June 15, Monday Evening
In what would have taken a Klondike Stampeder a month or two, I traversed in only a matter of hours. By way of the White Pass and Yukon Railway, which now in its’ restored state is primarily an out and back tourist run, I was transported, complete with jostling rail cars, and loud clickity-clack, up and over White Pass to Fraser, Canada. There, the masses of cruise ship tourists, boarded busses for the return to Skagway, while I was the only one left at the station and boarded a later bus, only half filled, which continued on through Carcross, then terminating at Whitehorse, Yukon. I enjoy the friendly, yet brief conversations and helpful advice while interacting with others on my path, but always when I end up walking alone, or bypassing a social campground scene to instead wander off to find solitude for the night, I am always comforted by the companionship of little birds or Ravens, or even the insects, and of course the trees and flowers, with this evenings’ music of lake shore water lapping a few feet away while my bivy camp is cozy and discreet…
June 16, Tuesday Evening
Light pitter-pattering of precipitation on my bivy bag awakened me from some strange dream, and as I have been lying down for the night in so many varieties of places lately, it actually took a few seconds to register where I was. Then, bright as late morning, I looked at my watch to see that it was 4am Yukon time, and 3am on the dial of my Alaskan time zone. Reorganizing and covering my things, then tucking back in deep to the nylon and Gore-Tex cocoon, as much for protection of persistent mosquitoes then wetness, I chuckled to myself about the first night back in Bellingham awaiting the next days’ ferry, when I was up with a jolt around 1am by the park sprinklers which gave my bivy bag a good soaking ‘till I drug it all away to a dry spot… So the day here in Whitehorse has been wet, steadily so much that my hitching period only lasted an hour on the north side of town before I caved in retracing the few miles and dried out in the library. I’ll have another bivy camp somewhere tonight and spend more dough on a bus to Tok at 6am tomorrow. It’s all good and part of the divine I remind myself, there’s no time, only timing, which is perfectly endless…
June 17, Wednesday Evening
My God, how could I have known anything other than the vague yet persistent Truth that I am very guided, supported, protected, and blessed!! With this morning’s awakening next to a picnic table under roof cover, feeling a bit urban bum-like due to traffic noise and proximity to town, I wondered sleepily what gem this day might present. The multi-hour van ride was good from the start with only two other passengers and a whole bench seat for myself, swimming merrily away from the rainy morning, passing a walking hitcher near where I was yesterday, which could have been me this morning. The one foreign backpacker was left at Haines Junction, then Robert the cook stayed at Burwash Lodge, while I leaped at the phone book and called the little breakfast place where I think my walking stick stayed as I walked away hurriedly to the van. I became attached to this sturdy, smooth piece of wood found on the path to Mendenhall glacier after carving some symbols into it while camped at Sturgills’ in Skagway, becoming sentimentally valuable, and now providing the lesson of “letting go”. So, in its’ place I received a large gift from Dave, the driver, who, after some time of interesting conversation, graciously offered me the use of his cabin-home in Tok, where I now sit, ever so amazed and comfortable on the couch. A cabin to myself in the woods of Alaska where I can kick it, read and listen through some of his extensive tape collection, while amazed again at just how creative the Universe and Great Spirit get when given the ingredients of an open schedule, an open mind, willingness for adventure to the unknown, and the void in which to manifest experiential joy! With certainty of nothing but divine synchronicity, I venture forth, guided, supported, protected, and blessed…
June 18, Thursday Evening
A day of rest, and of reading, and of feeding, of mind, body, soul… A day of contemplation from the indoor perspective, and that of contrast. Waking to the depth of softness provided by the couch, ranks as far less appealing than firm forest floor, or even picnic table for that matter, especially as the walls of a solid structure isolate one from the outside environment with fresh air, birdsong, and all else happening in the “natural” world. Shelter from the elements is not un-natural, just disconnecting and something like self-imprisonment. I would not say being indoors is not preferred at times, just highly overrated and over utilized. Still, I enjoyed the time with reading and playing various cassette tapes from the large collection here, and have picked up on the feelings of this diversions’ purpose. An opportunity to envision certain similarities of past home life in Colorado, when the boys were young, and our family intact, reminiscing years of a good many experiences for us all. Now, on my own, I like the freshness of new scenery and surroundings so much that wandering freely seems to suit me best. On the road, as I am, to explore the world and allow myself the changing direction of winds and the flow of tides, adrift in the conscious cosmos…
June 19, Friday Night
Such a feeling of freedom welled up from within, to produce the glowing smile on my face, as I stood with thumb extended on arm raised high, accompanied with my little cardboard sign for my destination of Slana, the energy attracted a ride quite quickly. The big rig, with empty flat bed trailer slowly came to a stop and I opened the door, lifted my pack way up and in, and off we went. Riding high above the asphalt at a casual speed, we talked of the rapidly increasing ills of modern society, and the divine leveling of these imbalances soon to come, with worse leading to better eventually. Dark, brooding rain clouds adding dramatic effect to the stark wilderness, so far removed from politics and urban congestion, I gratefully recognized yet another helping soul on my journey, as the truck pulled away leaving me happy to be alive and well, to walk towards Huck Hobbits’ Homestead several miles down the Nabesna road, while the gentle rain of the clearing storm blessed my path of an empty road. After a mile of joyful walking and only the second car to be going my way, I hopped in to another kind souls’ transportation to shorten the walk. Three miles later I got out where the gravel ended and mud began at a small creeks’ bridge. Rejoicing in the wide open wilderness and parting clouds, following this muddy track through the stunted, scraggly Black Spruce of this northern permafrost forest, I arrived at the home of Joy and Steve Hobbes, to the smells of fresh baked cookies, and kind welcoming hospitality. Though a tent site was only 5 dollars, I could hardly decline this sweet little cabin for 20 dollars as better shelter from the marauding mosquitoes, and a far fresher, cozy indoor feeling than the stuffy Tok cabin. Though it is now 11 o’clock at “night”, there is no indication of darkness, yet I will now sweetly slumber away in more divine luxury provided by such benevolent Spirit, as is the guiding presence on my blessed journey. By myself, yet not alone, I travel with confidence that all is beautifully just as it should be…
June 20, Saturday Night
