The privacy, the warm sleeping bag, the skylight through which I saw stars at night- I was happy, happy to have my own little tent near the canyon of Annie Creek. Every time I even looked at the tent, boundaried by four young evergreens, I felt happy.
I hiked the vigorous and beautiful trail to the top of Mount Scott, the highest elevation in Crater Lake National Park. I reached the top and finally felt truly alone, something I'd been seeking. But for the first time, it felt like a great abyss- no connection with others, with God, with the great expanse around me. There I was up above everything around me, and at the lowest point of the trip. It hurt, and I prayed for relief even though there seemed to be nothing to pray to.
Five times within half an hour, while still on the summit, I was answered- the last time by a couple of hikers who arrived after me. I started the trek down not happy, but no longer in despair, and with a newfound awareness that I'm not truly a loner.
2 comments:
My SO seems to be aware of deep past emotions controlling a significant part of her present relations and it *is* hard.
I hope everyone can get far enough past them to have transcendent detachment, but I know it is unlikely.
this was a moment-writing it down creates an impression of something deep or permanent that in fact seemed a transitory experience, like low blood sugar that a nourishing meal might repair. Or it might reflect something more unyielding. But I just had a good bowl of gazpacho and so am leaning toward the former :)
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