My head was almost pounding. I wasn’t ill, and didn’t have a headache. Rather, although I had thought myself calm and relaxed and peaceful that Sunday morning, when I hit the trail, the quiet around me starkly revealed the racing, swirling thoughts in my head, not a bit peaceful upon closer examination. I sighed.
I waited for the rain to stop. The weather report had given the all clear, but the clouds had different ideas on the drive up. The shower was passing, though, so with a bit of dragging my feet while preparing my pack—despite an anxious husky ready to get going!—the trip up Snowy Mountain thus began in sunshine.
The sound of the wind through the trees mingled with the sound of water dripping from the leaves. Have you noticed how similar these sounds can be? The leaves through the trees, a brook tumbling over rocks, a gentle rain hitting—at first, quietly building, they all sound identical. Incidentally, so does the sound of an approaching car at first, still in the distance. Vibration, frequency. All that is, us too. Vibration and frequency.
As I walked across dual 8 x 8s nailed to cross pieces at the ends to serve as bridges over particularly wet spots (the trail crosses streams three times as well), my feet rang them like wood blocks, a musical surprise counter to the expected dull thudding trod. “My friend Marcus would love this,” I thought. He’s a sound healer, a spiritual musician, and merging wilderness healing and music would appeal to him, I’m sure.
My head was almost pounding. I wasn’t ill, and didn’t have a headache. Rather, although I had thought myself calm and relaxed and peaceful that Sunday morning, when I hit the trail, the quiet around me starkly revealed the racing, swirling thoughts in my head, not a bit peaceful upon closer examination. I sighed. I need to do things like this more often, take on fewer work commitments, I thought. At least spend more time meditating, not letting my head get so full.
The ancient Chinese believed the Earth made a fundamental sound, called the Kung, and ancient emperors had officials travel among the villages to ensure musical instruments were properly attuned to it—a low F, for you musicians. The concern was that city life drowned out the sound of the Kung, leaving residents out of harmony with the earth. The Kung was ringing my bells now, for sure. Frequency and vibration. I had lost connection.
The rainy start offered a rare treat from the summit—a gorgeous rainbow stretching across the mountains. It also offered a cold, windy experience in the fire tower. But a sunny meadow just a bit down from the top offered a delightful place to sit, have a bit to eat, and relax. Really relax. My husky, who doesn’t have the same relaxation challenges, took a Milk-bone, stretched out in the grass, and after a few more, rolled on her side for a nap. A chipmunk, emboldened by the sleeping pooch, scouted the area for crumbs, checking out my trail mix. More alert than relaxed. Probably wise for a chipmunk too near a husky.
The trip down was quiet, calm, expansive, peaceful, large—wilderness stretching unchecked (as far as I could see from my vantage point) in all directions. Time to get back to the car, listening for those distant tire sounds—or was that the wind?—letting me know we were close to the trail’s end.
Returning home, something of the mountains seems to come back to the hills. They seem connected, rather than different regions. The wilderness is there, here, accessible if we could learn to see it—or hear it, or feel it. Vibration, frequency, Kung.
Are you interested in hearing more about Wilderness Hikes as projects evolve in the future? Let me know here, so I have a list of those interested ready to go, by clicking here (and page all the way down to click “Sign Up” at the bottom):
Join the “Wilderness Hike” list.
If you’d like to hear about my “Getting Unstuck” book as it gets closer to release, let me know by clicking here (and you’re welcome to do *both,* of course–page all the way down to click “Sign Up” at the bottom):
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October 2012 is a series of daily posts about “A Wilderness Hike,” taking readers through the healing of wilderness experience and glimpses of my work at Kwan Yin Healing and of my book, “Getting Unstuck.”
You can read the series from the start via the links here:
Oct. 1: A Wilderness Hike
Oct. 2: The Sixth Hour
Oct. 3: Snowy Mountain
Oct. 4: Letting Go of Baggage–the Wilderness Way
Oct. 5: “Bear” the Thought
Oct. 6: Mountain. Buddha. Impermanence.
Oct. 7: The Rewards of Rain
Oct. 8: Finding the Keys
Oct. 9: “I’d love to, but times are bad.”
Oct. 10: Attracting the Law of Attraction
Oct. 11: We are not our thoughts
Oct. 12: Honesty, Forgiveness, Healing
Oct. 13: Getting Unstuck: Feeling Overwhelmed
Oct. 14: Money is remarkably easy to come by, if that’s all you want.
Oct. 15: To be Time Rich, Learn to Be
Oct. 16: Changing Thoughts for Changing Work
Oct. 17: Finding and Sharing your Gifts
Oct. 18: Do you want to be the boss? Be sure you want to run the show.
Oct. 19: Finding jobs within jobs
Oct. 20: Bright Mountain Dream
Oct. 21: Escape the Wilderness of Addictions
Oct. 22: The Importance of Spiritual Direction
Oct. 23: In Search of Enlightenment
Oct. 24: Relationship Thoughts from the Wilderness
Oct. 25: We learn in realtionships
Oct. 26: Chrysalis
Oct. 27: Self-Healing, part 1
Oct. 28: Self-Healing, part 2: Time for a new perspective
Oct. 29: Dix Mountain
Oct. 30: The Mist-Filled Path
Oct. 31: From Wilderness to Wondrousness