the mountain won't come to mahomet ...

there's something about travelling that gives one a new, and sometimes startling, perspective. my trip to calgary has done exactly that. in the week that i left, i was bogged down with marking, writing and worrying and all the time i was slogging through it, i kept wondering why i did so much that didn't make me happy. i was beyond glum: i was tense and grumpy. i managed to affect some quality cheerfulness when necessary and tried to aleviate my blues by spending good time with great friends. though confessing mermaid and j&j were wonderful, (and did much to soothe my weary soul and restore my faith in humanity!), when i boarded the plane for calgary, i still felt unsettled -- nay, wrestless, and not in a good way.
calgary has been the salve i needed. the conference was invigorating and through it i met wonderful friends, including the lovely meg, whose blog i've added to my list of links to the right. k&d are gracious and warm hosts and yesterday we spent the entire day scrambling around in the mountains. to a mountain neophyte like myself, every view was a quotable instance of the burke-ian sublime -- a sublime that i'd like to think shifted something inside me, closing over that gaping hole that was begging to be filled. i feel not only rejuvinated, but restored, and that process of coming back to myself that has characterized the past year and a bit is nearer to being complete. below is a picture i took yesterday while we made our way back from one of our hikes.