Attempted Crisis Management: Alone in the Cascades
There’s this meditation guru who says, “if you are breathing there’s actually more right with you than wrong with you.”
My wellness Dr asked me to think about what it would be like to wake up one morning as just myself. Not Veronica the artist, the mother, the daughter, the partner. Take all the identity stuff and strip it away.
Can you do that in your mind for yourself?
Strange, right? And frightening.
It’s like taking off all your armour and then all your make-up and then all your clothes.
It’s protection, right?
In this cute little tourist town, there are all these cute little shops with cute little touristy things, and I saw this flowery sign which reads, “Grow Where You’re Planted”.
I’m thinking about that sign a lot these days. Like when I hiked pass this log. It’s a banquet table for some squirrel or chipmunk who strips the seeds from the pines and scatters the remains around. Or maybe the wind blows them somewhere.
And the seeds are watered and then they sprout and makes the best of the situation and grow…
I was hiking thru these beautiful forests of huge douglas firs and ponderosa pines. Strikingly majesting 200ft tall trees.
Are they the lucky ones or did they try harder than the rest?
Below a bridge across the Icicle River is a small rock island and on that island is a ponderosa pine.
He will probably never reach his potential. Or maybe he has. Maybe that’s his potential.
I stood on the bridge looking down and wondering what is keeping him grounded. Wondering if he ever thinks of letting go and allowing the icy lullaby to put him to rest.
Wondering if he ever laments his fate; his cross to bear for being blown onto this wretched rock.
Maybe he’s connected to the rest of the forest somehow thru the rock.
Maybe the rest of the forest helps keep his spirits up.
Maybe he doesn’t have spirits, feelings. Maybe he’s ok with that.
I can pretty much guarantee I’d let go if I was that tree.
Good thing I don’t have to grow where I’m planted.
I’m not sure what I’m getting at, but I’ll keep thinking on it for a few days and knocking it around.
Hiked: 17.5 miles
Read: Eaten By a Giant Clam by Joseph Cummins, and I Am Her Tribe by Danielle Doby