A magical mystery tour through time, space, and trust, as this day of traveling unfolded. Beginning with a very restful sleep in the little cabin, a much appreciated shower, and the viewing of an Alaskan wilderness video with guitar music played by Steve Hobbes. Then, a freshly baked cinnamon roll from Joy, and drive out to the highway by Steve, finished off a very pleasant stay with a glimpse into the lives of these homesteaders. The traffic was indeed minimal going both directions, especially my way, but I was quite surprised when the first 3 hours passed and still no one had stopped for me. Many pages and a few chapters later, along with a few sprinkles, many dark clouds passing and a bit of blessed sunshine, I stood in awe of timeless synchronicity. At 5 ½ hours, I stuffed my pack in the back of Ed’s fully filled truck, and my body in the passenger seat of the cab stuffed with stuff. He’d been driving straight through from Salt Lake City, Utah, heading to his summer place, still 500 miles further away. A cabinet maker for over 30 years, our hour drive conversation revolved around woodworking, and at Glennallen, where I got out, he proudly showed to me the beautiful wood counter top he made and brought to install in his place. A micro-waved meal of 2 breakfast burritos at the mini-mart and I was back on the asphalt by 8pm, still bright as mid-day and under mostly clear skies, I figured to try for a ride further on down the road. Another hour passed and my sights were set on finding a place to camp, then resume hitching in the morning, when, at the precise moment of surrendering, another fully loaded pick-up pulled over and I climbed in ever so gratefully, to be driven by Mark going to his river guide job, accompanied with his girl Theresa, possessing strikingly beautiful blue eyes. We talked of rafting, bears, and mosquitoes until my turn off road came and I got out, shouldered my pack and audibly expressed gratitude to Spirit for such an amazing day of travel, fine people, and opportunity to practice patience. Standing at a crossroad, with several hours of road still ahead, I happily head towards a lake shimmering beyond some trees. Following an old overgrown track, I come upon the relics of some torn apart bicycles and other debris, but looking like there has been no recent activity, I smoothed out a spot under a tree only 20 feet from lake shore. Then, with only 2 seconds for fear to develop, a Wolf appears, coming straight for me, only to be greeted by a most friendly canine messenger, with tail happily wagging, indicating I was safe here, travels done for the day and blessed as always…
June 21, Summer Solstice Night
Dawn happens while still asleep, 5am brings full daylight, and a mirror surface on the lake reflects clear sky. I’m standing at the crossroads by 6am, warmed and smiling under a Solstice Sun, peaceful stillness fosters tranquil gratitude within my soul. Bounding happily towards me come the 2 dogs from last nights’ visit, the Wolf girl and her pal, a more domestic looking short hair breed, both greeting me with loving happiness, and I blissfully grateful to reciprocate this love. For half an hour we three visited, exchanging furry massage for unconditional love, and when the time came, they trotted away without looking back, without any attachment, while I overflowed to tears from the pure message delivered by these loving Spirit beings. Minutes later, Neil, the Chitna NPS Ranger stops, then delivers me to precisely where I wanted to be, and sets me up with info for my hike. Very soon after thumbing for the continuation to McCarthy, Mike and Theresa, with their 2 teen boys, allow me into the truck bed filled with camp gear, and I get a windy, dusty, happy ride with photo stops and a sandwich over the entire 60+ miles of gravel road, delivering me to precisely where I wanted to be. The Fatherly Sun provided immense love, kindness, support, and blessings for me today, and I am elatedly humbled to my core…
June 22, Monday Evening
Almost too exhausted to write, after such a day of energy spent to cover the 7 or more miles to where I now rest. Yesterday evenings’ camp at Jumbo Creek, a mile or so beyond the historic Kennecott mill town buildings, was this morning’s launch point for the destination of the “knoll”, far past the end of Root glacier trails’ obvious path. Several miles of walking over the loose and jumbled rocks of lateral moraine, and atop the icy glacier itself, with up and down, zigzag route finding, several very exciting narrow, but deep crevasse jumps, and finally, the last section of steeply inclined, meadow-like vegetation full of wildflowers, then bushwhacking through wet leaved willow thickets to arrive in drizzle high above the glacier trunk below. This sub-alpine perch offers a full view of the massive ice fall, which has many thousands of vertical feet elevation drop from the summits now hidden by cloud cover. So elated I am to have the next two days here for full appreciation of this humbling scene…
June 23, Tuesday Evening
As one secret of life is enjoying the passing of time, this day has been sweetly enjoyable by doing very little, and being content to watch clouds cast shadows on the rugged terrain. Most of the sky harbored drifting clouds, white, wispy or moisture laden and dark, showing an occasional window of blue beyond, several times allowing full sun to intensify the colors of flowers and foliage. The massive ice fall, with surrounding peaks lofting high in the obscuring mist, turned from flat lit whitened grays, to pure white and shades of blue when illuminated directly by sunshine. Occasionally at night or day, a rolling, tumbling, thunder noise comes drifting from the Stairway ice fall, telling of a falling mass hidden somewhere in the jumbled maze. Nothing else to do, and nowhere else to be, I rested body by minimal movement, and voice by remaining speechless, meditating in stillness, dumb-struck by the awe of immense, over powering mountain scenery. Fathoming the depth of timeless ages, to which this glacial entity has moved its’ living mass, dwarf’s by perspective all to which mankind has ever achieved in our brief and over glorified existence on Mother Earth…
June 24, Wednesday Evening
Two complete turns on Earths’ axis since setting up camp, as drizzle turned to rain, I now enjoy full sunshine on this west facing slope, as long shadows slowly make headway across the glacier filled valley. Yesterdays’ summit enshrouding clouds vaporized with today’s high arc of sun, through cobalt blue sky that back dropped harsh rock and ice ridgeline, creating a stark contrast of solid Earth, against the blue void of Space. Raw and exposed are the towering rock faces, snow free and black, or marbled by snow encrusted ledges and chutes, between which is the immense cascade of ice, inching its way down to valley floor from several thousands’ of feet above. This pure and naked Earth, caressed by gentle breeze and warm sunlight, inspired me to stand naked before her, allowing the Fatherly Suns’ rays to grace my whole body, as they passed through the atmospheric breath of Mother Earth, energizing my soul and rejuvenating every cell I am composed of. Like the flowers, which adorn this haven of life during the brief summers between frigid winters, I turn to face the life giving sunshine, absorbing all its’ blessedly divine energy and humbly express deep gratitude for the miracle of which I am in the presence of. Such a day of peace and gentleness in this rugged landscape is a blessing indeed, and taken as a gift from the benevolent Universe that I am an inseparable component of, now and for eternity…
June 25, Thursday Night
Early morning twilight dreams gave way to awakening, a quick breakfast, packing up, and ready for the descent, just at the very moment of sunshine greeting my face from over the ridgeline. I walk down and towards the newly illuminated glacier, moving smoothly over rock encrusted ice, then onto pure ice, then loose moraine. Seeing a “shortcut”, directly up a steep angled frozen moraine slope, I opt for this climb on cemented gravels and small rocks. So carefully, one hold for foot or hand at a time, calling on my past climbers’ focus and Angelic protection, I ascend to the top, while un-desiring of looking down at the waiting peril below. Doubtless there was anytime saved, but ever so grateful for the adrenaline filled adventure, I savored each step of the well defined trail which led me back, and away from true wildness. After devouring a celebratory burger, brew and ice cream, then a two hour drowsy wait on the gravel road, my ride came from an older, but very fit hiking couple returning to Anchorage. Getting out at Chitna an hour past closing of the ranger station, I stash backpack and prepare to camp there ‘till morning. Apparently glowing a mountainous radiance, my 1 beer stop at Uncle Toms’ Tavern spawned a cascade of generosity from a few Chitna locals gifting me more beer, smoked salmon, kind words, heartfelt communication, and gifts of heightened friendships…
June 26, Friday Night
Hard to say that it is night, when there is so much light, the orange quarter moon hangs low in twilight, and from within, I feel my own warm candle light. In sacred reverence I bow to the divine flow in all these illuminated days, into the unknown with the eyes of a mystic. To arrive at such a place as Port Valdez, from a kind soul as a wounded man on his way home, and I along for the ride, through alpine pass majesty, to head of deep water fjord, surrounded by plunging mountainous peaks. Guided, I arrived at Bear Paw tent camp and received 2 distinct gifts, of which one is the private wood deck platform and table, atop the very summit of a small hill, overlooking the bay across to the infamous oil storage and transport terminal for a pipeline, yet dwarfed indifferently by massive alpine peaks above. The other gift was of the endless shower of hot water, as a bonus to this 20 dollar campsite, where I washed away 6 days of sweat and dead skin, as well as my dirty clothes, under the divine cleansing flow. Now treated to sweet serenading music, from a relative to the little Hermit Thrush who brought me such joy at the Mendenhall glacier camp, singing the same cosmically imprinted melodious song, welcoming me to his home by the sea, and in the mountains…
