Respite

I am back from a a 5-day jaunt in the mountains. Yosemite again. Is it wrong to be so in love with a place that I feel loss by leaving it? It is haunting to feel such insignificance next to timeless granite and big trees and yet, as I age, I feel more compelled to explore that. But maybe that pull is only a returning to what is true about myself - that I am tiny, flowing, and only ever occupying a moment.

We were fortunate enough to go with a couple of older ladies. Let me clarify, older in age, but in no way limiting their physicality. I am humbled to say these women schooled us every day in energy and will. Faces do tell a story, especially in women. When the only light is a flickering campfire, you can see suffering etched in her reflection. That face shows she has endured and survived. I could be making an excuse for my own face. It surprised me in the mirror this morning, now that I am back in a place where such things exist.

I like my respite in the woods. I like that I can leave my computer, cell phone, and television and still have something to do, or, do nothing at all. I even enjoy hiding in the tent for an hour between 5-6pm waiting for it to cool enough for the mosquitoes to subside. And while I am laying on my goose down sleeping bag, I can trace the light changing through the trees. I love walking on the trail and in the off chance you run across somebody usually they will stop and talk to you - always asking "where have you been, how is it going so far, and where are you headed next?" Those questions are slower and simpler in the woods.