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20 July ~2008

A week ago I backpacked to the edge of alpine with Ben and Maggie - not a long trip, since Maggie is still recovering from ACL surgery, but far enough off trail that we had the entire area to ourselves.

There were scattered groves of spruce mixed with ponds and meadows of grass nd sedge and paintbrush.  Down below was a creek, and beyond that a dense fir and spruce forest that still sheltered large snowbanks.

One of the things I love about setting up an off-trail camp like that is how incredibly quiet it is.  I was able to immerse myself in blessed silence and solitude, which I had been yearning for: time alone in the healing dominion of wilderness, in the company of my two lifelong friends.

I see learning how to live alone as a maturation of character, one which I feel fortunate to have progressed to.  I am not sure that true freedom is possible without it.  

I am able to give up what binds me to the lowlands now and again, and stand on a mountainside to witness the holliness of night falling from east to west.

It was a profound experience to get out of the tent at 4am and lie on that grassy slope and stare up at the thousands of stars, dissected by the chalky band of the Milky Way.   Sights like that bring to mind the permanence of the universe, and the transient nature of this life.  

Reminding oneself that death is closer than you might realize is a good thing, in my eyes.  It motivates you to not waste time, to spend what you have doing things you love.

I have given two nature programs since my timberline backpack trip.  On the Thursday walk a young boy spotted a hummingbird that seemed to be on a nest.  I looked closer and found a nest with two tiny eggs in a box elder branch, only about 5 feet off the ground.  As we watched the mother hummingbird came back and settled in on her nest.  All the children got to see her.

This was a special occurrence - only once before have I seen a hummingbird on her nest.

The children took the best photos, revealing their unique perspective of their nature walks with me and their teacher and parent helpers.

Every time I travel alone in wilderness, it induces me to go to plenty of dances when I get home, to have some human touch.  This week I have gone dancing Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights, and will get ready to go to the Mercury for the Sunday Swing dance in a few minutes.  

The best one was last night at the Grizzly Rose, around midnight when I asked a beautiful black-haired young woman who was sitting at a table of friends to dance.  She said ok, but warned me she wasnt very good.  As it turned out she was great.  At the end I held her close and dipped her over.  As I walked her back to her table she said that was so much fun, and that you must be very good because she didn't know how to do any of that.   That was quite a compliment, especially for one who takes pride in teaching ladies how to dance.

Friday Atomic Pablo played at the Turnverein.   That was unusual, since the Turn usually plays cd's for their friday dances.  I prefer dancing to a live band, because it adds another element of spontaneity to the dance, and Pablo is one of the best blues and swing bands in the area.

The timing and flow my partners and I had during a couple of the songs - Johnny B Good and Stray Cat Blues, was somethng neither of us will forget anytime soon.   It is pretty clear I am enjoying the benefits of swing and country dancing for so many years - in nuances and timing that make it a good experience for my partner.  Dancing is such a positive thing, as in the realm of good karma.

All of this - my wilderness treks, my nature programs, the dancing,  makes me feel like I am living a fine life.  Maybe the jury is still out, but it is starting to look like I have handled the turns and twists along the way as well as I could.

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