Our footsteps are heavy. If we stop there is not a sound. The birds hold their breath and wait for us to continue. The breeze barely whispers and the sun shines down on the path. New trails and we look forward to each bend, looking down each ravine and upwards to each mountain that comes into view.
It is a beautiful late winter day and we are alone on the paths. The blue jays at once boisterous. A hawk flies overhead. Finches speak frantically all at the same time. The blackbirds have a meeting. Bobcat tracks come out of the ravine and disappear down the road we follow, eventually changing into dog tracks. The breath of inner peace and sanctuary flows through us and our spirits are set free within the natural world. No cars. No sirens. No machines.
It is in this world that we find clarity and ideas. When we are open to change and revolutionary creativity. It is where healing transpires and life simplifies. The more time one spends in nature the more keen the senses become. One would know the perfect time to harvest Mountain Mahonia roots. And one would recognize the lightening of the textured bark upon the Ponderosas, the smell of vanilla filling the air as the sap rises from its depths. The forest floor comes alive. As do we.