I DECIDED TO HEAD UP TOWARD WINTER TO SEE IF I

Transcription

1 A Walk in the Clouds I have been watching the mountains the last week or two, sometimes with a passing glance and other times with outright staring. They have been topped with snow for awhile now. The summits are messengers in white proclaiming the change of season with frosty breath. Here in the valley, I ve been gathering myself to jump into winter. It s a leap that takes awhile getting used to, not unlike the last swim of the year when cool air and cold water conspire to make the dip more a matter of penance than pleasure.

2 I DECIDED TO HEAD UP TOWARD WINTER TO SEE IF I COULD AT LEAST GET COLD AND WET So, I roam this dock of late fall, building upon my perverse desire to be lashed by snowflakes or pelted with rain in order to build my immunity against the oncoming rush of deep winter. Saturday morning revealed a dense cloud cover over the valley and a dreary forecast that was conducive to my wishes. I decided to head up toward winter and see if I could at least get cold and wet. In previous years, similar outings have helped me transition from the balm of fall to the bite of winter. Yet, this would not be another normal year. My faithful hiking companion, Noble the-wonder-dog, passed late last December. This was his kind of outing, he and his shaggy coat much preferred cold to the heat of summer. I ve been hiking solo since we parted, but somehow the prospect of this hike carried with it a sense of increased poignancy that may have been part Noble and part seasonal reaction to the shorter days and longer nights. Whatever the reason, I headed up Number Two Canyon seeking adventure while still longing for the company of a dear friend.

3 BY THE WAY, HIS NAME IS LUKE I parked where the pavement ends and pulled my gear from the car. At the ranch across the way, where I am usually greeted by barking dogs, a man called out and asked me if I knew the dog he was pointing to. I said, no. I was a bit surprised that in all the times I ve parked at that trailhead, this was the first time I saw anyone from the property. He went on to explain that this dog might jump the fence and come at me, But don t worry, he is harmless and just wants to go hiking with you. He added, that the dog had already gone off with a hiker earlier in the morning. I thanked him and said it would be fine with me if he decided to tag along. Then the man said, By the way, his name is Luke. I have always appreciated that name! We called our first born, Luke, until the last month of pregnancy when we both decided that he would be a she and a she, she was! Still, I believe a name like Luke can help ground a man-child into the ways and means of character and goodness, like Luke Skywalker or Dr. Luke, the Gospel writer. I looked forward to seeing how the name fit a four-footed creature. Except, Luke the dog, seemed more of the Cool-Hand variety as he casually started sauntering back to the house. I called out softy, Luke. He kept walking. I hailed him more hardily, Luke! He stopped, turned, wagged his whitetipped tail and headed for the gate, which he did indeed jump up onto and wiggled his way over. He dropped down and padded over to meet me and I pet and praised him profusely for his wise decision. I strapped on my back pack and thought, Now the adventure begins!

4 It didn t take long for Luke and I to grow on one another. At first, he ranged farther afield than Noble would, but he kept within sight. At one point, while we humping a steep grade on the Stairway to Heaven trail, he wandered off and I figured he was headed home, but he came bounding back when I whistled and I rewarded him with a long drink from my water bottle. From then on, we kept within close contact. We soon caught on to each other s rhythms which meant, when I stopped to investigate a sight or sound, he would pause with me. I lingered when he was drawn to a scent or distracted by movement alongside the trail. We were tuning in and turning toward each other. Luke also impressed me when he did not run after two deer that passed through a rocky cleft above us. When he walked ahead of me, Luke bore a striking resemblance to Ginger, the family dog, who grew up alongside both our girls. IT WAS A TREAT TO SHARE THE TRAIL WITH A DOG AGAIN!

5 A SIMPLE, BUT PROFOUND GIFT I ve long noticed that my thinking opens up after I ve hit the turn-around point for the downhill run. It seems like the demands of oxygenating my body on the uphill leg, leaves little room for my mind to roam freely. In other words, I do my best pondering while coasting. While I thoroughly enjoyed Luke s company as we climbed toward Twin Peaks together, it wasn t until we started the long descent across the Mission Creek Ridgeline Trail that I began to probe a little deeper into the details of our improbable meeting. I left the cabin looking for cold and wet. They were easy to find, but I also stumbled into the welcome warmth of a kindred soul. This was not a discovery I sought, it was a simple, but profound gift that found me.

6 The reality of this connection began to reach outward like fastgrowing tendrils that wrapped my attention around the many wonders of a chilly day on a high trail. The wheel of natural order was turning. My earlier unsettledness was forgotten, my next steps unplanned, I was moving along the margin of a thin place, chewing on shriveled rose-hip husks and wiping raindrops off my face as I went. The ancient Celts passed onto the early Christians the knowledge of thin places, which they believed were sacred sites or situations where the spirit world leaked into the physical world. The limits of language are quickly met when trying describe what happens when this veil is lifted. That s to be expected whenever anyone attempts to express the inexpressible. What I suspect, is that thin places are elusive targets both out there and in here. These are the unpredicted, unannounced rendezvous points where divine and human love meet and mingle. Like today in the rain. I may not be able to explain the sensation, but I recognize it when it rolls over me. I also know that the shelf life of these moments are not long, so I try to ride the wave until it disappears back into the waters of everyday experience. This wave broke when Luke and I swung east off the ridge-line and followed a muddy lane down the mountain.

7 We only walked about 100 yards before Luke jumped two deer which caused them to bolt across the road and bound up the mountain. This was too much for Luke, so he sprinted after them. I whistled and called, but I had just as much chance of stopping the rain by whistling as I did Luke. I continued down the road and shortly heard several shots from a hunting rifle up on the hillside. There was a short pause and the banging continued as did my concern for Luke. I resumed whistling and calling and whistled some more after the firing stopped. As I turned to look back up the road, Luke burst from the bushes 75 yards above me and came barreling down toward me at full speed with ears laid back, tongue flapping like a flag and all four legs turning at blur-speed beneath him. He didn t begin to slow up until he passed me, then he began tapping his brakes and finally stopped. With chest heaving he looked at me as if to say, What the hell was that? Luke was on the jumpy-side of skittish after that. His lead ahead of me kept getting longer and longer. He also kept his head sweeping side to side as if searching for the source of all the excitement. By time I rounded a bend in the road, I could no longer see Luke. We were only a mile from the trailhead by then and I figured he d had enough of this hike and decided to head for home. I didn t see him at the trailhead or when I drove past his place, but I nodded my head toward him in appreciation anyway. Back at the cabin, I drew a bath, lit a fire and started a crock pot cooking and marveled at all the wonder packed into the last four hours! I left feeling a bit empty and returned plump and satisfied. It was a great way TO WELCOME WINTER!

8 A human being is part of the whole called by us the universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings, as something separated from the rest a kind of optical illusion of his consciousness. The striving to free oneself from this delusion is the one issue of true religion. Not to nourish the delusion but to try to overcome it is the way to reach the attainable measure of peace of mind. Albert Einstein