I can't believe I live here.
I find myself unable to control the reflex to smile while driving down winding roads through redwood giants, in and out of patches of light. The sun seems brighter when it has to fight so hard to make it to the ground. Even just walking up the slight incline from the Tab to the Cave, I am struck speechless, neck craned upward, attempting to soak up every drop of beauty.
I am continually catching my breath, being slapped in the face by the incredible glory of the master architect.
Thursday night I hiked up the mountain Alliance Redwoods is situated on, making my way up the trail in the dark for a little solo-rejuvination time. I wanted to try and hike the whole thing in the dark, relying on my rods and rhodopsin, but I chickened out. I'm going to blame it on the cloud cover but maybe I just need to eat more carrots and man up. I definitely needed my headlamp though to set up my borrowed tent in the blackness. Snapping out the poles made me think of Maine, and Paul and WILD ladies and gents. So I laid out my sleeping pad and stuck my head out the tent door and just stared up into the night sky. Thinking about memories from last summer in the wilderness of Maine, praying for friends, thinking about this new place I'm in, and the people here. After some reading, I slipped into some crazy dreams, and woke up to the hooting of an owl. The grey sky slowly being illuminated by the hulking, burning mass pushing itself above the horizon. I walked slowly down the dirty path breathing in the fresh air, watching the sun flit and flicker through lichen covered branches and twigs.
Alliance is a mixed forest, and one of the friendly neighbors of the Costal Redwoods are Madrone trees. The Madrone tree is phototropic, meaning it bends and twists itself, always reaching toward a sunnier spot. This bending and twisting is a pretty good idea seeing as they're living among the tallest trees on the planet who hog up all the light before it reaches the forest floor. Maybe it was just the time of day, but it was interesting to see that in some places, the Madrones had bent perfectly to receive some of dawn's light. And in other places, their branches hung in the shade.
During training, I decided that the Madrone was my favorite tree. All twirly, its fallen bark exposing deep reddish hues set against vibrant green leaves. And this sun chasing it does, I can totally relate. But this morning, I saw it in a "different light".
How often do I chase after something that looks like the sun? Momentarily, the sun is right over there, so that is where I want to be. Life will be better there, warming and more nourishing.
The problem is the sun moves.
Don't get me wrong, this ability of the Madrone is totally necessary for it's survival and totally bomb, but, let's just set that aside for a moment.
The point I'm trying to make is this, that I chase after the sun and have to keep bending and twisting trying to find it's next location. When maybe, just maybe, I should stubbornly grow straight up. Not wasting my energy twirling and swirling around, but just heading upward. Standing on my tip-toes, one arm extended, stretching up toward the One responsible for my existence. Because if I keep my focus up, I'll be guaranteed to find the sun. And the son.
I love that there so many are lessons in these trees. Hanging like ripe fruit, just waiting to be plucked and ingested. All that is required: the courage and diligence to get out my basket and climb up the ladder.
