This Aged Foothold
Chapter Six of Water through Fingers: Haiku on the High Sierra Trail
This aged foothold,
this strewn and tangled pathway,
goes straight to the heart.
IF THE SUN CAN SMILE it is smiling on us now. It drapes our weary shoulders with a bright warmth. A monarch beknighting his servants. It is mid-morning as we struggle our bodies and our packs up the trail. The trail has turned upward, leaving the long canyon. In the canyon, a small river called Kern has made its way for centuries. With the help of tectonic movements it opened up a great rift in the midst of the mountains.
In that canyon below, tall trees and forest scent surround one. The river sparkles over rounded rocks, and a lazy trail meanders along for mile after sweet mile.
Now, up and out of this sheltering place. The place where we bathed in hot springs and let our bodies rest for a time. We look to the day ahead.
The wilderness is kind and is a great and gentle teacher. Looking at the rough terrain one would not know this at first. But here, it teaches us about our place in the world, what we can and what we cannot do. Wilderness, nature, is teaching us every moment. We are children and if we are not careful we get hurt. The wilderness teaches with immediacy. It’s lessons are the small events. The minor injury, the slip of the foot, the strained muscle, the burning shoulder. The useless thoughts in our heads. Immediately it shows us our mistakes and our follies. As nature guides us, it leads us in paths that go straight to the heart. There, at the end of a long day, exhausted and accomplished, we lay down in our cozy camp. In our hearts we know we have devoured mountains and chaparral.
No need for a fire tonight. No time. We’ll soon be asleep and, anyway, a fire will only block the sky. So, for a while, we lay there amazed at the galactic cloud and billion star field of our home galaxy.
Nature builds a nest in our heart every day. As we drift off to sleep all the lessons of the trail find their way home to that nest.
Next: “We Fall Back in Sage” Coming Soon
Excerpt from “Water through Fingers, Haiku on the High Sierra Trail”, photos, haiku, and philosophical essays by Robert Lewis.
