Blog 70 The Gift of the Wilderness (Gary)

Mark and I hit the trail and I think of our walks as a rock crusher.  Not only are we grinding tiny rocks into the earth, we are talking through our own rocks.  We process stuff out loud for the other to hear, but much of what we are saying is for ourselves to hear.  The hard stuff goes into the machine whole and comes out a much finer compound, laying down a softer ground upon which to walk.  Life is somehow easier having dumped our load of rocks into the machine and allowed the earth and sky to work it out.  Nature has a way of doing that.  She is the silent observer.  There is something alive and working all around us as we talk and walk the earth.

            We often put out our fantasies so we can gnash our teeth about what we wished we had.  Those fantasies, too, seem to go through the rock crusher and become fine sand.  What we used to talk about is rarely mentioned.  The earth has claimed it.

            I look over the valley and am aware that very few of the million people below ever get this perspective.  They may see this expansive valley from a plane, but to see it looking down from the ridge is quite different.  It is the shades of green in each mound of foliage of each hill.  On rare occasions, it gives you the total expanse from San Francisco to the south end of the East Bay.  Now is the height of summer and we see the green and the red coming in.  The red is the poison oak in its glory.

            The flies love me today.  They try hard to bite me.  I am not used to this as they usually leave me alone.  But today they are particularly hungry.  It is morning and they search in vain for their breakfast as I flail away at them with my hat.  They are persistent even when I know I have hit them.  No more shorts and short sleeves for the season.  But it’s just another struggle I somehow enjoy, as I keep moving up The Hill, now focused only on the ground and my shadow.  I can see them circling back.  Hah, it is all part of the struggle for life, and I endure it with that feeling of aliveness.  Perhaps like Moses in the desert.  I would bet he enjoyed eating honey and locusts because he knew in his struggle that it gave him spiritual energy and a sense of purpose.  That is it.  It is a spiritual energy, a greater sense of my own spirit when I struggle a bit.  My body thrives on its aliveness.  It keeps saying I am alive and I thrive here mentally, physically, and spiritually. Getting bitten by life once in a while awakens you or keeps you present.

            H0 brothers and sisters!  I say go into the wilderness and find your spirit.  It does not dwell in the city.  The city is to exist; the wilderness is to thrive.  Spirit is nurtured here. 

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WALKING THE HILL THE ART OF ACCIDENTAL TRANSFORMATION