Without Access

       Boulder Creek -- back in its banks, but much more than the meandering stream expected in the fall.

September and October, sometimes even November, are usually among my favorite hiking months.  The fall light is lovely, seeping through the deep yellow leaves.  The mountain sides, the creek sides are blanketed by aspens and willows turning yellow, gold and occasionally red.  I have walked among them filled with delight at the sight and sound of those leaves (especially the Aspens) humming in the breeze.

This has not been a typical year on Colorado's front range.  And as a friend and I mused recently, the loss of our hiking access and damage to the local trails is small when compared to friends who lost everything and others who are dealing with lower level living spaces that are not yet habitable.  Few basements in Boulder County are used as storage and junk areas.  Instead folks extend their living spaces by finishing basements into bedrooms, recreation rooms and great rooms.  One friend even had a grand piano in her finished basement that flooded.  

                                                                        Near Georgetown

I drove into the edges of the high country--across a pass and down into Georgetown.  I found a picnic area in which to eat a sandwich I'd brought along.  There were pull offs with short walks, but it wasn't like hiking among the leaves.  I did love the grandeur of golden mountain sides more fully covered in aspens than those up Boulder Canyon and on view from the RMNP trails.  First we couldn't get up the canyons to reach the park; then the park closed, and now the leaves have dropped from their branches.

This time of finding open trails in the flats of Boulder, watching for and taking walks on parts of trails as they opened, and finally driving, Wednesday afternoon, up the newly opened Boulder Canyon Drive to Nederland, has made me think about how I would find the release and nourishment that my usual hiking brings should I decide to move back to Nashville.  There, to find the up trails that I love, would also entail a drive--perhaps to Monteagle or Sewanee.  There are parks with trails in Nashville, as there are here--not as many for the area, but they exist.  However, I spent many more hours walking or running on sidewalks and streets years ago when I lived there.

                                      From the partially open Boulder Creek path two days ago

I haven't yet found the answer to not really hiking--just taking long walks or going on a trail until I reached the yellow tape that closed the remainder of the trail--doesn't give me that release, that sense of being away, of the challenge of going a little farther, of standing in awe, of being alone in God's beautiful world.  I did do a panorama of past year's golden hikes--I didn't have to look at photos to go there.  I know there could come a day when that's the only way I can enjoy the fall season, and I'm grateful to not yet have reached that time.  There are more changing colors at the nearby park and the Boulder Reservoir path a five-minute drive away has re-opened.  I will walk there this morning, and I will enjoy it.  However, I haven't yet found the answer to doing without mountain hikes.  The search continues.

A Spiritual Place

                          Chaco Canyon View -- (Part of a Panorama so it won't allow a bigger photo)

Chaco Canyon is not an easy place to reach.  It is between Farmington and Albuquerque, New Mexico, in the middle of barren desert.  Your only choice to stay nearby is that of camping in the park in a rather rustic campground--best done in a camper.  We stayed in Farmington and drove the almost two hours to reach the park, ending the drive on a mostly flat dirt road in barren desert country.  And suddenly there were canyon walls.  Driving in, before we saw any ruins, we felt the spiritual force of the place.  For me Chaco Canyon was much more about the energy of the place than about the ruins though the ruins were large and easier to see and spend time in and around than those in Mesa Verde (about which I'll write another time).

A fellow Daughter of the King, an international prayer order whose cross that I wear identified me, was a ranger there and our guide for a two-hour tour of Pablo Bonita, the largest ruin in Chaco Canyon, pictured from a distance below.  It was four-five stories at the back walls and had over 600 rooms.  Our guide spoke of how the people there must have lived, pointed out the detailed rock work, and we noticed that even the storage rooms were done with care.  This entire canyon was filled with astonishing structures around AD 1020 - 1120.

             The people must have been short!

Unprepared for a rocky hike!

Our guide, wanting to be sure we were having an enjoyable time, followed us to the next ruin on the loop and introduced us to the Navajo man who had been the master of restoration in the park for a number of years.  He told us he was the only Navajo (a Hopi reservation adjoins the park) and also a medicine man.  He said those working there needed his healing services frequently.  

And the canyon itself--we could have spent many more hours there, but did take time for a brief walk/hike.  It appeared that we wouldn't be going up the hillside--just a little walk around some small ruins.  When the trail turned up a rocky slope, it was impossible to stop.  The feel of the space and reaching a height where we could survey the area was enticing.  The photos give you only a tiny sense of the grandeur of Chaco Canyon.  I would love to return, stay overnight and hike the trails.

PS:  I've been trying to post this for about a week.  Hope it happens today!

