The Way Back: Healing Solitude

The next morning we were up with the sun and down back down the trial. We made coffee and snacked on breakfast food as we spread out our gear and packed for the trip. The tables at Bowler Campground made a great staging area ... and I was delighted that as we packed up things Aiden and Brody were more than willing to claim the heaviest of the food and group gear. On more than one occasion one or the other of them would chime in with a cheerful “I’ll take that ...” It was a welcome sound since I knew how steep the trail ahead was.

Once packed, we drove the 3 miles to the Norris Trailhead parking area and started our trek. The first half mile isn’t too bad as the trail wanders along Norris Creek, a beautiful stream, lined with a variety of wildflowers and pine trees. Soon, however the trail start its ascent in earnest and I was reminded how appreciative I was that the young studs were carrying the lion’s share of the equipment. Still, I had to stop more often than I remember ever having to stop before. I was gasping for air, my heart racing and my pride wounded at bringing up the rear. And yet, being forced to breath deep had some healing effect on my soul. Clean, clear, thin air has its medicinal properties - I am convinced of that. Each stop got a little shorter. Each trudge up the hill became a little longer. I was glad to be back in the mountains.

As difficult as it was, the trail was familiar It wasn’t long before we got to Norris Lake then a couple more grunts to lower Jackass. It is an amazing thing about the human body - you can be hating every step up the mountain, or every pedal up a steep hill, but once you get to the top, it is never as bad as you think in the moment of struggle. A few handfuls of trail mix and some water and I was feeling pretty good, at least physically.

The boys were busy exploring and checking out their new playground. Brody and Aiden went fishing and Sully was reading. So I wandered over to the ridge with a glass of wine and my issues. I saw a perfectly square rock that looked like a chair that invited me to sit for awhile, so I did. I was hoping to think my way past the things that had put me in my funk. But , I couldn’t think at all.

Then I remembered the cross.

It had been almost ten years since we placed it in a small grove of mountain hemlock trees overlooking Lower Jackass Lake. I found the spot off the beaten track, but with a clear view of the lake and the entire length of the Ansel Adams wilderness, stretching all the way across the San Joaquin River valley to the west side of Mammoth Mountain. It had been the occasion of Tim’s memorial when we spread his ashes and placed the cross as reminder of his passion for living and his “holy rage to live.”

I left my comfortable seat and wandered from the campsite at lower Jackass up the rugged draw where we had placed the simple wooden cross. I wondered if it would still be there ... up the granite slabs crisscrossing Norris Creek, which was running higher than I had ever seen it this late in the season. Following the steep ravine I began to wonder if I could even find the secluded spot. The entrance had grown over since my last visit. With so much water running off snow pack the mountain was alive with color. I finally recognized the entrance - sierra tiger lily and lupine marked the runway that led to the spot.

The cross was still there, resting peacefully at the base of the pine trees. Mystically, the afternoon sun was shining on the faded wood, illuminating its meaning - For the first time in months there was peace, not within me to be sure, but all around me. I would like to think I chose to stay with it for a while, but if Truth be told, the moment chose me. I stayed!

For a while, I sat just looking at the cross and remembering Tim. A wild man of sorts, far from perfect, but filled with passion. It was largely because of him I had learned of, and fallen in love with, this place. It was largely because of him I had begun keeping journals and focusing on the inner journey as much as the outer one. That was Tim, a confused mixture of philosopher - athlete - author, who loved the taste of, well, most everything.

As the sun faded from the cross and eventually from the sky my monkey mind wandered aimlessly from place to place. I began to think of the things that had saddened me, but the cooling of the evening air and the emergence of the night sky kept me from sitting in one place too long. As I moved from spot to spot, so did my mind from my golf swing to a writing project I was working on, thought upon thought slowing gradually the Silence and the Solitude began to work its magic.

Like a ceiling fan on high speed that spins violently even after you have turned off the power, so my mind spun even here, slowing ever so gradually over time until the Stillness began to fill me with wonder and the beauty began to fill me with peace. My mind and my soul got reacquainted as the Silence embraced me.

I don’t know how long I sat there. No longer distracted by my thoughts, time no longer had any meaning. Things I had overlooked when I was thinking of my issues began to emerge. There was a crack in a granite slab about two inches wide and ten feet long right next to where I had been sitting. Growing within that small fissure was a virtual garden of Eden - tiny wildflowers bursting with life, filling every possible inch in their celebration of living.

My gaze drifted skyward to the vastness of the universe: the Milky Way was out now in all of its expansive glory and Pegasus was just beginning to peak over the eastern horizon beginning his winged journey across the sky.

My mindlessness peacefully wandered through the vast cosmos and came to rest on a verse in Job ... “Can you bind the sweet influences of the Pleiades or loose the cords of Orion?” A subtle smile first crossed my mind and then seeped into my very being.

This thought from one of the oldest written books of wisdom continued to echo ... I remembered teaching the book of Job ... it is strange how you can forget the things you know when grief lays its suffocating hands over you. I remembered how JOB was so misunderstood by most of my students, especially those who had heard its meaning from others rather than experienced the meaning for themselves. Often portrayed as a book focused on God testing his faithful servant, Job ... the deeper, metaphorical meaning is missed entirely.

At the end of the book, instead of God extolling Job’s faithfulness and telling him “job well done,” God takes a chastising tone and (in my humble opinion) challenges Job to move beyond his selfish, myopic perspective and see the mystery of life for what it is: not just a mystery, but The Mystery.

For a time I had let my sadness shield me from what I knew to be True.

God’s admonishing questions to Job brought back the perspective that had alluded me these past months. “Can you bind the sweet influences of the Pleiades, or loose the cord of Orion.” “Where were you when I laid the Earth’s foundation, tell me ...?”

On that mountain, in the dark, I found illumination once again. Questions are not always meant to be answered. They are meant to be lived! ... even celebrated! When I am faced with the forever of the universe I am reminded of the forever in my soul. Just as there is an external eternity that poses eternal questions, so is there an internal one. Loss can hurt terribly but our choice is to celebrate the love that led to such a deep hurt. Lessons we can only embrace on the other side of mourning.

In the final analysis, Job’s reminder is that IT is not ultimately about us. That is a perspective that sets us free ...

“You have turned my mourning into dancing; You have removed my sackcloth and clothed me with Joy.” (Psalm 30:11)

Solitude is a strange and difficult place to visit. It doesn’t happen often and rarely by accident. This was one of the rare times it I did. I wandered back down the rugged mountain guided by starlight and with a peace that had eluded me for a long time. I was smiling in the darkness, because I finally had taken time to listen, the light from the Silence guided me home ... TV shows and wine have their time and place ... So does Solitude ...

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