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.  

Hiking a Back Country Trail

                                                       Ouzel Falls, RMNP, June 7, 2013

While insights abound these days, this bright Sunday morning, I'm sharing my recent hike to Ouzel Falls in Rocky Mountain National Park, a favorite in the early hiking season.  The falls is at its best during the snow melting season, and with the late snows this year, I was sure the water would be gushing over the rocks and spraying the logs where we often sit for lunch.  (And some may remember the falls as my first blog cover photo.)

At the ranger station, I learned that the bridge at the Calypso Cascades, more than halfway to the falls was out.  I would need to take the back country trail, one I had never hiked, to reach the falls.  The parking lot was full of tourists' cars (it was Friday), and I noticed that most were walking on toward the Cascades rather than taking the trail to the falls--and the clouds were gathering early.

I could not help but think of this trail--old and faint at times--with life's journey--and was reminded that delightful surprises exist no matter the difficulty of the path.  The photo below doesn't do justice to the beauty of the aspen leaves beginning to unfurl against the background of boulders and pines.  I simply love this beauty.  The back trail is more shaded so the aspens have been slower to leaf out.

I stopped to photograph and admire their beauty over the first part of the trail and was surprised by big raindrops that began to fall.  When it seemed that they were not presaging a downpour nor were they going to stop soon, I slipped my poncho over my head and walked on.  I was reminded that I was more prepared for the rain than I often am for the showers of life.

This trail meanders away from the river so as its flow got louder, I had to go off trail to see and listen to its sounds--as those of you who have followed me for a while know--a sound that is comforting and healing for me.  It feels as if it is cleansing the dregs and crevices of my life.  I crept close to the water, knelt and let the water flow over my hand.

I didn't know where on the usual trail this one would come out--life for sure--and the few I met were newcomers to the hike and had no idea what my question even meant!  Not so many guides on this part of my life's journey either!!

Since I must quit and get ready for church--I'm the scheduled reader at our church picnic at Flagstaff Amphitheater and am giving a ride to an 86-year-old friend--I'm going to rush along.  When the trail ended, I was about a mile up from the falls on the Thunder Lake trail--not one that was familiar.  Backtracking, I came to the Ouzel Lake Trail and a series of brightly colored boulders (and thought of you Judith -- actually many times on this hike.)  Here they are--beauties of nature that give me great joy!

Have a blessed day!

Under the Armour

Did I know what I would find when I realized, last fall at a Snowmass Retreat, that I had a breastplate of armor that had protected me growing up, and that I needed to set it aside and allow the emotions hidden there to surface for healing?  Since I was familiar with the anger that could arise from behind that armor, I knew the emotions were strong and the experiences difficult.  I also knew that this would be healing and freeing.  I had first become aware of that ball of anger when a man I spent time with in the early 90's touched that pain with words.  It was as if a knife was slicing through my guts. I have touched it many times in my healing journey, but have never been able to get inside it.  So this work has been a long time coming.

I needed that armor and am deeply grateful that I had it.  I count the young girl who developed that armor and the Divine that allowed it to form as one of the greatest blessing in my young life.  The core of the ball that is still unraveling is the fear of being destroyed.  That is strong language, and in my case, this was sometimes a warranted fear.  Other times, there were words, tones of voice and looks that activated fear that felt as if I was being torn apart, thrown aside--feelings that were especially strong when the person triggering them held power over me.

Storm clouds and their shadows can be beautiful, especially when blue skies and white cottony clouds can be seen in another part of the sky.  However, when a vicious storm has brought damaging wind and rain, when lightening has ignited a nearby forest fire, those storm clouds may cause a knot to form in our stomachs, and fear to course through our bodies.  The same is true for words, voices and looks that activate old, often unconscious fearful experiences.

As my ball of fear and pain has been unraveling, I've become aware of why I unconsciously created fear in the two 6'4" men who worked for me in the early days of managing growing grant and loan programs in economic and community development--and how I used some of the same tools that had been used to create fear in me.  Fortunately, I've become friendly, if not always friends, with many of my shadow parts so I am not devastated or upset the way I was when my lovely administrative assistant, after hours on her last day before moving on to a full professional position, told me that these two men were afraid of me.  My mental picture was of a slender 5'4" woman standing between two men, each a foot taller, trying to get them to understand the urgency of the projects they were working on and my frustration when their looks of slow understanding and unhurried voices expressed the opinion that I was expecting too much.  They could have as easily said, "We are state workers.  What do you expect?"

That anger was triggered recently in an e-mail dialogue with one of our pastors regarding the expectations of attendance in the healing ministry discernment group that I chair.  My reaction was over-the-top though the worst of it I kept to myself.  I should have realized the pattern that often occurs when an old deep pain is working its way through to consciousness.

My use of those tactics--a steely look in my eyes, a cold tone of voice (not loud), and words have long been my tools of protection.  At times words are not needed.  I have prided myself on not needing to raise my voice to get across my point--get out of my way, don't touch me, stop now.  I could write an essay, maybe a short book, on the looks that shot fear and feelings that I needed to be squashed--sometimes literally--growing up.   Changing those looks in my life to ones of compassion is the transformation necessary--and God will provide that healing.  My job it to be open to the Spirit's work.

Enjoying the Beauty

Lumpy Ridge near town of Estes Park.  The rock that sticks up to the left of center represented God for me the winter of 1999-2000 when I lived there knowing no one really.

The snow continues to melt, though the high peaks are mostly covered.  This was taken from my friend, Mary Ann's yard in mid-May.

Except for the pasqueflowers in the upper right hand corner, these were all on a well-traveled trail in south Boulder a couple of weeks ago.  The pasqueflowers were near a RMNP trailhead.

Sugar bowls on Goshawk Ridge -- the only place I've seen these

My most recent blogs have been more about darkness than light so I wanted to share spring flowers and the beauty of this wonderful area this morning.  A newer friend and I saw the sugar bowls on a hike last Friday, timed, I must admit to find this early spring flowers--and we did, more of them than I had ever before seen.

I was more enthralled than my friend.  She saw them with interest the first and second time I pointed them out.  After that, they were old hat.

I am reminded of how many times I think, "oh I've seen that before, done that" without recognizing that I am a different person today than I was when I saw, did whatever before.  I can easily say that about seeing the sugar bowls last year when I went alone primarily to photograph the spring flowers on that trail--or the year before that when I took a friend who hadn't been on that trail to see the wildflowers.  And the first time I went the year before that with the local Open Space Parks ranger who told us all about the area, just opened to hikers, and the flowers, rocks, trees, and mountains along the way

And yet--I am also the same in many ways.  I still live in the small condo/apartment and have looked forward to the pool's opening.  I enjoyed spending Sunday afternoon there reading with a little time in the water, greeting a few fellow pool sitters I hadn't seen since last year.

I've shed some volunteer tasks and taken on others.  And my inner healing journey has deepened.  (I'll say more about that in the next post.)

The flowers looked more beautiful--partly because of the long, late spring with snows and cold.  The mountain vistas were clearer.  The friends with whom I shared more dear, especially the one in whose back yard I stood to take many stitched together panorama photos of the mountains.  Perhaps it is because I am older.  Perhaps it is because I think of moving back to the Tennessee hills.  Through whatever darkness--the clouds, my inner journey, the difficulties of family and friends--to enjoy the beauty with which I am surrounded.

Happy Spring!

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!