June 27, Saturday Night
Walking around in a Valdez daze, going nowhere but somewhere to explore, absorbing the feel of this town between peaks and sea. Through generic, any town suburb streets, with homes larger than seems necessary, lawns to mow and wide streets for snow, all grown from money flowing into town on the oil pipeline. Such a rich ecosystem supports myriads of life forms, from plankton to grizzly bears, the sea, sky and mountainous land are home to countless links in the chain of life. Though damaged and broken, at times in places, by the semi-conscious deeds of man, measured, studied, and prognosticated towards no end, we as a species and inhabitant, are but only one link ourselves, weakened by our own disconnect from the source. When not at “work” we are vacationing, spending time and money in various forms of recreation, primally pulled into the void of vacant time, drawn towards the dawn of creation for rejuvenation. This process of renewal is present within each moment and requires only stillness of mans’ egoic mind to observe. Participation as an elemental body, in the magic of perpetual creation, comes fluidly to a natural mystic…
June 28, Sunday Night
Just before the crack of noon, I said goodbye to my luxurious hilltop deck campsite, after an easy Sunday morning under warm sunshine. Blessed with calm weather, the mountains called and invited me to walk towards yet another glacier, the Valdez, spilling from the icy heights amongst soaring peaks. Conveniently placed for just such an occasion, was the smooth ribbon of asphalt constructed only for self-propelled wheels and feet, allowing me to glide along the several miles with only a few passers by, while my consciousness was free to flow in the expansive nature of the moments unfolding with each step forward. A change to the crunch of gravel beneath my boots signaled the nearing of camp, and distancing from people, as the end of pavement often promotes. Divine guidance again placed my spirit in such a place of reverent beauty, with soft sand for a campsite, hugging the glacial silt laden stream, flowing from a small terminal moraine lake. The full radius of horizon is a jagged profile of ridgelines and snowy summits, encircling me with humbling majesty, and sacred mountainous comfort…
June 29, Monday Evening
Hardly one could find more examples of fortuitous circumstances arising from the simplicity of “going with the flow” and “living in the moment”, as has been the norm on this Alaskan adventure, and no less this very day itself. Taking my sweet time in camp this morning, absorbing as much beautiful vibration as possible before finally walking away, towards town again, enjoying meditative, ascending spiral music for the smooth path, I found myself transported to the post office where mail was waiting. Support being sustained from the Universal endowment for the arts brought a comforting sigh of relief, then a walk to the bank. Next, over to purchase a ferry passage to Whittier, but being reminded of Tuesday being the one day it’s not available, so on with the flow I go, again having 2 more nights stay in Valdez, for a Wednesday departure. Walking into the unknown of a camp location and not desiring of another 20 dollar campsite in town, I confidently amble towards the small boat harbor aware of unseen guidance from Great Spirit. By going around a locked, closed gate on a gravel spur road to a small promontory of wooded land, elevated and set apart from the sea level activities, then poking around little trails through ripening Salmon berry thickets, I now find myself relaxing ever so comfortably in a clearing underneath 3 mature Spruce trees, growing on the very edge of the cliffs plunging straight down into the undulating sea almost 30 feet below, and only 2 feet away from my camp for this night…
June 30, Tuesday Evening
My recent little saying which comes to mind, “Why plan ahead, when you can wait ‘till now?!” , has shown it’s pertinence all along and again today surfaced, as I had plans for one thing to happen which did not, then I proceeded to schedule out my remaining 9 days until the flight to Seattle, ending this particular journey. Like drawing cards to fill an “inside straight” in a game of Poker, I found myself working between the “now”, and the “then” of a time and date into the near future, attempting to place this sequential flow into the blank squares of my calendar. Not until the then becomes the now will I be certain of how well the cards play out, yet I have no doubt the deck is stacked in my favor, as the reciprocation from a divine and benevolent dealer. Enjoying somewhat of a respite from walking any large distances today, my seat took some of the load off my feet, while sitting by the harbor to hear stories from a long time Valdez local, then at the library for a seamless book exchange as part of spiritual alchemy, and later, stretched out on sunshine warmed beach rocks in a sheltered cove. Now, backpack providing back rest, sitting yet again, there is a numbing awareness as the Sun hangs low, that I prefer sore feet, to a tired seat. A cool evening breeze arrives from the ocean beyond, while wispy high altitude clouds bring shadow to sky scraping mountains, both signaling transition, movement, impermanence, and change…
July 1, Wednesday Night
The secret to cracking a code, is finding its’ pure source in simplicity. So then, to enter the paid campgrounds’ nice shower rooms was to press 4, then 5, 4 to 5, so I deciphered that between 4am and 5am was the free portal of opportunity provided by Spirit, and under that free flowing hot water, I rejoiced as a conscious player in the matrix of manifestation. With a drag and a drop, a keypad code, and a few passwords, I was handed a ticket for passage on the M/V Aurora, through Prince William Sound to Whittier. Flat light from low cloud ceiling cast liquid silver across the surface, punctuated by drifting ice, sculpted intricately beautiful, reflecting hues of blues. Sensuously navigating through potential peril in a seal skin kayak, ages ago when wild was the only way, the travelers left their sense of awe and wonder from such raw and humbling beauty, which I now absorb into my stirring soul. On sacred mountain meadow I lay for the night, heart swelling from bliss, comforted by exposed rock and massive glacial presence, in peace…
July 2, Thursday Night
Just before midnight now and dazed from the magic of the day. Awakening in sweet sub-alpine grandeur, with Portage glacier as front door scenery, and the silvery still fjord water below and behind. Rising from the dream world of surreal energy exchange to that of mortal desires fueled with black espresso, I allow precious bodily fluid to join the natural world, and send the full, red bellied mosquito on its’ way with my blessings. Cardboard ticket to Anchorage in hand, I approach the first of only two cars in line, as they wait for a green light to pass through the 2 ½ mile single lane tunnel, and was pleasantly granted a ride in their truck, depositing me amidst the sprawl of this Alaskan city. The Backpackers’ Hostel is where my anchor is grounded for this night, holding me only for convenience until morning comes to drift into the wild again. So much concentration of humanity easily shows its’ flaws and absurdity, in comparison to my beloved simplicity. At home in the wilds I am in Peace…
July 3, Friday Evening
Busting out from a soft mattress and stale air, stilled form the confines of closed door and window, I walk out of town as cars hiss and trucks rumble past on their hurried exodus from the urban jungle. My cardboard ticket to Denali took only minutes to bring a van to stop for me, and join its’ workday ride to Wasilla, though with drivers’ error, we backtracked 20 miles to the city again, and then completed the circuit by passing our turn-around point. My self written and Spirit blessed ticket worked charmingly again from my second standing location, to ride with a young field biologist going home to Fairbanks for a holiday visit. Door closed and chariot gone, I arrived very timely in Denali National Park, to go through a friendly, yet procedural process of registering for a backcountry permit. The massive dimensions, trail-less access and true wilderness of this home to Wolf and to Grizzly, make for a more committing experience and preparation from the human visitor. Glimpses of the prized summit view were had on the drive under very clear skies, offering a hint as to the unequaled size of any other mountain in North America. Tomorrow, I venture out with independence to be in the wilds…
