The Tao of River and Mountain

"Enlightenment is not a matter of imagining figures of light, but of making the darkness conscious." -- C. G. Jung

Tao is a Chinese term that represents the basic concept of Taoism. Hilary J. Barrett in her article "The I Ching and the Tao" writes, "The Tao is the way. To move with it is to be in harmony with the nature of the time, fitting with it as smoothly as flowing water. " Hence, today's title suggests the way of river and mountain.

The largest impact of this wonderful, spiritually renewing journey to Idaho, Wyoming, and Montana was through my experiences on the rivers and in the mountains. The mountains invite stillness through their solid immobility, yet are alive through eons of sculpturing. The rivers, often originating in these mountains, serve a constant reminder that water flows through the channels of least resistance.

On Sunday, July 17th I drove to Somers, Montana on the northeast corner of Flathead Lake to visit Katy Meyers and her husband Terry. Katy and I have known each other since we were second graders in Shippensburg. When we parted ways after graduating from high school, we kept in touch by letters and Christmas cards, and eventually just at Christmas. With the advent of e-mail, Katy and I renewed our correspondence, but had not visited in about 34 years.

When I arrived, Katy was working in her garden and the connection was reignited instantaneously. We had a marvelous visit reminiscing, catching up on 34 years, and enjoying each other's personas molded by our experiences over these many years. The soul connection actually runs more deeply now than it did when we were teenagers.

Katy and Terry generously gave two days of their time to take me to Glacier National Park and on a raft trip. On Monday we spent the day driving the "Going-to-the-Sun" highway in Glacier National Park. At the summit we sat by a tiny stream and enjoyed a delicious organic lunch Katy had prepared. The waterfalls, lakes, and wildlife of Glacier were spectacular.

On Tuesday we spent the day rafting the North Fork of the Flathead River. The trip was guided by Steve, a passionate environmentalist with a head full of dreadlocks. This river was much calmer than the Snake in Wyoming. We drifted slowly and paddled through some tame white water. We stopped several times to relax on small rocky islands. Both Terry and I fished, relatively unsuccessfully, but the rhythm of casting to the foam lines and riffles was the ultimate in zen. Eagles honored us with their presence. Imagine three of these magnificent birds circling overhead in the depths of wilderness on a river of green.

And so my final two days were spent in the mountains and on the river. If your soul is open, you "will" hear, see, and understand the tao of river and mountain. It is my wish for you, the reader, that you may someday enjoy a rebirth similar to what I have experienced on my journey westward this summer.

I promise to continue blogging whenever the spirit moves me. Likewise, please continue to share your own experiences, thoughts, and insights. For those of you who immersed yourselves in my daily entries and traveled with me in spirit, I thank you for your friendship and presence.

Namaste!

Big Sky and Tumbleweed

This morning I opted not to return to Yellowstone and headed north on Route 89 from Gardiner towards Livingston. The scenery began to change dramatically, and the beautiful Yellowstone River ran parallel to the road for a long distance where part of its flow channeled through a canyon.

In Livingston, I stopped for some fruit, snacks, film, and gas before picking up Route 90 west towards Bozeman, Butte, and Missoula. The terrain changed from brown rolling hills and mountains to peaks covered in lodgepole pines, and eventually the Rocky Mountains in the distance.

The drive was easy, and I never tired of the passing scenery. Montana is just as beautiful as Wyoming and Idaho. Visually, I could see why Montana is called "big sky" country, but I don't understand why the sky here looks so much larger and more overpowering. It just seems to wrap itself around the horizon, embracing everything in its orbit.

As I proceeded on Route 90 west, a lone tumbleweed suddenly blew across the road in front of me and other oncoming cars -- it rolled and bounced its way to the grassy medial strip. It made me giggle because I immediately saw an analogy between that tumbleweed and the attitude of taking risks and having fun. Tumble where ye may!

