[just inside Yosemite Nat’l Forest]
I bathed in the river this morning, the cold, rushing water my baptism. Skin, soles, and spirit refreshed, I feel energized and washed clean of all they held from yesterday’s sleep.
Now as I drink my morning brew, I listen to the roar of this river's mighty flow. It is far from silence, which I crave after being in the city for weeks on end. This sound bath is a different kind…vibrating continuously and stirring up every single cell in my body.
We’ve become weekend warriors, my beloved and I. He battles diligently in the office all week until that god sent golden Friday finally arrives, when we already have one foot out the door. Our truck stays mostly packed with overnight essentials (clean underwear, Mexican ponchos, toilet paper, sunflower seeds, a jug of fresh water, jackets, good maps, and headlamps), and we transform from urban foot soldiers carrying the dreams and burdens of corporate America into wild warriors of the frontier, searching for solitude, adventure, and solace.
The coffee is strong, the sun is brilliant, and my soul is never as happy as it is on these silent mountain mornings.