July 4, Saturday Evening
And into the wild I am! Dropped off somewhere around 68 miles from the main highway, along the well maintained gravel park road which is traveled only by the permitted busses and a few private vehicles, I watched as the big green bus became miniature, before leaving sight completely around a descending ridge. With only a topographic map, my known starting point, and a basic desired direction towards a south facing slope, with fresh running water near, I left the roadside behind and ventured into trail-less wilderness. Grizzly Bears being the primary hazard for my solo travel, I began the process of announcing my presence so as not to surprise one, by calling out in Spanish for my own entertainment, and to release the latent primal fear within me… Hola Osos! Tiene Osos’ aqui? Esta solomente yo!... With no animals in sight, I filled water containers at Moose Creek and gained a small hill above, with a direct line of sight to the smoky haze veiled summit of Denali, from my chosen campsite. Shortly after making camp, I see a full size Grizzly, blond, with cinnamon accents, come ambling while grazing towards me, indifferent to my being here in its’ land, so immense, and so very grand…
July 5, Sunday Evening
Denali’s massive presence greeted my vision, upon rising from the dreamland dimension, while peering out from the tent. Looming broadly across a wide horizon, fully snow covered from its’ altitude, the sharp profile of summit and ridgelines set against a clear morning sky, yet sepia toned from smoke hanging in the cool air. As the Sun gained higher angle, stirring the winds to ignite the sacred foliage, elevating minute particles to be suspended and drifting, the smoky filter obscured the mountainous vision from the magic transformation of divine flame. Purification through oxidization and perspiration, as if in a Native sweat lodge ceremony, I meditated under a nylon roof surrounded by the protection of mosquito inhibiting mesh. With only an occasional word or two as greeting to flower, bug, or resident ground squirrel neighbor, I remain silent throughout the warm day, listening to trickling stream, buzzing insects, distant birdsong, and the whispering wind. Frequently scanning hillsides and riverbed for signs of movement, yesterday evenings’ Grizz remained disinterested in my presence and absent from this area, though I sensed my own over vigilance when descending to the river for water. The humbling feeling imposed by wide expanses of treeless slopes, naked to the Wind and Sun, I absorb Natures’ raw and wild energy, filling my spirit with peace, while dissolving tenacious ego…
July 6, Monday Evening
According to a somewhat arbitrary calendar, though none the less as powerful as a lunar or galactic version of tracking cycles, on this day 48 years ago, my body emerged into the world of gaseous oxygen, leaving behind the one of fluid. Ever since, my lungs have fed upon the air, transferring molecules to streams of blood, as part of the sustaining miracle of life in symbiotic synchronicity, exchanging with the plant kingdom what each breathes in, what the other breathes out. Open heartedly, I give thanks and high praise for my existence in both the physical and spiritual planes, grateful to give and receive energy. Humbly, and without doubt of value, I accept the gifting of spontaneous urge to begin braiding the strong yet supple reed grass I was compelled to harvest yesterday. In sacred reverence, strands of grass are woven by fingers remembering an ancient task, while I look on with amazement as the creation is entwined before me. For much of this day, braided sections link with others, lengthening meditative action while body rests in stillness, producing a gift to myself of tangible and intangible beauty in simplicity. Sacred cleansing smoke from fires far and near, rise purifyingly high into cosmically conscious space, adding particulate substance into the voids for which to facilitate the exchange of intent, into manifested actuality. Peace becomes palpable, love turns visceral, moments are eternal, transition is perpetual, unity inevitable…
July 7, Tuesday Evening
Dreamy through the twilight, awakened by piercing sunlight, illuminating yellow nylon for a cheery morning glow. Emerging to a vision bright, and clearly past the smoky phase of prior days, blue sky above and behind massive dimensions of mountainous immensity, draped heavy with pure white snow, Denali, “The Great One”, exposes herself in stark brilliance. I rise to greet sweet rays of Sun upon my face, and vocalize gratitude for all that is given or received through divine connection to Great Spirit. In recognition of the peaceful vibes, a large bull Moose calmly grazes, and then sits to rest near enough to hear my welcome of his presence, to my visit, in his home. On this third full day, approaching a fourth and final night, camped in sacred quietude, I have begun to blend within this wilderness as it permeates my being, absorbed into the whole, united with flowers, rocks, and faint birdsong, all caressed with flowing breeze. A seamless weave of wild grass manifests mysteriously from fingertips, called into the physical from premonition, and taking its’ rightful place wrapped around the balanced center of sacred staff. Full Sun intensely focused, burns symbols into wood, releasing it’s meaning through wispy transformation, while crystalline gems adorn and accentuate this magical wand. Consciousness expanded, ego diminished, another rising horizon signals cyclic eternity to this journey of Spirit…
July 8, Wednesday Midnight
A gentle cleansing rain brings this day to a close, now heavier drops fall into the first minutes of tomorrow, the Heavens’ sweet tears of laughing and crying as the same release, with confirmation of Angelic Sisterly presence. 21 hours ago, Earth’s Sister, Moon, drifted full across snowy summits, low and orange, she gracefully showed her face while I heated water for breakfast, in awe of such celestial union from the passing of these heavenly bodies. Visual presence was brief, allowing focus to break camp and part from my hilltop perch of the last several days, walking away from the Altar, supremely blessed and humbled. Barely containing surges of emotion, yet deeply sensitized to the environment beneath my feet, I met again the Grizzly friend, just ahead and emerging from riparian brush. Mutual respect of our individual intentions recognized, each allowed to continue on their way, my heart overflowed with acceptance, producing tears of joy to fall from the windows of my soul. Soft tundra steps gave way to a harsh but welcome road of gravel crunching underfoot, leading me out of wilderness, arriving once again into the eternal moment of perpetual transition, spiritually guided, supremely supported, wholly protected, divinely blessed…
July 9, Thursday Midnight
The smell of rain, and with it came, a southbound train, time to ramble on. We rode the rails together, yet I found myself strangely separated from the others, not so much a tourist as a traveler of time and space, indicated even by my seat number of 4-D. Burning diesel, transforming fossil fuel to electricity, transferred to wheels of steel on steel, pulling mass, rolling momentum, passing Nature by. Distanced by speed and miles, aloof in thought, I live within my hearts wilderness, silent, alone, connected to all. As a detached observer, amidst some concentrated cosmic experiment of human diversity gone awry, the urban element is puzzling and repulsive, crowded with noise, filled with aberrations, devoid of peace and tranquility. City bus to international airport, where polished granite floors support the comings and goings of all shapes, sizes and styles, a cross section to one specie, succumbed to rampant genetic modifications. Beings yet we are, with souls and hearts driven by love, seeking fulfillment and purpose, craving joy and laughter, residing within our miraculous bodies. All on our individual missions, collectively united, variably conscious, inhabiting the same home as an orb in space, graced with a rare and divine ability to birth life, she is our Mother, seeded from the infinite, and the journey never ends…
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
"Why Plan Ahead, When You Can Wait 'Till Now?!" (First 3 weeks to go along with Part 1 video)
Why Plan Ahead,
When You Can Wait ‘Till Now?!