About 40 miles south of Missoula, I stopped briefly at a rest area. As soon as I parked, I saw a large bird with a white tail soaring overhead. As it came closer, I could see its white head and knew it was a mature male bald eagle. Suddenly I saw a second eagle, and the two of them flew in close proximity, twice attacking each other and tumbling in the sky like planes doing aerobatics. I'm assuming it was a territory issue, and they eventually disappeared over the mountain.

I'm settled into my room here at Mountain Valley Inn in Missoula and will be driving the last leg of my journey tomorrow to Somers, Montana to visit an old friend from Shippensburg I haven't seen in about 34 years. I'll be staying with Katy and her husband until Wednesday morning when I depart for home from the airport at Kalispell.
Keep in touch! Love to all --

The "Tail" of Lemon

Lemon is a bright yellow crocheted mouse who has been traveling across Idaho, Wyoming, and Montana with me. He is in the midst of a custody battle between me and my friend Loretta who lives in Kentucky.

But maybe I should start from the beginning. . .

Two years ago Loretta came to Pennsylvania for a visit. When we pulled open the sofa bed for her first night's stay at our home, to our dismay there was a dead mouse which had been decomposing under the sofa. Most likely one of our cats had caught and injured it seriously enough so that it crawled under the sofa and died. Loretta hates mice, so all that night she had nightmares; she also swore that she could smell the decay regardless of my efforts to disinfect and deodorize the area.

When I flew to Kentucky to visit Loretta later that year, this little yellow mouse was hiding in my bed! When I arrived home, I found the mouse tucked away in a deep corner of my suitcase. Ever since then, Lemon has been traveling back and forth between Pennsylvania and Kentucky -- sometimes by car, sometimes by plane, sometimes by UPS, and sometimes by good old fashioned US Mail. He spends part of his time with Loretta, and part of his time with me, although recently he has been living in Pennsylvania more than Kentucky.

In June he arrived back in Pennsylvania after spending several months in Kentucky. He came by car when Loretta drove up for a visit. The morning she was to leave for home, I secretly tucked Lemon into one of her bags. Two days later, Lemon surfaced in my pocketbook where he had been hiding since Loretta's departure.

Because he was quite indignant about being left behind, I managed to placate him by promising to bring him along on my trip west. He flew Northwest Airlines in the safe confines of my riding helmet with his buddy Pumpkin Two, a little orange stuffed cat who lives with me full time. Since arriving in Jackson Hole, Lemon has gone driftboat fishing, trail riding, and in the Targhee Resort chair lift 10,000 feet to the summit of Fred's Mountain. He has toured Yellowstone and traveled into Montana in the confines of my Vera Bradley backpack. The hotel managements have allowed Lemon to stay regardless of their "no pets" policy.

Tomorrow Lemon and Pumpkin Two head to Somers, Montana to meet my old friend Katy and her husband Terry.

So continue the adventures of Lemon. . . . . .

I think he may be inspiration for a children's book!

Yellowstone Burn

July 15, 2005
When I decided to come through the south entrance to Yellowstone, I was not aware that I would pass through Grand Teton National Park first. The Tetons and surrounding park lands are just magnificent -- lush and green.

Yellowstone, while unique and beautiful, did not inspire or move me as much as the Tetons. In my limited time, I was able to visit Lewis Canyon and Falls, the West Thumb Geyser Basin, Yellowstone Lake, Old Faithful, Midway Geyser Basin and Firehole River, Firehole Canyon and Falls, and the Gibbon River.

I also stopped to see Artists Paintpots, but the hike was a little too far, so I turned back. I am sorry now that I didn't go the whole way because this area is noted for having several examples of thermal features such as small geysers, mudpots, and steam vents. This spot is the best place to see excellent close-up views of mudpots.

I did not find Old Faithful to be that spectacular. I sat in the sun for 70 minutes waiting for the next eruption, having missed the prior eruption by about 20 minutes. The interval between eruptions is about 92 minutes, and the duration is anywhere from 1 1/2 to 5 minutes.

