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| At the confluence |
We jumped into swimming holes you can understand only by experience. The water so cold and clear
it cleanses your soul from the outside in.
The warm rocks beckon as you pull yourself from the chilly bath – all
worries and stresses washed away.
Time is measured only by the sun, as it passes quickly
over this box canyon. The mornings are
greeted with yoga on Sacred Rock, a strong cup of coffee sipped from a mug that
has a story to tell, a splash of water to the face as it pours off the
pelton wheel; the wheel generating the electricity to power this little
town called Jawbone Flats.
The outside world ceases to exist to those of us inside the
green gate. And yet, it carries on
without us, and us without it.
Breakfast is a leisurely affair, filling out bellies as well
as our spirits. We bask in the
agendaless day. This is a change for me.
I welcome it.
As the afternoon begins, I do the thing I love the
best. I ride my bike. I ride into the mountains, on gravel roads,
beside flowing creeks, past waterfalls and thimbleberries and magnificent rock
outcroppings. I climb and climb and
climb. I know not where I am, but I am certain I know where I am going. I let
my heart lead the way. I sing a song
that is silent, but strong. I am above
the clouds now, looking down into the valley below; vibrant green is only
interrupted by blue sky and the gravel I have just ascended.
I continue traveling east, down loose and narrow twists and
turns, soon giving way to smooth black asphalt, moss the only road markings visible. Turning north again, I pedal on, arriving at my destination, greeted
by friends and the healing waters of the Breintenbush River.
The perfect closing act to a play I wish would never end.
Reality begins to unfold and the work week will soon resume.
To have these few days of wonder and magic and freedom,
I am ever grateful.