A Journal from Alaska
By: Tim Middleton
May 21, 2009 Thursday Sunset
A clear sunrise this morning marked the beginning of a new adventure, or rather the continuation of one in mind, body, and soul for my last 30 years. When I saw the shoreline of Port Townsend drifting further away, I knew this had actually begun. Now, I watch the sunset on the still and cloudless horizon from Marine Park near the ferry terminal in Fairhaven. Golden light shimmers on the blessed waters which will float the vessel tomorrow, north to Alaska. I am in the flow of Spirit, guided, supported, protected, and blessed…
May 22, Friday Sunset
The physical journey has now begun! My vessel afloat is the M/V Columbia, strong and sleek, she carries many who venture north along the Inside Passage. A very diverse bunch indeed, yet those of us walk on passengers not wanting the expense and seclusion of a bunk opt for the outside deck areas to commune. Some tents are set up on the uncovered portion, but under the “Solarium” many occupy lounge chairs for sleeping and protection from the elements. As I sit here now with calm waters, clear skies and luxurious comfort under the heaters, with fresh air and expansive views, I feel the sweet reward of divine blessing in this first leg to Ketchikan. The journey to Alaska has just begun!
May 23, Saturday Night
Had a few beers at the bar with my friend Toddy from New Zealand, talking with him and others on this voyage, all with different stories, life experiences and reasons for being on their journey. I have no job to go to, no family here, no agenda to fulfill and not running away from anything. My journey is simple really, to be consciously aware of my spirit journey within this physical body. Carrying supplies on my back, I will walk to where I go. The seeker on a path of infinite exploration from place to place, moment to moment, living in the eternal transitional now, freely flowing into the void of space…
May 24, Sunday Night
The Sun’s first light greeted my sleepy eyes as I looked through the starboard window. Calm water and weather again, with a few thin clouds to dramatize the orange and blue morning, we smoothly made port in Ketchikan at 7:30am. Alone, I walked into this dream of my first steps on Alaska land down the gritty sidewalk into town. Several Bald Eagles were in the marina, two of which were munching on a morning catch I presume, while standing on the exposed mud flat. With very little flat land for the humans, houses of colorful, ragtag varieties occupied the steep hillsides reached by zigzag stairways in some places. Walking further to the familiar sign of a Safeway market, I noticed my attention seeing all the cars’ license plates as Alaskan, which is often the case when in a new state or country. Walking into the cruise ship port area, through the pods of just arrived tourists, I chuckled to myself at the obvious contrast in our mode of travel. My backpack fully loaded to 50 pounds and above my head, was miniscule beneath the three towering ships docked to allow several thousand people to wander and shop. Though laden with this weight, I felt light and free, walking briskly past the lumbering tourists. Upon reaching my trailhead to Deer Mountain, I entered humbly into the forest. After two hours of steep, well maintained trail, some patches of snow crunched underfoot. Walking on higher, I now sit cozily in my tent on a snow covered mountainside overlooking the busy port town. I will sleep now for the first night, of many yet to come, in Alaska…
May 25, Monday Evening
Guided, supported, protected, and blessed. In all ways of my life I know this to be truth. Awakening this morning, snuggly warm within my shelter, the foggy drizzle enshrouding the mountain domain, I felt safe and comforted. Walking down the trail from whence I came, there was no disappointment in the change from earlier thoughts of an 11 mile, 3 night loop. First thing on the agenda… Dispense with the agenda! Returning to town, I went south for 2 ½ miles to Saxman Totem Park. Woody, the Native gatekeeper, gifted me with kindness and directions to a safe, free camp spot where I now lay. The little island of hill and trees gives me shelter, privacy and waterfront view where boats and ships pass, to and from town. The tide ebbs and flows at my feet…
May 26, Tuesday Evening
Walking many miles yesterday from mountain to sea, then today to Perseverance Lake, it totals around 15. Though the up hills are a bit tougher, I feel strong and light footed. Flowing in timelessness, the events roll on with synchronicity… From mornings’ awakening in bivy shelter to spread out breakfast luxury on picnic table under cover, then to shopping mall for warm and dry Taco Time brunch, while rain pours down outside. As if on queue, the rain stopped when I was ready to walk. Then, on finding internet access unexpectedly in the ferry terminal, and on waiting only minutes for the bus across the street. An earlier impulse to call Totem Bight State Park revealed no camping when the book had indicated so… So now I sit snuggly warm in tent again, atop a raised platform overlooking Perseverance Lake. Supreme beauty of all things in the flow, as is my blessed journey…
May 27, Wednesday Evening
Alone with myself and no other humans, accompanied only by trees, plants, mountains, lake, birdsong, spattering rain, distant waterfalls, wind, and all that is primal. My voice is not needed, no one to talk to and so much to hear. The echoing calls of a lone Raven, or haunting Hermit Trush, or others winged and wild. True “white noise” from cascading, tumbling, frothy streams descending as melted snow, the waves of sound flowing atop the depths of stilled water nestled in this ancient valley. I live here for a day or two, as a guest, humbled by majestic eons of timelessness, amidst rhythms of natural process, ongoing, cyclic, earthly and cosmic. Sheltered and warmed by nylon, fed by imported nutrition, my existence is artificial by design. Not a day would I live, or a night survive, as do the other animals who call this home. The Wolf, the Bear, the winged and the furred, each independent, each integral to the whole, sustained by instinct, carried by generations countless back in time, and my primitive soul is stirred…
May 28, Thursday Evening