I especially enjoyed the West Thumb Geyser Basin. This is the largest geyser basin on the shores of Yellowstone Lake. The magma chamber that heats Yellowstone's thermal features is close to the surface here -- less than 2 miles under the earth's surface. The same thermal features are also found in Yellowstone Lake and can be seen from the shore. It is amazing how intense the heat is when standing near the springs and vents.

Midway Geyser Basin contains two very beautiful and colorful prismatic springs -- the Excelsior and the Grand Prismatic Spring. The water from these hot springs empty into the Firehole River in a cloud of steam.

One of the most remarkable things I noticed was the enormous amount of burn acreage. At one of the check points, an information board explained that even though forest fires are devastating, they actually play an important role in returning nutrients to the soil. Some plant communities depend on fire to remove overgrowth and encourage new growth. It was easy to tell which burn areas were recent and which were not. Over 1.4 million acres burned in 1988.

Because I am traveling alone, I tend to reflect. As I observed mile after mile of visible reminders of burn, it made me think about endings and new beginnings -- not only in nature, but in our lives as well.

I am now at Yellowstone Basin Inn about 5 miles north of Gardiner, Montana. The geology of the area is much different than in Driggs and Jackson Hole. The territory there was green; here it is brown.

Tomorrow I hoped to back track to Canyon Village to see the Lower Falls in the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone River, but I don't think I will have enough time before I head northwest to Missoula.

Having just reread this entry, I think I sound like a teacher!
Oh well --

Sagebrush, Timberline, and the quality of touch

Today was a day of leisure to rest and prepare for my journey onward to Yellowstone. I enjoyed a massage at the Grand Targhee Spa. My massage therapist was a girl named Joanna whose technique and variety of strokes were excellent. However, as I find with so many body-workers, the quality of touch was lacking. To me, as a trained massage therapist, massage does not just address the physical body; it is critical that the therapist be attuned to the spiritual and emotional aspects connected to the body. A bodyworker must be centered and grounded. It is the rare individual who is able to "touch" the spirit, the soul, and the physical body equally.

During my drives up the mountain and through the Teton Pass as well as on my trail ride, I became aware of varied types of timberlines. At 10,000 feet, not many plants or trees are able to survive. At the higher altitudes I noticed that most trees seem to be of the evergreen family. When I searched for Indian Paintbrush to pick and dry press, I noticed that it did not seem to be as evident at the lower altitudes. On our trail ride, there was a defined timberline where the aspens stopped growing. Aspens exist at lower altitudes, as does sagebrush.

Sagebrush grows abundantly here in the west on the plateaus in the valleys and lower altitudes of the mountains and passes. I stopped in Targhee National Forest on my way to the spa to pick some sagebrush for smudge bundles. It is popular as a smudge herb. For those of you who may not be familiar with smudge, Native American shamans would light tightly bundled dried herbs and use the ensuing smoke in spiritual ceremonies and also to cleanse negative energy from physical areas like a room as well as from auras. Sage is one of the more commonly used herbs for this purpose.

Do you think, as humans, we have our own timberlines? -- the timberline being the point in our lives when we cease being puppets manipulated by our warped society and begin to define who and what we are. When we cross that timberline, we acquire a sense of wholeness which affects our perceptions of people and situations around us.

My experiences here in the beautiful Tetons have touched me profoundly. Tomorrow morning I will leave Intermountain Lodge and Driggs, Idaho, to cross the Teton Pass into Jackson Hole and then north into Yellowstone.

Namaste!

River

I've known rivers: Ancient, dusky rivers. My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
Langston Hughes

I thank author Peter Lourie for this powerful quote. When he visited my school, Hillcrest Elementary, in April, he shared adventures and lessons learned as he explored many rivers.

Today, traveling almost eight hours and eleven miles on the Snake River in Wyoming, I began to understand how one can form an affinity for a river. The character of the Snake was vastly different than the South Fork of the Snake in Idaho. I almost formed a love-hate relationship with the water. The beauty was spectacular -- fast water, wild, varied shades of green and a sandy beige found along the banks and shoals. However, the current was wicked, playing havoc with my casts and fly. At times the river was gentle, allowing me to be more successful in my presentation and in length of drift. Then sudden reversals forced me to be more aggressive in my attempts to place my fly in the feeding channels.