Scrambles Up and Over -- and Partners on the Way

                                                      Chasm Lake surrounded by amazing rock walls

Early this morning I was musing about my good fortune with two recent hikes--Chasm Lake and yesterday's Lake of Glass/Sky Pond.  Both are hikes that require "scrambles" up and over rock faces, the one yesterday over wet rocks.  They aren't hikes to take without a good partner.  That's because those "scrambles" up and over the rock ledges are for me, a stretch.  A first glance as I looked at the wet boulders in front of me yesterday, I didn't see a foothold that I could reach.  They were there.  I'd done this hike so I knew I could do it.  I'd needed my hiking companion when I'd done it in other years, and I definitely needed a companion up in front this time around.

                                                   The "scramble" up to the lakes is behind me.

A companion who was confident supported my confidence.  And she was sure that I could do it too.  Our third companion decided that this part of the hike was not for him.  He waited and was there with the intent of catching us if we fell on the way down.  More about those who catch us when we fall later.

                                    My companion (Colleen) with the Lake of Glass meadow behind her.


I looked back at photographs of hikes before I'd gone digital.  They were from our big hike years of 2001 and 2004--nine and eleven years ago.  There have been a few challenging hikes since that time, but not as many.

It made me wonder about those scrambles in my life too.  In 2001, and even in 2004, I believed in my memoir.  I believed it was a book I was supposed to write, and I believed it was supposed to be published--not by me, as in self-publishing, but by a trusted publisher.  My Holy Spirit guide tells me still that this is true, but with all the stops and starts in procuring an agent, I am reluctant to take that on as I did before--as a job that I worked regularly.

I have also believed I had a healing message to get out to those who have been seriously abused, especially those with a background similar to mine.  However, the easiest path to talks has been to speak to church or spiritual groups.  I've enjoyed doing that, and others have been touched, moved and gained insights.  But they haven't easily led to more talks.  That may be a message--or it could be that I haven't tried hard enough.
I remember a woman priest saying to me a decade ago that my ministry would always be to those most wounded.  While I have believed that, I haven't made real movement in that direction.

I believe in the cause that has taken a lot of my energy in the past four and a half years--our local CASA agency supporting abused and neglected children.  We do good work, and I believe I have made worthy contributions.  The thing is--couldn't those contributions have been made by others?  Realizing that deeply is what led me to say I wouldn't commit to another year as president of that board.  Letting go of that job at the end of this month is a journey, as letting go always is.

So I'm saying, "Here I am, Lord."  I'm ready to do what only I can do, what you have me here to do.  I'm saying this knowing that the Spirit is with me and will serve as a confirming guide.  I'm also saying this knowing that the partnership I need isn't visible.  That's not saying I don't have friends who support what I believe I'm to do--and think they know how I should publish the book!  They'll say "great" if (or when?!) it happens, and a couple of them will listen occasionally as I make my way through the process.  But a partner is more than that, and a partner is needed.  That partner needs to believe with me (even when I'm not so sure) and be there, maybe not to catch falls along the way, but to soften them.  I might need to make a similar commitment in turn.  Wonder what that would look like?

This is a "scramble" that I'm making room for, I don't know what the journey looks like from here on.  I can't see to the next steps.  It seems to be this part of life's scramble for me.

                                                       Lake of Glass -- RMNP

A Warning Dream

           The trail and view from my "going it alone" hike last Friday--and can you see how rocky the trail is!
                                                                St. Vrain Mountain trail.

A dream that wouldn't let go is one I've found that I need to wrestle with, and this early morning's dream was about what feels to be my "work" call.  I was visiting a group to whom I was scheduled to speak--a group in a sophisticated Methodist church in Nashville.  A friend had gone with me.  I didn't get to the group's Sunday evening meeting until after they had begun.  I was tip-toeing around, timid.  I met their associate who mentored the group and didn't say that I was scheduled to speak--just something silly about being Episcopalian in a Methodist church.  Afterward he disappeared, and I talked to the two women group leaders.  One said, "I thought that was who you were." when I said I was scheduled to speak later.  The other asked if I usually gave my talks in my home!  That was how I was showing up.  Little lady, not a professional speaker or program leader--timid and unsure.

Fast forward -- I'm giving the program to that same group.  I begin with hesitation, stumbling over my beginning.  I'm combing through my written program notes at the same time.  I assumed that I would remember and hadn't reviewed.  After the false start however, I get it together and everything works.  Afterward participants are moved, excited, have something to take away in their own life's journey.  I'm asked who is doing my future scheduling.  Who is supporting me in my efforts?  My son is there (very odd) and says he is the only one.  He would be happy for some help.  Some elusive (vague in the dream) person offers support.  The dream ends as I talk about how I want to speak to mental health groups and those offered for sexual abuse survivors.

