As I mentioned last time, the land felt very different once I crossed the Galena Creek logging road, headed east. It didn’t feel friendly anymore. I kept hiking east, taking down more logging ribbon as I found it. Soon my pockets were full of plastic ribbon. I came to a ravine, and didn’t feel like hiking down it and back up and then doing the same again on my way back. I sat down to wait for a sign of how to proceed. Ouch! I sat on a prickly juniper shoot, and got back up again. Mosquitoes buzzed at me, harassing me. I decided to go back to the house and get some insect repellent.
I headed back a slightly different way, and came to a rock face with a boulder slide. I’d never seen this before. A triangular cleft in the rock face beckoned to me. I climbed up to it and sat there, pressed into the rock face. I was worried that rocks would fall on me from above. I tried to ignore this fear, and spoke to the rock mountain, telling it why I was on this medicine walk. I was looking for my purpose. The purpose to carry with me on the upcoming vision quest. My life purpose. The purpose of this day. Why am I on this planet? What am I supposed to be doing here? Is it ever going to get better? The wish for meaning has set me on the spiritual journey. I can’t accept that there is no meaning at all, as so many people seem to believe. Maybe the seeking itself is the point, as Rilke says: cherish the questions themselves. I set my anguish of meaninglessness before the mountain, but I didn’t hear an answer to these big questions that pressed on my soul. Instead, the mountain told me not to listen to people when I didn’t feel like it! Hmm. That was a surprise. (Maybe the mountain didn’t feel like listening to me?)
Across from the rock face was a giant old fir tree. I thought it might be 400 or 500 years old. I felt cold on the cliff, and the tree beckoned to me with kindness. I offered Reiki to the rock face of the mountain, pressing my hands into the cool rough granite, and then climbed down and scrabbled over the boulder slide. I climbed the slight grade of rocks, soil, and grass, and found a spot to sit under the fir, facing the rock slide and rock cliff. A pika came out from between the boulders and spoke to me. It hid, and then popped up and spoke again. This happened many times. I spoke back, but don’t know what we said! I asked where its tail was, for it seemed to be missing. My heart was gladdened by the comfort of the tree and the contact with the little pika.
I noticed there were more mosquitoes here under the tree than there had been on the rock face. I saw how my mind is like a mosquito—never at rest, always driving me on. I felt restless, and wanted something else. I noticed I got fir tree sap on the orange fleece sweater I was sitting on. Fuck! I tried to sense into what I was wanting. Food, a book to read, rich creamy essence. I must be feeling empty. The sun was just hanging in the sky, not moving at all. Maybe I should have stayed on the cliff until it got dark. I guess I’ll just trust that something else awaits, I decided, yielding to the restlessness. To be continued…
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