The Snake was not about to yield any sizeable trout. The fast water made it extremely challenging to see my fly and recognize strikes. All the trout I caught today were small cutthroat. I did catch one white fish about 16 inches long fishing a great riffle this morning, but that was as generous as the river was going to be today.

I admired and appreciated Leslie's adept handling of the drift boat as she navigated the water. Not only is Leslie a "reel" woman, she is also a good teacher. Leslie's patience extended to replacing broken leaders, tippets, and lost flies as well as helping me wade in rocky areas. I am grateful to her for making this experience such an exciting and rewarding one.

As I sit here reflecting upon the day, my semi-circular canals are telling me that I am still on the river. It's a sense of perpetual motion -- gentle swaying from side to side and up and down while moving forward. The only way to maintain your balance is to "go with the flow."

It's nearly 9:30 here in Driggs. Tomorrow will be a rest day and an opportunity to do some wash, start packing, and think about heading to Yellowstone on Friday. Thanks to all of you who have posted your comments. I love your reactions and responses to what I have shared. Keep writing. Hugs and kisses to all.

Dingle, Indian Paintbrush, and a lesson in straightness

This morning I met Deb and Patty at Teton Valley Ranch for my half day trail ride. I walked into the barn wearing my black riding breeches adorned with red horses. I told the gals that I had come dressed to spice up the west. My mount for the morning was a sorrel mare named Dingle. She was a new horse to the ranch and was still in her evaluation stage as a trustworthy trail mount.

As we started down the trail on the 4000 acre ranch which abutted the Teton National Forest, Dingle was bowed to the left. Therefore, I was dropping off to the right and extremely uncomfortable in the saddle. I started to "talk" to her to see if I could straighten her so the saddle would be centered on her back and she would be balancing my weight. I applied my right leg to her flank and gave little requests with the right rein to eliminate the bow through her neck and body. At first she was confused, but because I did not demand and asked tactfully, she eventually decided that she could comply with my requests. Mares are noted for being smart, and Dingle was no exception. She quickly figured out what I wanted, and once I established her straightness and balance, she maintained it through most of the ride with only occasional reminders.

We rode for about 3 hours plus a 20 minute rest stop by a beautiful creek. The meadows and ridges were a palette of color provided by a wide variety of wildflowers. Deb and Patty both carried wildflower identification books and were enraptured by the display of bloom. I asked what the red flower was that reminded me of our Monarda, or Bee Balm. It was Indian Paintbrush. Indeed, the rim of the leaves just below the bloom appeared to be brushed in crimson.

There is zen in everything we do; we have to learn to be mindful. Not only did the ride through the ranch territory and Teton National Park invite the opportunity to be "in the moment," Dingle's lesson in straightness can easily be applied to our own lives. In horses, straightness demands that the horse load each leg equally so that the energy created by the hindquarters can move forward through the horse's body with ease. Not only does this keep horses sound in limb, it also assists their balance and lessens fatigue. A balanced horse is a happy horse because it is free to move in harmony.

Likewise, we, as humans, are constantly challenged to maintain straightness -- keeping a sense of correct priorities, and balance in our internal as well as external environments.

Because the weather was so glorious, I decided to spend the afternoon taking the chair lift at the Grand Targhee Resort which ascends 10,000 feet to the top of Fred's Mountain. At the summit, I was able to view the Teton Range as well as Wyoming, Montana, and Idaho.

I'm relaxing in my room now. Tomorrow I will meet Leslie in Jackson Hole for my second and last day of fly fishing on the Snake River in Wyoming. I enjoy your comments and news from home -- keep them coming! Love to all.

Cutthroat and Zen

I don't know where to begin; this day will be one of the most memorable days of my life.

This morning I met my guide Leslie Dal Lago at the Three Rivers Fly Shop. Leslie selected some flies for the day's fishing, and then we stopped for my Idaho fishing license and lunch before heading to the South Fork of the Snake River in Idaho. Leslie and I started to talk like old buddies, discovering commonalities as well as diversities.