                             Perhaps a few flowers will grow among the rocks and streams of life.

My long-time Jungian-trained psychoanalyst and spiritual director emphasized that dreams always hold information for the future.  This one feels loaded.  And it fits with where I am--feeling hesitant as I carve out small pieces of time to attempt to schedule future programs.  I might easily sound like the woman who gives programs in her home (not bad if you are a priest as one here is since all know that she can speak anywhere).  And I am often so sure that the right words will come that I skimp on preparation.

Support -- I need to be open to the support I need being available.  And the inner support is too.  It's those self-diminishing voices in my head that I need to ignore.  And that voice that says, "You are alone.  There's no one who wants to help."  It's a childhood voice.  I know that.  But then I was so sure about writing the memoir and that it had a place in the world--and after all these years, that place hasn't been found.  It has shaken my confidence in my "work."

              The "flowers" growing may be many but not so easy to see.  (mountain harebell bellflowers)

At a recent healing prayer group meeting, one of the members prayed for me asking that I know which things I needed to let go of and let them float away.  I knew at the time that there was wisdom in those words.  It appears that feeling a lack in what I have to offer is a big one.  The Spirit wouldn't call me to do something that wasn't mine to do--and that wasn't of value to others.  And at age seventy-five, the time must be now!

Thanks for being with me in my debrief.

                                            A few may sprout and blossom in tough terrain!
                                                                (subalpine larkspur)

An Inspiring Wildflower Season

Fourth of July Trailhead above Eldora (Boulder County)

Parry primrose on a bank with lots of water -- Butler's Gulch in the near high country between Empire and Winter Park

My plan -- to share the best of this season's wildflowers -- has turned into more of a task than I'm up for.  So other than the top picture from Boulder County's best trail, these are all from Butler Gulch.  Since the Butler Gulch trail leads to flowered meadows above tree line, it is similar to the high country flower areas that are too far to drive in a day.  This one is 150 miles round trip, but since most of it is interstate, it takes about an hour and fifteen minutes to get to the parking area--about the same time it takes to reach most trails in Rocky Mountain National Park, which is about 80-90 miles rt.

I went by myself, but was accompanied back down the trail by a young Korean man from Denver, who let his five friends continue their run toward the parking lot without him.  He had the car keys so didn't worry about them leaving him.

This is what I'm climbing that last steep part of the trail to see--meadow after meadow of wild flowers!  On the hillside above this meadow I found these columbine in stages of bloom backed by dwarf chiming bells.

And though taking pictures of myself doesn't bring the best result, this gives you a sense of the fields and how delighted I was to be there!

And there were these lovely yellow-green ones too.

A close-up of the rose paint brush behind me.

              And the stream--near one of the crossings--and there are three.  On this trail, it's guess how you can get across without getting water in your boots.  And I did it--barely!

Do notice that the new photo for the blog is also up high on the Butler Gulch meadows.  I sat among the flowers and ate lunch.  I hope you feel as if you have been somewhat with me on this wonderful hike.

I wondered if it might be the last time I took this trail as I ate my usual hot fudge sundae in the ice cream shop in Empire and watched the rain pour from the skies, waiting for it to lack before starting back toward home.  I am truly blessed to have these wonderful hikes and this beauty waiting.

When Things Seem As if They Are Going the Wrong Way

    This spot in a huge Boulder was pointed out by my friend visiting from Nashville--a geologist by training.  In today's blog, it represents how I was feeling and the force I felt I was pushing against as I began writing.  Looking closely, it holds beauty too.

This post will really be about beautiful wild flowers and hikes.  The title doesn't sound that way.  I know. And the new blog cover photo was taken a couple of weeks ago in that same wonderful meadow at the top of Butler Gulch off the highway between Empire and Winter Park--a 150-mile round trip so it's one of my summer luxuries.

Our "new" Voices For Children CASA (Court Appointed Special Advocates) Executive Director completed her last day about 2:15 last Friday, and another search is on.  The committee isn't as strong as last year's, not as independent of the loudest voice.  I don't have as much influence as I'd like with the committee chair, and yes, as board president I appointed her.  It feels out of control even though we have several qualified candidates.  Perhaps out of control is good.  Maybe mixing it up is the way we'll come up with the best candidate for the job at this time.  It doesn't appear that we will get the most qualified candidate, but perhaps someone looking from a different point of view will be good.

I'm rationalizing.  But for my own well being, I must let go of the outcome.  I am letting go of the board presidency at the end of my term--September 30th--and don't remember when I've felt so "right" about moving away from a leadership post.  It's a little hard to see that end right now as I'm the go-to person for the staff, and have the responsibility to be sure grants are mailed/finished, meetings attended, and all is well at the office and that plans for our big fundraising luncheon on September 20th are on track.

