He had been walking back in Nisene Marks Forest for eleven years but only today finally hiked the trail to Maple Falls. It had always seemed too far and unreachable before. He had tried once by following the creek itself which meandered endlessly with steep cliffs on both sides, the trail high up on the left. But then he had recently run across an old acquaintance on the path leading towards Maple Falls. Alan had been his client thirty-five years ago when he was a financial consultant. He knew that he had known Alan in some capacity but couldn't quite remember until Alan dreamed of how they had known each other. As he walked in the far forest, he saw an old man like himself ahead of him on the path; he was holding on to a branch to support himself and seemed to be out of breath or in pain or both. As he passed the old man, he asked, "How we doin?" The man instantly started telling jokes, and said, "You walk on ahead." He hadn't recognized the man as yet but felt concerned about him as he seemed to strain for breath. The man again said,
"You walk on. I'm ok. I just have to stop every so often. You go ahead." He reluctantly did move on ahead, but after a few steps, the man yelled to him another joke, and then another joke. He realized that he should and actually wanted to walk with the man, however briefly. After a few minutes of banter, they reached the bench at the Porter House location and sat down. He then realized that he knew this guy from a long time ago. When he said his name, he recognized the name. Alan told him that he had been a chiropractor and homeopath for forty-four years and still was. He told Alan of his own chronic agonizing pain in his back and neck and Alan told him that he could help with that. Just being in that moment with his old friend seemed to have substantially reduced his own level of pain. They parted.
He realized that Alan was heading up that very steep hill that led to Maple Falls, and thought, "If Alan has the guts to do that, I do too." It was Alan that inspired him to do it. The next week he attempted the long hike but found himself too exhausted before he got there and had to turn around and come back. But today, knowing and feeling comfortable with most of the path, he had made it. It had been most difficult for him particularly because his knees are weak and stiff, and the path went up and down steep, slippery cliffs and over ten-foot round redwoods.
Upon arriving he was warmly greeted by a young woman who was twenty-two and a recent graduate of the University of Florida. They sat on a log and talked about many things. She reminded him of his daughter, though he was old enough to be her great-grandfather. There was a resonance, an easyness in their communication. That he could interact with her, this young woman, in such a connected way gave him much joy and also much pleasure that people like this still exist in the world and have a whole life ahead of them. He felt happy for her and glad that she was in the world. But he also found himself almost embarrassed about what he said, what he talked about, and that he may not have said things as he wanted to say them. He was well able to "engage" and "converse," but he was also aware that he had "run out of words," which is to say run out of any creative thought within the last year or so, in spite of his ability to blither and blather. His whole purpose in life was to somehow get at what it is and also to convey to others that he was interested in them, their thoughts, their feelings, their lives. In fact to him a few other with whom he "resonated," were more interesting to him than himself. After all, he had lived with himself for a long time. And there were things that he hadn't said that would reveal an entrance to them into his own being. He had discovered that what was most important was to be able to share in being, in life, on a level most people were unwilling to go for fear of the unknown, of their own unknown, and of the pain this brings. It is always the cracking of the shell. People "show interest," which is not the same as "being interested." To share the beingness that is common to us, yet absolutely individual and unique to each of us, was and is his purpose, his nature.
And after she left, he stripped down not completely and walked under the icy waterfall for perhaps two minutes, letting out a gasp and a sound from the center. He wondered why he hadn't invited her to go under the falls and had said that he was "too old" for it. In retrospect it would have been too forward, too intimate, though it would have been great fun. As he was standing under the falls, three more people arrived: two young women and a young man. Seeing his example, even as another person had inspired him to finally do it, they got under the falls for the most part; more for the selfie than the exhilarating experience it seemed to him. He asked the guy where he had come from to be there: "Israel," he said. And then as he (the narrator) sat on the ground, having put on his socks and shoes, he realized he didn't have the strength to get up. Having been asked by the Israelis to take some photos of them and having done so, he asked the young man if he would be willing to help him up, which he did, which proved somewhat difficult since he was 225 lbs. and the man helping him probably weighed in at maybe 110.
