Magic Mushroom Land

Canyonlands is amazing. Lots of the rocks here look like mushrooms, and I have my very own giant mushroom where two junipers watch over my tent, standing at the foot and head, like the angels on the ark of the covenant. My mushroom also has a crevice, so it's like my own mini-cave, where I'm sitting in my camping chair enjoying an ice cold kombucha. Everything I've been opening has been exploded; I guess because of changes in altitude. The algae, or whatever that yucky stuff is at the bottom of the bottle, launched when I opened it, and sprayed all over - gross. In addition to drinking kombucha when coming off the trail, I woke up at 6am this morning to get an early start on the 11-mile trail I hiked. No worries - the aliens have promised to return the real Lindsay when alien Lindsay drives back through New Mexico. I'm glad I let the camp ranger talk me into it, as I had never hiked that far before. The rocks in this part of the park that don't look like mushrooms are called "needles." They are towering spires that occurred because limestone moved over salt, cracking the solid rock, then rain came, eroding them. They are magnificent - mostly red, but also lined with white and yellow. Part of the trail was called the Joint Trail because you walk through where a really big rock split. The sky was just a thin line seen straight up through the break in black rock. I got to on point that was probably the most silent place I had ever been. If I held my breath, I couldn't hear anything at all... never get that in the city. From there, I turned down a tunnel that displayed a whole metropolis of cairns - the small stacks of flat rocks that mark the trails here. It went on and on, with little rock towers everywhere, even in the tiniest crevices in the side of the rock. Everybody who passes through there probably contributes a rock or two. I loved the spontaneous, communal nature of it. During the morning, clouds covered the sky, and there was a constant cool breeze. There was a moment when a few rain drops hit my arms, and I became acutely in tune with all of my senses, and all of it was pleasing - the feeling and rhythm of walking, the breeze on my face, through my hair, and across my body; the grass brushing across my hand, the sound of the wind... I'm not so sure I'm made for city-life. I'm not so sure anybody is, but I can only speak for myself. A woman told me a couple of days ago that my presence had a "quiet reverence" to it. I guess that's what happens when you start listening. All of nature sings a song of praise, and that same song is embedded within each of us. The silence and the song are bound, one with the other. So, friends, one day you may not see me anymore. I may just move to the desert, and if you find me, you will find me chatting with the lizards, singing to the jackrabbits, and basking in the silence of which I do not tire. Peace, friends.

The Lord your God is with you. He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you. He will quiet you with his love. He will rejoice over you with singing. ~Zephaniah 3:17