The busy and cluttered waterfront of Ketchikan fades into the grey mist as the M/V Taku pulls away from the docks. With one last visit to town and the boarding of this vessel, I completed one chapter and begin yet another on this voyage to Wrangell. Waking this morning to blue skies, to pleasantly pack away a dry tent and walk out in warmth, then a quick visit to Totem Bight State Park, now all is again grey, drizzly southeast Alaskan weather. Still, I am comfortable under the solarium with a view to the stern and only one other on this deck with me, reclined in relative luxury. Absent is the communal spirit from the first voyage, and with only 6 hours ahead the time will pass with dinner, a shower and a brief rest. Then a midnights’ walk of a mile to City Park where I should find suitable space for my tent to slumber into the dawn…
May 29, Friday Mid-day
A gentle rain welcomed me to the empty streets of Wrangell, as I walked alone with Spirit to guide me towards my camp. In the darkness I found the park and unexpected shelter over two picnic tables, one of which I chose as my bed. Only minutes after arriving, I heard the ships horn signal its’ departure, and my slumber began with warmth, dryness, and recognition of support from Spirit. Grey morning with steady rain and a beautiful shoreline view across to misty islands, surrounded here by lush forest and swift little stream behind me, where I dip my pot for heated water, to hydrate my food, and warm my inner body. An added bonus of a fire pit and scraps of dry wood give me a comforting fire to warm my hands and soul. Bald Eagles, young and mature, play on the wing or sit still on perch of old pylon, branch or rocky shore. Their squeaky call now familiar, I recognize their prominent presence. Today I rest, no need to walk anywhere, content to just be, a silent observer of motion and stillness…
May 30, Saturday Evening
A touch of the human drama has for a short time entered the story from the befriending of Tom and Deborah, actually, more they to me, yet I have willingly accepted the time of conversation yesterday, and today I ride with them to a campsite at Lower Salamander Creek where we are sharing company. So quickly I see how certain socializing is easy to sway one from the calm, quiet simplicity of being alone. Though some intellectually thought stimulating dialog has surfaced, I find the weaknesses of human nature soon spoil the desire for continued interaction. People are people, and I the same with traits of my own, and though not of a judgmental position, but I would just as soon remain aloof to commune with the furred and feathered, the flowing and growing of stream and tree. A human I am indeed, answering my own call from the wild, from here on Earth, as well as from deep in the great cosmos…
May 31, Sunday Evening
A bright blue sky above and the Suns’ first light, low through the young uncurling ferns greeted my smiling face at mornings’ awakening. Later, the curt chatter and subtle bickering between Tom and Deborah brought opportunity for gratitude of the opposite to peacefulness, which is otherwise the norm. Soon enough, we parted and I walked through town with its’ quiet Sunday streets and closed shops, to my place of quietude at Petroglyph Beach. Where the Ancients sat, when no motor boats roared past to disturb natural sounds, I have been at rest recalling the peace within. Cover to cover, I read without interruption “The Call of the Wild” for a second time, bringing forth in me the primitive stirrings. On this little sandy beach, with a musical stream to my side and an exceptionally warm, clear day to strip me of all but pants, I absorb the primal peace. I will sleep with the stars as the Sun is hidden again, and lulled to sleep by gentle sounds of water flowing to sea…
June 1, Monday Night
Arising early at the break of day, 5:30 am at least, though the sky was light much earlier, a quick breakfast and walk through town to wait for grocery shopping at 8am. Passing time with a stroll to Chief Shakes Island, I was gifted with a nice Eagle feather that I accepted as a sweet surprise in my path. Now with Raven and Eagle medicine on my pack, there is a feeling of acceptance of my entering. Aboard the Taku once more, with many under the solarium, we pulled away from Wrangell on a particularly warm day. Sunning on deck, shirtless and sweating, it seemed incongruent with the snowy peaks and spilling glaciers in view. Now as the midnight twilight casts a hue of blue on sky reflected water, with but only a few twinkling heavenly bodies, we turn and sway towards dawn in Sitka, under the steady vibrating pulse of engine, and bright shining moon…
June 2, Tuesday Night
The Taku was at rest for a few hours while docked at Sitka as were all the slumbering passengers. Underway at 6am in remarkably calm, clear conditions. The day was spent lapsing in and out of delirious rest, then reading and lounging in the warmth, while endless scenes of snow capped peaks, forested mountains, intriguing islands, and an occasional whale passed by. Having made friends with two young travelers, Cass and Sandy, a Canadian and a Brit, the connection was made to share a taxi from the ferry in Juneau to our camp now at Mendenhall Glacier Lake. The snow covered and jagged peaks arise directly behind this massive moving river of ancient ice, with a huge face of bluish-white blocks looming just above the lake. I am in awe and happily amazed to be here now after 30 years of desire, and also grateful to have a good vibe to share with traveling friends.
June 3, Wednesday Night
What a glorious sight of morning light on lake, glacier, snow, mountain, and trees! A fine meditation while seated in front of such magnificence, fully warmed under beaming Sun and clear blue sky. Humbled again, yet a part of it all, like one speck of glacial silt flowing down stream from its’ recent release of icy purpose, I too join the journey of transformation, released to play in the flow of life… These travels in Alaska, 130 years since John Muir roamed the southeast’s treasures, I now absorb, and confirm an old souls desire to contemplate this glacier filled land. Cass, Sandy and I walked and bussed along the 14 mile route to downtown Juneau for a taste of the local urbanity, and with 5 cruise ships in port the streets were humming. Internet, lunch, and groceries for backpacking was my 21st century version of preparation to hit the trail. The jovial energy was fruitful to bring about abundance of experiential treats!
