Came bouldering today at Cathedral Boulders. It’s freezing cold and small hail has been falling off an on all morning. I’m out here alone but the forest feels so comfortable, so much so, that I don’t feel alone at all. A loud, thunderous, crashing sound is echoing through the trees – ice falls somewhere above. And as I turn around, scanning the skyline my eyes are met with a peak at Higher and Lower Cathedral Spires. It is a beautiful day here in the boulders with a thermos of hot tea. I would be happier in no other place than here today.

Warm bowl

of  rice, eggs, onions and spinach.

Green and yellow and brown.

A bowl consisting of plants and embryos –

cells that are more beautiful

than words can recall.

This bowl of warmth

so good on this

winter morning.

What is it that rides on the late fall wind,

that brings feelings of fireworks

subdued by the mist of the early morning air?

It is something that stirs the soul deep within

covering the back,

embracing the shoulders like a blanket warmed from fire.

It is something that at once seems electrifying and serene,

vibrant and dull.

Is it the coming of winter

with it’s quiet slumber under a chill filled sky?

No, no it is much more than that

which rides on the back of the November wind.

It is the magic of life

that sparks with the stars

and ripples down the river;

it is the crest of a wave

and the crash on the shore

beating patterns in the sand.

Again and again.

This wind carries with it

the pulse of existence

that circles the earth

and twirls through the universe

and resides here

in our hearts.