The weather was exquisitely perfect -- clear blue sky, no humidity, indescribable. Leslie set the drift boat into the river and spent a few minutes giving me pointers on fishing wet, not one of my better fishing skills. For those of you not versed in fly fishing terms, wet refers to fishing under the surface. Dry is fishing on the surface of the water. Much of the time I was fishing two lures tied to the tippet. I didn't have to do anything. Leslie tied on all the flies and replaced leaders ripped off by stones and branches.

The Snake River is clear and cold and gorgeous -- the water temperature was around 52 degrees. The water flows fast, and Leslie was expert at handling the drift boat. We started the morning fishing nymphs, and I caught two white fish. Leslie explained that white fish were a predictor of stream health -- where there are white fish, there are trout. The trout in these waters are native and wild. We varied the fishing -- at times I fished as the boat drifted, and other times I fished one spot, both from the boat and wading.

Eventually I hooked my first trout, a cutthroat, easily identified by the red slash on the trout's throat. All trout I hooked were cutthroat; the last two were both about 17 inches -- beautiful fish! I have pictures!

We ate lunch in the boat under the shade of a big tree -- feeding ourselves and hoping to finish our feeding before the trout started to feed on the surface. There was a stonefly hatch on, and the trout started to feed actively on the surface from about 1 until 4pm. I missed many strikes, and hooked two that escaped before we were able to net them. In all, I caught six; four were cutthroat.

Along with the fantastic fishing, I was also privileged to see my first bald eagle -- not one but three! What magnificent birds -- just awe inspiring. I also saw ospreys, a peregrine falcon, a mother merganser duck with her babies, magpies, ravens, and fresh water pelicans.

There is so much more about the day which is intangible and cannot be described -- at times Leslie and I were seemingly the only people on a wildly beautiful river, surrounded by an unblemished environment. It restored my soul and just replenished the sense of balance we tend to lose living in this frenzied, senseless world.

When we returned to Driggs, I went to the grocery store and bought food so that I could eat in my room instead of going out to a restaurant. I even bought a bottle of Chardonnay! I have a microwave oven and a small refrigerator in my room, so I stocked up for my stay here in Driggs.

As I got out of my car back at the lodge, right at my feet was a black and white magpie feather for me! It is now 9:15, and I am waiting for it to get dark. I plan to go out and see if it is dark-sky country -- if it is, I should be able to see the Milky Way, which is not visible to those of us who live in light-polluted areas. Tomorrow I meet Deb Little of Dry Ridge Outfitters to go on a trail ride. Wednesday, I rejoin Leslie for a second day of fly fishing, this time on the Snake River in Wyoming.

July 11th, 2005 -- just unbelievable!!

Raven Synchronicity

Last night I started off in the bed in the corner of the motel room, but the mattress felt like the peaks of the Tetons. My hips were the highest point and my head was in the valley while my feet and knees struggled to stay on the narrow ledges. After about 2 hours of discomfort, I climbed into the other bed and had a wonderful night's sleep.

Breakfast was complimentary, and I expected continental style, but it included fruit, cereal, juice, toast, and make-your-own Belgian waffles. One guess what I had!

It was raining as I set out to explore a bit of the town of Jackson Hole, and I visited some interesting shops before I headed out to the Museum of Wildlife Art. This turned out to be the highlight of the day! As I was going in the entrance, a man was shaking a beautiful black feather dry. When I passed him, the feather flew out of his hand and landed in front of me. I picked it up and handed it back to him saying, "Are you trying to fly away?" He smiled and said it was a raven feather. I gushed a bit and asked him to find one for me. He laughed and walked into the museum and tucked the feather into a niche in the wall. It was then I realized that he worked there.

