When I hike, I usually start out from an established trailhead, a logging road or a well worn path, but as frequently happens, somewhere along the hike some magical space snags my curious spirit and tugs me off the trail, begging to be explored. It might be an established animal trail weaving away through the huckleberry or sudden shafts of light illuminating a small clearing in the distance. It might be the way a perfect tumble of logs have fallen as mossy bridges across the bottom of a deep ferny gully, or the dark shapes of giant old stumps huddled in groups like families of black bears between the bars of trees. I can never resist the detour, the mystery.
Eventually I’ll settle in somewhere to journal, maybe seated beneath the moss-furry trunks of alders or on some soft inviting knoll. Often I find myself so completely overwhelmed by the beauty that I simply can’t write.
It seems that even my pen, floating above the paper, only wishes to be reverent here in this wild mystery, to simply experience moments of perfect stillness in these changing rivers of light and shadow, the layers and textures of this endless green heaven.
Mossy whispers: Stay curious. Practice stillness. Trust the mystery, it is the beginning of divine adventure.