In the Rockies

In the Rockies
Butler Gulch

Thursday, May 9, 2013

Going Alone


There is a trail through that deep snow.  It's mostly one snowshoe track to another, but it's there.  As I trekked up the fire trail toward the Mills Lake/Loch junction through snow that was so deep that I had to raise  each foot up several inches in order to put one down in the next track, I was glad it was a bright sunny day.  I was in the shadows a lot, but the sun was shining.

It was like the recent weeks' have been, a lot of the time has been spend with dark memories, dark pain--and my dark side, but I know that bringing those experiences and pain to the surface allows God's light--the best--to shine on them for healing.  And the steps are, like those on the trail, sometimes high--and I can't see what's through the trees or around the next curve.

Another part of the winter trail experience was that I went out for this snowshoe alone--and I didn't see anyone as I stopped and started up the fire trail (and it's the one most used in the winter).  I would learn that there was enough snow on the summer trail, and that those few who were out were on it--spring tourists for the most part.  The hardest journeys are those inside and are journeys of faith--between us and God or as the 12-steppers say, our higher powers.  It would have been good to share the snowshoe; however, I noticed little things that I might not have seen had I been talking or looking out for my companion of this year's snow hikes.

 The same is true of my spiritual journey.  When I am busy, busy
with my various commitments and don't stop and listen and see, I am apt to get lost or miss the signs along the way.  So as I muse about having a special companion--or having others with whom to share the spiritual journey in ways I don't now have, I remember that much of that work is done in silence.

My I-phone didn't capture the sparkle of the icicles.  They were lovely.  And I know I have photos of some cascading down the rocks below from other years in the spring's melt, but each year they are different--as different as the insights from old stuff I have previously visited at some level.

As I started down the summer trail, I met the two men I had seen at the trail head coming up the trail.  They asked how I got there before they did as they were unfamiliar with the trail I had taken.  That is not a question I get in life.  Instead, the question is more likely to be, "Haven't you handled all that stuff before?  Aren't you done?"  I am looking forward to spring flowers, and this week's rain should bring them out.  I'm hopeful that with the flowers, a leveling off will come; but the answer is 'no."  This is a lifetime journey with lots of grace notes along the way.  

Last Friday I had set out to snowshoe to The Loch, a favorite I've missed this season.  I did not attempt the final leg, as there were many "hills" that aren't usually there as I hiked up the fire trail.  I had a time deadline in Boulder too, and that handled any wild ideas of a big push--one I sometimes get after a brief rest.  I now avoid--most of the time--having goals in mind as I travel the spiritual journey.   I used to say, "I'm almost through with this or that."  Some of you remember those days.  Now, as I break open another big piece as I did earlier this week, I know that it will spin and unravel many skeins before it can be cleared away and another piece moves into the upward pattern.  Co-leading the St. John's Healing Ministry Discernment Group is probably not the way to have a smooth road upon which to travel--but who says that smooth is the best?!  Exercising those spiritual muscles must be as good for us as that of exercising our body's muscles. 
Until next time--with hope that the photos won't be of snow!
   


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