The exhibits in the museum were wonderful! There was a special Georgia O'Keefe exhibit which included some of her lesser known art subjects and techniques. A brief O'Keefe quote referred to the beauty of New Mexico desert and how she considered that a much more valid church than organized religion. The entire museum was inspiring -- one artist whose name escapes me, explained that she often starts a painting vertically, slabbing oils with a palette knife. Then, she switches to working on it horizontally and starts looking for subjects in the texture of the oils. Once she discovers the hidden, she works to bring that forth, allowing the painting to evolve. Her painting in the museum was a gorgeous work of bears and ravens. See how the raven thread is running through my day?

After a delicious lunch at the museum cafeteria, I encountered my "feather friend" again on the way out. I asked him if he had found a feather for me. He said to me that he believed in synchronicity. I allowed that I did as well. I spoke of my interest in Shamanism, and he said that he also believed in the messages we receive from our animal friends. He went on to say that because of our encounter, he felt that I was supposed to have that raven feather and he had been hoping that he would see me when I left the museum. He took the feather out of the niche and gave it to me. Naturally, I started to cry and asked if I could hug him. I did, told him I was Debbie from Pennsylvania, and asked his name -- it was Jay. I walked out of the museum holding my raven feather with tears streaming from my eyes. I was about a mile away from the museum when it occured to me that I had something to give to Jay. I made a u-turn, went back to the museum, and asked the woman at the desk to page him. When he came, I told him that I also wanted to give him a gift. I opened up a box of stones that I had decorated using tissue paper, raffia, gold leaf, and beads. I told him to select one that "spoke" to him. He did and was very touched.

Isn't it amazing how chance encounters touch the soul? I had a beautiful drive over a ridge of the Tetons, and I am now in Driggs, Idaho -- a very small town where almost nothing is open on Sunday. I am just about to head out to see if I can find a bite to eat. Keep posting your comments! I love hearing from you. Hugs to all from Idaho.

Westward Whoa!

I have arrived safely in Jackson Hole. The morning antics with my excessive luggage was like a "funky fumble," but the flights were smooth and everything was on time, even though the security was high. When I caught my first close-up glimpse of the snow-covered Rockies, I could feel the emotion bubbling up within me. The Jackson Hole airport is small, so we exited the plane right on the field -- and off to my left soared the Rockies.

I picked up my rental car and headed towards the town of Jackson, making stops at the state trout hatchery and the Visitors' Center. There was a spotting scope on the second floor of the Visitors' Center, and I spotted two ravens sitting on a fence by Flat Creek. One raven sidled towards the other amorously, and then they stroked each other with their beaks. There was definitely chemistry going on there!

I am staying at the 49er Quality Inn and Suites tonight. I decided to have dinner at the Wild Sage Restaurant about 3 blocks away. When I arrived, I was told that I needed a reservation. They were full, but western hospitality was extended and I was offered a seat on the couch facing a huge fireplace built from wonderfully smooth stones taken from the Snake River. The mantel piece was a unique piece of gnarled wood, and I found many faces and paws in the knots. An artist would have had a heyday with it -- a good subject for a sketch or painting! I kicked off my shoes, ordered a glass of Chardonnay and enjoyed an exquisite meal served on the coffee table.

It is only 7:30 here, but I am tired. I was so keyed up last night, I got about 4 hours of sleep at the most. I'm sipping a cup of hot tea and will sign off with love to all my friends.

On The Trail

Deb and Lark on the trails

Several months ago, I read and savored a priceless little book titled ZEN AND HORSES by Ingrid Soren. The author, a student of Zen Buddhism, shows how the challenges we face are finally met when we trust in the moment and, with grace, let go.

This book made me realize that my mare Lark has been one of my greatest teachers. She has taught me that my outer equilibrium is in direct proportion to my inner equilibrium. "Like meditation," Soren writes, "riding is a heightened state of concentrated awareness wherein one is neither tense or hurried, and certainly never slack." Real riding is not about control or demanding submission from the horse; rather it is about letting go, about being present, understanding cause and effect, and relationships.

Because Lark was the catalyst in making me aware of the journey, it seems only logical to introduce my blog-site by honoring the karma and power of the horse.