Posted by Partlycloudy on October 28, 2008, at 17:28:38
We hiked, we three, up from the Lower to the Upper Mariposa Grove in Yosemite. My legs are a third the length of either of yours; my feet two thirds the length of yours. I am the Low Man, close to the earth; you (two) are the Tall Men, straining to release the bonds of gravity.
We hiked - I trudged; you two seemed to leap and plunge into the the trail. It was all I could do to keep my stubby little legs plugging along after you. Always at the end, I did not declare my failure, nor say that the hike was beyond my endurance. My short, stubby legs instead became the engine of Of Course I Can in my plodding trail up the 2,000 ft elevation.
Not very far into the hike, the problem with the Mariposa Grove became obvious - we were surrounded by charred ruins of trees, instead of lively, green giants. I saw a signpost on the trail, not far in to our walk, which declared the forest we were in to be "unhealthy". The very quality that gave the Giant Redwood forest their stature had been unrecognized until 1971 - sunlight. It wasn't until then that the role that fire, the natural, destructive, rejuvinative force in these forests. had been recognized as the generative agent in producing the giant redwoods, which required an enormous amount of sunlight, to thrive.
My fellow hikers were way beyond me, bounding up the hillside in pursuit of the top of this particular mountain. I was relatively trapped by my physicality - my shorter legs, my shorter feet, even; forced by my circumstances to take a closer look at the forest that was only now being cleared by planned fires and destruction, in order to make the environment healthier for the giants who rightfully claimed this small space as their home.
My circumstances forced me to look at the smoldering ashes of the remnants of the trees around me. And it forced me to realize that this destruction was responsible for greater growth. You couldn't grow a giant without a lot of fire.
I am presently in the midst of my own personal forest fire. It happened a long time ago - 35 years this summer. But I only was able to remember it in full recently; when I was in a supportive environment (nurturing, spiritual) to bear the full brunt of the impact of what had happened to me so long ago.
Out of this fire, a growth will follow. I can't fully believe the words that I type here. But I've been seeing it in the world that I live in - in that forest - like the Phoenix who rises from its own ashes. I know that I walked through that very forest this past week for a specific reason - and I understand that reason oh, so clearly. The universe speaks to me. I try to listen to it.
pc
poster:Partlycloudy
thread:859638
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/write/20080605/msgs/859638.html