June 4, Thursday Night
Though my watch indicates after 10pm, the sky is illuminated colorfully and bright. Such as my perch for camp is, high above the massive Mendenhall glacier, surrounded by towering summits of rock and snow, my significance is but a speck amidst this Earthly Mother, birthing pure grandeur. The immensity and epic timelessness is cosmically divine, and truly staggering to behold! John Muir’s words ring out true, that this is God’s finest work of sculpting force, and no mans’ words could tell of a finer example of the Supreme Being. My home of nylon on this ledge is a vantage like no other and spectacular photographs come from a simple composition, and push of the button. Plays of light in shades of aqua blue, dance in the river of ice, while torrents fall freely, fiercely and thunderously over the precipice, accelerated with new found energy, while buildings of sculpted ice topple forward and down towards the sea…
June 5, Friday Evening
Ceremoniously sacred and high, above turquoise tarns nestled in sculpted ice pools, below the temples’ spires, I am blessed beyond comparison. This day bearing copious gifts of beauty and wonder, of youthful, vibrant, glowing femininity, soft, fair and strong. Of the little Hermit Thrush’s serenade, resonant music to my soul, with purposeful glances directed at my presence, and display of proximal trust. A full revolution, an axial spin and dance through space, our Fatherly Sun again brings warm tones of light to the smoothed fields of snow and the towering cathedrals of rock. I am divinely guided to this Earthly Heaven, universally supported with abundance, wholly protected in certain safety, and supremely blessed with eternal moments of spirited bliss. My journey of mind, body and soul expands a consciousness of love and peace, absorbing with humble gratitude this pure, majestic environment before me…
June 6, Saturday Evening
A luxury, in these very fast and modern days, is to pass several turns of our globe while remaining in one place with so grand a view, that the passage of light and shadow across the colossal stage of icy domain, sustains interest in each moment. I am actively spectating, with solemn, reverent attention to motion, and stillness, and patterns. Thundering waterfalls and gushing rivers are the fast motions of energy released, while the stoic stillness of billions of tons of serpentine ice slowly carves a canyon, grain by grain. Massive spires, sentinels and towering ridgeline buttresses, dark and set apart from the snowy whiteness, embody stillness, acceptance and grace. Patterns reveal timeless presence as morning dawn brings light chasing shadows, ‘till evening when they reclaim their night domain. Laughter springs forth from my gut, as does the songbirds song, luxuriously happy to be alive amidst such immense beauty…
June 7, Sunday Night
The low clear light of dawn sun, peering over a jagged ridge, illuminated the crystalline ice flow with shimmering diamonds and iridescent blues. As if entering sacred foreign land, I slowly descended the rocky stairway of glacial scarred slabs, and approached the frozen mass on this sublime and holy Sunday morning. Delicately, my first steps on crunchy and vocal ice, I followed a small fissure as traction amidst none, leading further from earth, and nearer to peril. Wishing for my mountain axe and crampons only made it more frightening, and inspiring, dreaming of returning to explore deeper into the mystery. Later, a thumb and a smile brought two native souls to transport me to town, Hawaiian man, and Tlingit woman, travelers of time and space, delivering to me guidance, support, protection and blessings…
June 8, Monday Evening
Slipping out of Thane Campground with the 5 dollar fee still in my pocket, I took to the asphalt ribbon of a mile or so into the comparatively urban jungle, which had a somewhat subdued air of preparation and anticipation for the human flood soon to come. Disproportionate to the towns’ size, behemoth ships line up to wait for docking, and then when tied to the wharfs, the torrent is released, filling the downtown area like a tidal surge. Showered, shaved, and clothes washed, I weaved through town to complete a few errands then bussed the 14 miles back to the valley of Mendenhall, to hunt and gather among the aisles of Safeway. No wonder the world of Man continues its’ chaotic trend, for in the little eating area with tables and chairs, a TV blasted out evening news of increased body counts, blossoming wars, political debauchery, inhumane humans, and a general stupefying feeling that there is little left to find redeeming about civilization. Yet now I sit by the edge of glacial silt laden water, within faint ear shot of humanity, serenely comforted by all that is natural and timeless…
June 9, Tuesday Evening
My cozy and simple campsite, bivouacked on the sand bar with Alder trees and gnats as neighbors provided sound, restful sleep. I walked towards the mountains following Montana Creek flowing towards me through dense and quiet Spruce forest, appreciating the absence of people and conversation. Listening instead to the primal messages communicated without words. Ambulating along trail then road for several miles, I arrived at the ferry terminal one full week since coming ashore to Juneau. Now the M/V Malaspina plies the water of Lynn Canal towards Skagway under a grey ceiling resting on the snow covered mountain peaks. Waterfalls, avalanche chutes, snow fields and more massive twisting glaciers mark the subdued scenery off port and starboard sides, while the steady rumbling engines churn water off the stern. End of the line for Inside Passage travel, I will soak in the southeast Alaska vibe while camped around Skagway, fondly holding these ferry ships and calm water traveling for memories and inspiration to return for continued exploration even more intimately…
June 10, Wednesday Evening
Disembarking from the Malaspina just before 10pm, I walked in bright twilight to Yakatunia Point just across the bay, and was delighted to find a sweet granite perch nestled amongst stunted pines, with a vertical drop of 40 feet to a little cove below. The relatively dry climate here, compared to other parts of the Inside Passage, and coupled with the white granite exposed in areas, is reminiscent of the High Sierra range, though towering summits over deep water fjords sets it distinctly apart. This little town of less than 1000 residents, clinging to its’ identity as a gold rush boomtown of 1898, overflows with many thousands of cruise ship tourists every day from May through September. With 4 ships in this morning, I swam amidst the hordes, lingering, gawking, shopping and generally clogging up every corner of the main street. With so much frenzy about, I quickly finished my town survey and headed for the hills. A trail to Lower Dewey Lake began with several groups of tourists until it split off to Sturgills’ Landing trail, which descends through timbered slopes much drier than expected, but quiet and open with little undergrowth. Every so often, a pair or more of touring helicopters flew overhead making their obnoxious and incongruent racket, clearly signaling mankind’s tendencies towards anything but a humble and minimal presence on this planet. The trail led down to waters edge on a rocky granite shore with piles of driftwood logs and milled beams indicating the old mill at this site from years past. The out flow of Dewey Lake tumbles over boulders to join the sea, making a delightful steady noise of happily flowing water to drown the occasional helicopters cruising above. Remnants of a little shelter made from wood slabs, stones, and branches of the Spruce tree, 10 feet or so away from a rib of granite jutting straight up, looked enticing to renovate for my camp. So now I have a very cozy shelter from the cooling breeze and spattering rain, with tent tucked under branches, a cooking area, sitting rock and table, plus a small fire pit. The beautiful noise of churning, tumbling torrent at camp side to lull me to sleep, soothing any feathers ruffled from mans’ intrusions. Serenely grateful for my body’s guidance from Spirit to this place to call home, while supported, protected, and always blessed…
June 11, Thursday Evening
A blissfully rare day of stillness, solitude, peace and rejuvenation from my willingly self-imposed day of reclusivity. No people on this rocky little cove to entice speech of any sort, my words uttered today were only brief acknowledgements to the stream, trees, rocks, and a Stellars Jay who came to visit me in camp. Time spent sitting in meditation, hardly bothered even by passing boats or helicopters, unconsciously drifting into the void. The sounds of wind through trees, or water aerating over rocks providing focus to return from a wandering mind, and the warmth of Sun to comfort my stillness. With eyes open, I silently observe shadows moving over the snow fields and ice cornice on the mountain before me, the ever changing light curtained from clouds adrift above. Intricate patterns of dark, bare rock as islands in the sea of snow, illuminated with slow passing, soft edged spots gracing the stage. The tide line rises, then recedes again, ten feet or so of elevation difference, moved by pull from Sun and Moon, timelessly undulating as this planets’ fluid breath, while this one, of countless arteries, excitedly rushes and reaches a little further, to greet its’ Mother source of oceanic vastness. This scale so immense, the movement of ages so slow, it appears the stone monoliths are unchanging to our eyes, yet ceaselessly, transformation is underway, and in a distant age glaciers will again fill these valleys, and cover mountain tops, and sculpt the Earth…
