I Walked Through the Mountains

Yesterday was another relaxing day. From Eugene, I drove back to Portland, checked into the hotel and spent some time with a new friend I made at the cat show, Jennifer. She invited me to see the mountains where she and her husband have a nice cabin in the woods North of Vancouver, Washington.

Wow! It was amazing. We drove out through a park and stopped off at park where she used to roam as a kid. We wandered though the rough trails, saw glassy waters, cascading falls, and immaculate beauty. I crouched on some rocks opposite one of the falls and watched the water spray on my glasses. I poked shards of ice in puddles. I closed my eyes and meditated with the sound of rushing water.

It's funny. I don't meditate nearly as much as I feel I should. I've started to more before bed. But when I do… Dio! It's pure joy. My senses come alive. Every touch of stone was more precious. Every water-logged branch that I found from recent flooding was more sensual. I could smell fish on the bark. I could taste the pine in the air. The water splashing on my face. Life was just that much more precious.

We wandered through the trails, the mud, rocks and ice. We climbed over fallen trees cleaned of bark and silky smooth. It was delicious.

Then up to the cabin, we went. Right on the river, it sat humbly admiring the vista. Though I never saw one, Jennifer showed me a picture of a bald eagle that called that stream I-1 as it flew proudly above the rushing waters. We lit a fire and drank hot jasmine tea. I sat by a stove fire and napped in the warmth.

My senses were heightened. I heard the sound of steaming water to my left. What thought was a minute later must've been more. Because when I awoke. I found a kettle on the stove smoking… on my right. And cabin empty. I hugged myself warmly and walked out onto the deck with the brisk air tickling my breath.