Did I just make the case that I have enough on my plate without trying to control (guide I would say) the search outcome?!  Is this just another opportunity to let go of power and control--one of the ego centers that gets in the way of the true self showing up?

I have a practice called "the welcoming prayer."  It's welcoming the distress showing up from one of the three centers of need that get overblown and govern our lives--power and control, esteem and affection, and security and survival.  That practice works in reverse.  As I say "welcome, welcome, welcome my need for power and control in this situation," over and over the angst begins to loosen.  I'm doing that now.  Next I will welcome my need for esteem and affection as it seems to be playing in this scenario too.

Now to the mountains and flowers, which actually aren't part of this blog after all.  I'll write about them in another post.  Here are a couple of photos that remind me that creation is good whether or not things are going my way.

          Above, me at the falls below Isabelle Glacier, taken by
         friend John Bowers from Nashville during our Indian Peaks
         Wilderness hike last Tuesday.   To the right, paintbrush
         above Isabelle Lake on the same hike--from my I-phone.

Peace, Beauty and A Warning

                                              Heil Ranch -- Color is mostly grass in early summer

This morning I am particularly grateful for inner peace.  This deep feeling of peace came unexpectedly last night after a week of stress and a day when it seemed to pile up.  The stress of having our "new" Voices For Children CASA Executive Director resign after not quite six months is a real one (I'm president of that board).  Unusual inner anxiety about my two "up front" tasks at the church service had passed without a flub.  The discovery of the strong relationship my Healing Ministry Group back-up leader has with our Rector--evidenced in our meeting when it seemed that I was the observer -- provided stress on my ego.  It's always an initial jar to see my replacement so clearly, although it was also comforting and freeing.

The absence of my daughter in my life too was brought close in an unexpected way.  On Facebook I discovered that a high school friend had come to Colorado to vacation with Michelle, and I hadn't heard from her.  This friend has become one of the few I always see when visiting Nashville (was one of the girls who called me "Mother Means" and as an adult sometimes refers to me with that name).  

There was a fantasy relationship that I was also letting go.  With all of this sloshing around, I wasn't peaceful!
Even the anticipated pleasure of going to Nashville this Friday for my 75th birthday celebration with family and friends wasn't easing the stress.  Then as I sat on the bed and half watched a re-run of Elementary, a deep peace surfaced.  It was (and I can still touch it, though not so profoundly) that "All will be well" peace.
Amazed, I simply sat with it.

With the prospect of a busy day with an emergency board meeting of VFC CASA, I put away the novel I was reading early and went to sleep.  It seemed that I barely closed my eyes when a strongly distressing dream woke me.  It escaped being a nightmare because I wakened immediately.  In a vehicle, I was being high jacked by first one, then two, burly characters, taking over the driving and pushing me into the back seat.  When I tried to open the door, another burly character blocked my way--and as I was beginning to feel there wasn't a way out, I woke up.  For me, this dream was clearly a warning that the path I was supposed to be on was in danger of being high jacked.  Whether the three characters had meaning, I haven't discerned.  However, it was clear that I was taking the VFC CASA concerns as my mission to solve--that old ego saying, "It's up to me."

I had readily accepted my first choice as the Search Committee chair's reason that he couldn't serve.  He just received a big promotion.  Last year's chair is waiting on confirmation of a new full-time job before saying that she will even be on the committee this time.  These were obviously valid reasons for limiting participation.  Why could I not have easily seen that while my "work"--focusing again on obtaining an agent for the memoir and working to schedule programs in other areas--was as valid and needed my time?  It's that old thing of the obvious need in front of me calling--and my ego's "I must be the one to solve this problem."

Interestingly, our Associate Rector's homily had focused on the danger of letting our egos take over by puffing up--or by believing that we were indispensable!  So today I'm meeting with a newer board member who has enthusiastically agreed to chair the Search Committee and letting go of (at least trying) my feeling that she will need propping up along the way (and of course, that I will be the one to do it!).  I'm saying that I trust that the person we need to lead VFC CASA's important mission of being a voice for neglected and abused children in the Boulder County Court system will show up.  I know that the more I trust, the more I can let go of the angst that this resignation has brought--and interact with compassion with the one who is leaving.

Inner peace is a blessing.  It doesn't necessarily mean that all of these insights will promptly cause calm, assured behavior.  It does give me a place to dive into as a swirling of stress begins to form.

Rivers meet along the Camp Dick Trail

Soon I'll write and put up photos of early flowers that i intended to include this morning.