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Bell Rock – A message written in stone

I stepped on the path, my black boots quickly covered by the dusty red dirt, excited to be on this trek and wondering what it would bring. The brilliant blue sky washed over me and the path took me in step by step, as I journeyed past twisted trees, rocks, totems, noise, clutter, silence, stillness and myself. I climbed a little past my comfort zone and found a ledge, menacing but inviting. Trembling and low to the ground I reached the beauty beyond it. It was a place worthy of presence, worthy of all of me, worthy of standing tall and secure, of a communion and a true meeting; and I wanted that. I decided to cross the ledge as many times as I needed to get from “trembling and low to the ground” to “tall and secure”. On my third attempt, as I searched for strength and sustenance within, I looked down and noticed “anything is possible” edged in white, next to my dusty boots. I took my message and walked across, worthy now of this meeting and wanting to be one with this place.  I lay down on the cool red rock, bent my knees and planted my feet, I stretched out my arms and planted the palms of my hands, as if I were a tree sinking my roots in the powerful soil, spreading my branches out to the bluest of skies, and taking the wisdom of this place into the very heart of me.

Taking new paths, watching, listening, being present and discovering; I opened myself and found my way.

 

Templeton Trail – The wisdom of nature

It was my first time in this part of town, and I was planning on hiking Baldwin Trail, but I encountered a side trail that bordered a creek and since it was early enough in the day, I decided to venture on. The trail went revealing itself little by little, rising and dipping showing magical spots by the creek, and then it opened up; the sunlight shimmering on the grass and on the water, and the red rock wall jutting up alongside the creek welcoming me forward. Across the creek I could see “Buddha Beach” and the landscape of stacked river rocks; spirit totems left behind by travellers. There was a chill in the air, I stood by the creek and watched the leaves floating by with their icy coats glistening in the late afternoon sun. Big trees bordered the creek weaving their strong roots through dirt and rock, hiding and coming up for air in curious places. I felt like I could see the infinitesimally slow movements of the roots and at the same time the swift flow of the water over the river rocks. All was as it should be and perfectly synchronized, strong and soft, dark and light, wet and dry. I felt like I could stay there forever, as if time had stopped.

The unexpected trail, the side trail, brings us to places we wouldn’t have thought of, places we might not have considered, places of joy, if we allow ourselves to wonder down the path and just be where we are. Be here, be still, be now. 

 

Boynton Canyon – A Warning

My last hiking day, I headed out towards Boynton Canyon, one of my favorite trails. I had been in the area at the start of my trip, and had found a bear warning sign at a nearby trailhead. The sign had dissuaded me from pursuing that particular trail and I had rationalized that there were many other trails I could go on, where I would feel more comfortable and would not have to be looking apprehensively over my shoulder. The week had gone by full of lovely trails, hikes and lessons, and now I stood facing the trailhead at Boynton, gazing at the bear warning sign that I had a feeling I was going to encounter again. Having made up my mind back on the ledge at Bell Rock, that I was going to hike Boynton no matter what, I proceeded down the trail with my new mantra “anything is possible”. I forged on a bit nervous and hoping I would run into other hikers and dogs on the trail, all the while fingering the plastic whistle attached to a chain around my neck.

 

There weren't many hikers on the trail that day, but I did run into a man that gave me a small heart carved out of red rock, a gift which I accepted gratefully. As I journeyed on I noticed little hearts strategically placed throughout the trail, by the path, on trees, on stones; willing companions that cheered me on. Having visited Kachina Woman and Warrior Man, I ventured on with the canyon by my side, past ponderosa pines and towering butes that peeked through the mist. I had hiked in two hours when it started to rain and I turned back, feeling I had challenged myself and faced my fears, and grateful there were no bears in sight.

As afraid as I was of running across a bear, I was even more frightened of not moving, of staying in the same place, of not going beyond. I realized that the real warning was “You are in danger of staying on the same safe path forever. Go for it”!