Come walk with me through the forest.
That’s what I heard as I woke up to a bright sun shining through my car window. I’d gone to sleep here, in this dirt parking lot off the highway, the night before….
The night before. Ugh, I’d felt so terrible.
And that cut deeply, because I came up here – up here to my beloved mountains – to feel good once again.
It had been a few weeks since I’d felt good.
Actually, several weeks ago, I had felt fuller than perhaps I ever have in my life.
Having crossed the finish line of my 100 miler, my own sense of accomplishment, combined with the overwhelming amount of praise I received from others, had lifted me higher than I have ever felt.
But these things fade – always quicker than we would like them too – and in its place was one dark void.
A void: one crafted by a need to stay still and recover from this physically depleting event.
A void: one that was soon overwhelmed with dark waves – here to remind me of dark moments passed and the marks that had been left on me; and, perhaps, here to be more fully recognized, felt, processed, and sent on their way.
–
For weeks, I had rested in this space, allowing the dark waves to continue to crash over me day after day. There I sat – no longer with the ability to head off to the trails and work through these sorts of things while I pushed up a hill or danced through dirt and rock and trees.
It was always nice to have the company of the forest – or the mountains – as I processed the many deep, and often dark happenings in my own, internal experience. It was always supportive to be in motion – to be moving this dark energy through my body, allowing it to co-mingle with the bright and shiny light from the adventure.
But it wasn’t time for that sort of thing. I had pushed my body beyond a reasonable limit, and as I had promised it in turn, now I would let it rest.
–
After what I had reasonably thought to be a thoroughly sufficient amount of time, I was so ready to leave that void. I was desperate, and I finally put my foot down, packed up the car, and headed up here to my beloved mountains.
It was finally time to go. Summer was drawing to a close, and if I wanted some time up in my beloved space enveloped in green covered mountainsides – spots of bright pinks, purples, yellows, white, and other brilliant colors of wildflowers brightening my world – well, if I wanted time in this space before the bright colors faded and the dull brown set in, I needed to move quickly.
The thing is, I had a new problem. Nothing big, just a bit of a cold that had mostly passed by without much of a fuss, only a slight cough still lingering.
Ugh, well I could stay home until the cough passed, but that would risk missing the last of the greenery in the alpine tundra, and I would continue to be driven down this melancholy road that I was ready to leave.
I felt like I had no choice. I had to go.
Up there, I have a long list of trails to run and mountains to climb. And I mean a seriously long list, for the countless peaks and endless trail system that weave together through a vast expanse of mountainous terrain provides lifetimes of opportunities for an adventurous soul like me.
Which one could I tick off next?
While I had a short list of more technical mountains I wanted to climb, my car ended up taking me to one that was more runnable (that is, less steep and less technical), and had been high on my list for some time.
The day was spectacular, as is any day spent up in the spectacular terrain.
The day was, also – well, miserable.
That little cough of mine – it exploded as I moved through the mountains. And, while I was able to soak in the scenery and say hello to all my dear peak friends from my spectacular vantage, I couldn’t help but notice…
That feeling – the one that I hold so dearly, and the one that I keep heading up to experience in this grand arena as it fills me up, takes over, and brings me to bright places…
That feeling – of my heart igniting and my soul feeling so content.
I could always count on that feeling up here nestled in with my beloveds.
But this day it wasn’t here.
I had three more tick marks – 3 peaks crossed off – all in one day! I had done one more spectacular thing.
And for what?
That evening I found myself parked at a different trailhead: another section of trail I’d been waiting to tick off.
Following a pattern I’ve been following for some time, I did the big run during the day. Now, in the glow of the evening, it was time for an easy hike.
I started hiking upward. And my lungs began to protest.
Coughing…
Choking…
Air – where was the air?
For reasons programmed deeply inside me, I kept walking upward. I had to get to the saddle, for there, at a high vantage, I knew I would find answers that I was seeking.
They had to be up there… they always found up there.
Answers – ones that may lead me out and away from these dark waves that just kept crashing.
Answers – ones that illuminated paths forward to brighter days.
As I kept walking, the discomfort in my lungs continued on, until, at last, it hit me:
The ridgeline – I would not be making it up there. Between my protesting lungs and the fading light, it was not a possibility.
Instead, I settled for a large boulder, planted myself down, and looked up at the grand mountain.
This grand mountain – it had held me through one year after the next. Having come to this spectacular gorge – surrounded by peaks and cut through by a beautiful crystal creek – I had spent one night after another looking up the canyon at this towering mountain.
Through the years it had held me, and on this evening – having been in this dark space where I’d been twisting and turning over answers – I thought, perhaps, that wandering up here would provide me what I needed.
It turns out I didn’t need to make it to the ridgeline – the reasonable high point – for the message came through loud and clear.
Here, taking one slow step after the next and finally sitting down to rest, I received the message:
What the hell are you doing here? These mountains, they are not yours to climb; at least, not today.
Hmmm, I suppose that seemed obvious enough.
A second part of the message continued through:
There is a different mountain – one ahead of me that I am ready to climb. The thing is, I’ve been dancing around it for quite some time, but it’s here for me, waiting.
And the time is ripe to begin that new climb.
That evening I spent the night camped in a parking lot along the Colorado Trail. I had driven there the evening before, having planned on heading straight home that morning.
Instead, I awoke to a gentle pull – an invitation to the trail, accompanied with a message:
Come walk with me through the forest.
Walk; the idea was clear. I would not be running; I would not even be seriously hiking.
The game for today was to move slowly.
A walk through the forest.
I began walking the trail – cup of hot tea in hand, an extra measure to ensure that I would, indeed, move slowly. The tea wasn’t necessary, for any time I sped up to any sort of pace, my cough would start up – a clear signal about what the pace was to be on this day.
And so I proceeded, understanding fully the rules of today’s game.
There’s something magical that happens when we slow down. For example, you can notice the gentle rays of sunlight falling through a dark green canopy, dancing along clusters of needles, bouncing off to fall gently on my retina; my skin; my soul.
There’s also something magical that can happen when we speed up! When we charge forward; when we put our heads down and grind it out until the work is done.
The question isn’t which mode is better – which is the right way to move through life. Rather, the more appropriate question seems to be, What is each moment in time & space asking for?
With right attention and corresponding movement, we have the ability to engage in the dance of life as it unfolds along limitless possibilities.
The question becomes, which path are you choosing, and is that path aligning with the greater balance at play in your life?
For years now, I’ve been out on the trails – climbing up mountains, running along dirt and rock, dancing through the tress.
I’ve been out here pushing myself – growing stronger, becoming more capable.
At the same time, I’ve found myself engaging in one particularly special space – one that is accessed when we are so fully present in each experience for all that it is.
And sometimes that space is brilliant, and joyful, and brings that fulfilment that we are always craving.
Other times, the magic unfolds as the slow, and sometimes even painful unwinding of the dark swirls that have made their homes deep within us…
I don’t often step into this space perfectly, but with every trip out onto the land, I have been brought into the alchemical experience that involves the blend of dark feelings; the rush of accomplishment; the support of Mother Nature, and whatever else presents itself –
All coming together in one space to be felt; to be moved; to be witnessed.
I’ve learned to always come back to this question: What is being asked to be known on each day, and am I willing to allow it to move as it needs to be moved?
With strong will and determination?
With a gentle wander?
With stillness?
Come take a walk through the forest, and wherever you go – whatever paths you choose – may they lead you deeper into a greater knowing, transformation, and a blessed journey through it all.