Walking into the forest through a magical entry to the kingdom where winds blow strong enough to flip the heaviest objects, and water runs so clear, cold, and swift it can wash away many others.
I come upon the bent tree, imaging the one who formed it this way, guiding me along the path. I turn right, and upon passing I turn, and take another picture. It seems to be a mystical dragon in disguise, a guardian of the way.
The craftsmanship of the bridge was truly a work of art. Firm and sturdy boards laid over beams, created to hold the weight of even the heftiest crosser! Gratitude for opportunity to pass.
I walked along the path, rarely seeing other people. It was a rare experience in this time of life, for there are so many cruising along in the world.
I remember the invisible tension which is always carried. It becomes part of life, only noticed once in the wilderness for several days in a row without disturbance. Day one is quite uncomfortable … there seems to be the need to be doing something every moment. Day two is a little more relaxed, yet the attention is always at a heightened state, as though waiting for someone to burst forth into the open, or to sense someone lurking in the bushes. Day three is when all of this finally leaves the body and a true relaxation is made available to the mind.
The chill of the air so fresh, the smell of the moist soil preparing for life in spring, the aroma of the water giving way to the knowing that fish live there, in the pool just above the log jam.
A magical place indeed. A place that feeds off the tension of a body and mind, that recycles the air exhaled, making it clean and ready for reuse. This is the land which heals, this is the givers of sanity in an insane world. This is the land needing our protection, so it can continue to help us thrive.