Eventually I chose a spot to park, after passing a few less promising logging roads in search of the right point of entry, to lead me upwards, towards the promised ridgeline. There was a wide river, pushing it's tannin-stained water over rocks, downslope, emitting the powerful energy that such rivers do. I found myself walking a slow incline beside the creek (a fly rod would have been a great thing to have), the river a continuous cool chatter to my left, the deep greens and mist of the forest surrounding me. Steep slopes cutting upwards towards the high ground to either side of the gorge.
I imagine that there is a threshold, a thin wall, situated somewhere between our earthly struggles, our guilt, shame, fear...and the grace of the universe. Sometimes we bump into it accidentally and for moments or more are loosened from the weights that pull at us, the things that keep us anchored in pain and struggle. Unhappiness. This fragile boundary gives way easily, and we are able to feel that the real purpose of this existence is in letting ourselves step outside of these self-inflicted realities.
As I passed a giant cedar stump I noticed the deep red heart of it. The bank where it had once grown had eroded, at some point breaking the tree open to expose it's core. It was still rooted, hundreds of years of growth and life and staying put to an end more than 30 years ago. But it was beautiful, and I stopped in my tracks to register the energetic pull of it. As if there was a spirit still residing there, I felt compelled to acknowledge it. Hands pressed together, I gave it a small bow. Another one further up the track beckoned to me to do the same. Pause, feel the presence of this wild rooted ghost, and move forward with respect and a sense of wonder. Both stumps, although long cut down were crowned with huckleberry, hemlock and salal, and covered in moss and lichen. Not dead after all, just host to a different being fuelled by the same ancient life force. This is what I perceive anyway.
It is hard to stay in my own sadness in these places, almost impossible to remain in anger or hreatbreak, or some other tortured state. Even though as I move I ponder my life, the various people that have populated it and meant something, and changed me or made me more aware in different ways. The future is unknown, as always. I will be surprised and I will be disappointed, at least I hope so. My intention is to move forward with reverence and a sense of wonder, so that I can meet the what's next with an open heart and mind. And find more delight than disappointment.