He is aware that, on one hand, he avoids "social convention" since it is so superficial, and is thus drawn to his practice of walking solitary in the forest, especially to his high redwood "perch" in a remote area where he sit and writes in his journal, surrounded in stillness and silence except for the breeze that moves the trees. But on the other hand, he greets other people heartfully that he sees on the trail, who approach and pass not even a foot away. He talks with people inimately as best he can when the opportunity arises. Such intimach is not in the topic or the words themselves but in how they are spoken and from where they arise within him. Sometimes this is matched, sometimes not. But one's greatest enjoyment in life is to be who one is and to share oneself and receive others.
"You walk on. I'm ok. I just have to stop every so often. You go ahead." He reluctantly did move on ahead, but after a few steps, the man yelled to him another joke, and then another joke. He realized that he should and actually wanted to walk with the man, however briefly. After a few minutes of banter, they reached the bench at the Porter House location and sat down. He then realized that he knew this guy from a long time ago. When he said his name, he recognized the name. Alan told him that he had been a chiropractor and homeopath for forty-four years and still was. He told Alan of his own chronic agonizing pain in his back and neck and Alan told him that he could help with that. Just being in that moment with his old friend seemed to have substantially reduced his own level of pain. They parted.
He realized that Alan was heading up that very steep hill that led to Maple Falls, and thought, "If Alan has the guts to do that, I do too." It was Alan that inspired him to do it. The next week he attempted the long hike but found himself too exhausted before he got there and had to turn around and come back. But today, knowing and feeling comfortable with most of the path, he had made it. It had been most difficult for him particularly because his knees are weak and stiff, and the path went up and down steep, slippery cliffs and over ten-foot round redwoods.
Upon arriving he was warmly greeted by a young woman who was twenty-two and a recent graduate of the University of Florida. They sat on a log and talked about many things. She reminded him of his daughter, though he was old enough to be her great-grandfather. There was a resonance, an easyness in their communication. That he could interact with her, this young woman, in such a connected way gave him much joy and also much pleasure that people like this still exist in the world and have a whole life ahead of them. He felt happy for her and glad that she was in the world. But he also found himself almost embarrassed about what he said, what he talked about, and that he may not have said things as he wanted to say them. He was well able to "engage" and "converse," but he was also aware that he had "run out of words," which is to say run out of any creative thought within the last year or so, in spite of his ability to blither and blather. His whole purpose in life was to somehow get at what it is and also to convey to others that he was interested in them, their thoughts, their feelings, their lives. In fact to him a few other with whom he "resonated," were more interesting to him than himself. After all, he had lived with himself for a long time. And there were things that he hadn't said that would reveal an entrance to them into his own being. He had discovered that what was most important was to be able to share in being, in life, on a level most people were unwilling to go for fear of the unknown, of their own unknown, and of the pain this brings. It is always the cracking of the shell. People "show interest," which is not the same as "being interested." To share the beingness that is common to us, yet absolutely individual and unique to each of us, was and is his purpose, his nature.
And after she left, he stripped down not completely and walked under the icy waterfall for perhaps two minutes, letting out a gasp and a sound from the center. He wondered why he hadn't invited her to go under the falls and had said that he was "too old" for it. In retrospect it would have been too forward, too intimate, though it would have been great fun. As he was standing under the falls, three more people arrived: two young women and a young man. Seeing his example, even as another person had inspired him to finally do it, they got under the falls for the most part; more for the selfie than the exhilarating experience it seemed to him. He asked the guy where he had come from to be there: "Israel," he said. And then as he (the narrator) sat on the ground, having put on his socks and shoes, he realized he didn't have the strength to get up. Having been asked by the Israelis to take some photos of them and having done so, he asked the young man if he would be willing to help him up, which he did, which proved somewhat difficult since he was 225 lbs. and the man helping him probably weighed in at maybe 110.
He is aware that, on one hand, he avoids "social convention" since it is so superficial, and is thus drawn to his practice of walking solitary in the forest, especially to his high redwood "perch" in a remote area where he sit and writes in his journal, surrounded in stillness and silence except for the breeze that moves the trees. But on the other hand, he greets other people heartfully that he sees on the trail, who approach and pass not even a foot away. He talks with people inimately as best he can when the opportunity arises. Such intimach is not in the topic or the words themselves but in how they are spoken and from where they arise within him. Sometimes this is matched, sometimes not. But one's greatest enjoyment in life is to be who one is and to share oneself and receive others.
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