Author’s note: This is a brand new bit of writing. It was inspired by my occasional, treasured visits to a place in the Cascade Mountains that is very special to my wife Kathy and I. It is one of the most powerful places for meditation and personal reflection I’ve known in my lifetime.
It is difficult to get to, and only readily accessible in the warmer months — but it is magical, and well worth the trek. I’ll let the piece say the rest.
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The Trail
My footfalls drum the root chambers of the old growth, each step cushioned by centuries of needle-drop in this ancient forest.
Enjoying the rise and fall, twist and turn of the trail, I amble, feeling the smoothness of my walking stick, clutched comfortably in my right hand.
The audible stir of the wind in the treetops, wafting down the western Cascade slopes is invigorating, the steady rhythm of my footsteps almost hypnotic.
Rounding a bend in the trail, brushing through waist-high fern, I crest a knoll and stop – mesmerized.
Filtered by the towering woodland canopy, light drifts down dreamlike, as it settles golden into the sacred space before me.
The power of presence is tangible as a breeze enfolds me, filled with the intoxicating scent of living earth – an addictive bouquet of cedar, Douglas fir, Ponderosa pine, moss, bark, loam, and ionized mountain air.
My spirit rises, my being becomes weightless, my sense of self is floating away, lifted into oneness, wholeness – epiphonal.
I’m startled from my reverie when a young doe bounds onto the trail ahead, standing proud. Pausing in the golden light, she considers me briefly, disappearing as quickly as a stolen glance, as quiet as the passing of time.
Darting my eyes in a vain attempt to follow her, I catch glimpse of silver-blue, shimmering where massive tree trunks part, revealing wind-blow Lost Lake. This body of crisp mountain water is the namesake of this trail I’m following, and my reason for this trek into the wilderness.
Climbing onto a boulder at trail’s edge, I sit, pulling my legs up under me, leaning forward, elbows on knees. I face lake-ward, basking in the energy of this natural cathedral. I become very still, listening, gazing, being — in rapt wonderment at the magnificence surrounding me.
This moment is my prayer. This place is my church. I am in touch with my soul — with the eternal.
Rob Kistner © 4/15/07