June 12, Friday Evening
Hidden away at Smugglers’ Cove, and gratefully appreciative for this shelter from the south wind, while cozyed up to a crackling fire in the pit, next to a picnic table, under a roof. Luxury I say, pure luxury… The journey unfolds divinely under direction of supreme Spirit, while I go along bodily under no protest, with no agenda or schedule. My purpose and direction revealed to me as each moment becomes manifest, the story written on the fly, orchestrated within the infinite. Guided as I am, there is no worry, there is no time, there is nothing for me to do other than just be. Flowing from now to now, always here where I am, and supported by others, materializing with mysterious precision. All characters in this grand play of dreamy consciousness. With so much time to be silent, speaking mostly only briefly to passers by on trail, or street, or store, I live these days from within the observer, viewing all as a magical performance, a dance of the divine. I see myself as a reflection in a window, or as an image of self-portrait in my little camera, and I see some people look at my pack and walking stick. It is all reflected light, the illusion of substance, the dreamer of dreams, the cosmic consciousness at play…
June 13, Saturday Evening
Sitting comfortably as I am on a bank of the Taiya Rivers’ lowest reach, before meeting the head of Lynn Canal and just downstream from the historic town site of Dyea, I could hardly muster an objection to a few more days in the area while some mail catches up with me. A short walk and first vehicle I poked my thumb at delivered me here, 9+ miles from Skagway, at the town which died after completion of the White Pass Railway to the Yukon in 1900. The 100 years since has allowed Nature to replace trees for buildings and people, a rather noble transition many other towns could emulate. Happily alone, amongst young Spruce and Cottonwoods on this flood plain delta, the long, wide valley which holds the Chilkoot trail offers a tranquility and spaciousness well suited for my own treasures to be mined from this ongoing adventure. Though accordingly far less arduous then the Klondike Stampeders’, as my gold shines freely from the Sun, and my wealth is measured in peacefulness of mind, body, and spirit. Riches of solitude amidst vast scenes of natural grandeur will be mined moment by moment, filling my soul with eternal wealth…
June 14, Sunday Evening
The unseen presence made known and detectable by leafed limbs undulating and whispering, lifeless dry grass and leaves made animate for a spell while Wind Spirit is alive. Young, firm and compact, the Spruce on this once flooded plain move their needled arms about, happily waving with sturdy flexibility, acknowledging the gift of a cool breeze. Suspended, accumulated moisture, attached to mountaintops, is pulled away and dissipated, revealing clear blue sky and the Suns’ warming grace. The high peaks and upper Taiya Valley, enshrouded by misty, grey and moody weather this morning, now are exposed, enlightened and inviting by the low evening light, beckoning my further travels north and away from the coastal domain. A group of spry and lively Cottonwoods shelters my camp from sea breeze coming from the south up the Lynn Canal, which here I am at the very place 100 years ago, would be inundated twice a day from incoming tide, now elevating still from the ancient retreat of glacial pressure and giving firm purchase for an advancing forest. Our human mark upon this Earth, while no doubt a worthy attempt at dominion, is but a fleeting superficial wound of the flesh on Mother Earth…
When You Can Wait ‘Till Now?!
A Journal from Alaska
By: Tim Middleton
May 21, 2009 Thursday Sunset
A clear sunrise this morning marked the beginning of a new adventure, or rather the continuation of one in mind, body, and soul for my last 30 years. When I saw the shoreline of Port Townsend drifting further away, I knew this had actually begun. Now, I watch the sunset on the still and cloudless horizon from Marine Park near the ferry terminal in Fairhaven. Golden light shimmers on the blessed waters which will float the vessel tomorrow, north to Alaska. I am in the flow of Spirit, guided, supported, protected, and blessed…
May 22, Friday Sunset
The physical journey has now begun! My vessel afloat is the M/V Columbia, strong and sleek, she carries many who venture north along the Inside Passage. A very diverse bunch indeed, yet those of us walk on passengers not wanting the expense and seclusion of a bunk opt for the outside deck areas to commune. Some tents are set up on the uncovered portion, but under the “Solarium” many occupy lounge chairs for sleeping and protection from the elements. As I sit here now with calm waters, clear skies and luxurious comfort under the heaters, with fresh air and expansive views, I feel the sweet reward of divine blessing in this first leg to Ketchikan. The journey to Alaska has just begun!
May 23, Saturday Night
Had a few beers at the bar with my friend Toddy from New Zealand, talking with him and others on this voyage, all with different stories, life experiences and reasons for being on their journey. I have no job to go to, no family here, no agenda to fulfill and not running away from anything. My journey is simple really, to be consciously aware of my spirit journey within this physical body. Carrying supplies on my back, I will walk to where I go. The seeker on a path of infinite exploration from place to place, moment to moment, living in the eternal transitional now, freely flowing into the void of space…
May 24, Sunday Night
The Sun’s first light greeted my sleepy eyes as I looked through the starboard window. Calm water and weather again, with a few thin clouds to dramatize the orange and blue morning, we smoothly made port in Ketchikan at 7:30am. Alone, I walked into this dream of my first steps on Alaska land down the gritty sidewalk into town. Several Bald Eagles were in the marina, two of which were munching on a morning catch I presume, while standing on the exposed mud flat. With very little flat land for the humans, houses of colorful, ragtag varieties occupied the steep hillsides reached by zigzag stairways in some places. Walking further to the familiar sign of a Safeway market, I noticed my attention seeing all the cars’ license plates as Alaskan, which is often the case when in a new state or country. Walking into the cruise ship port area, through the pods of just arrived tourists, I chuckled to myself at the obvious contrast in our mode of travel. My backpack fully loaded to 50 pounds and above my head, was miniscule beneath the three towering ships docked to allow several thousand people to wander and shop. Though laden with this weight, I felt light and free, walking briskly past the lumbering tourists. Upon reaching my trailhead to Deer Mountain, I entered humbly into the forest. After two hours of steep, well maintained trail, some patches of snow crunched underfoot. Walking on higher, I now sit cozily in my tent on a snow covered mountainside overlooking the busy port town. I will sleep now for the first night, of many yet to come, in Alaska…
May 25, Monday Evening
Guided, supported, protected, and blessed. In all ways of my life I know this to be truth. Awakening this morning, snuggly warm within my shelter, the foggy drizzle enshrouding the mountain domain, I felt safe and comforted. Walking down the trail from whence I came, there was no disappointment in the change from earlier thoughts of an 11 mile, 3 night loop. First thing on the agenda… Dispense with the agenda! Returning to town, I went south for 2 ½ miles to Saxman Totem Park. Woody, the Native gatekeeper, gifted me with kindness and directions to a safe, free camp spot where I now lay. The little island of hill and trees gives me shelter, privacy and waterfront view where boats and ships pass, to and from town. The tide ebbs and flows at my feet…
May 26, Tuesday Evening
Walking many miles yesterday from mountain to sea, then today to Perseverance Lake, it totals around 15. Though the up hills are a bit tougher, I feel strong and light footed. Flowing in timelessness, the events roll on with synchronicity… From mornings’ awakening in bivy shelter to spread out breakfast luxury on picnic table under cover, then to shopping mall for warm and dry Taco Time brunch, while rain pours down outside. As if on queue, the rain stopped when I was ready to walk. Then, on finding internet access unexpectedly in the ferry terminal, and on waiting only minutes for the bus across the street. An earlier impulse to call Totem Bight State Park revealed no camping when the book had indicated so… So now I sit snuggly warm in tent again, atop a raised platform overlooking Perseverance Lake. Supreme beauty of all things in the flow, as is my blessed journey…
May 27, Wednesday Evening
Alone with myself and no other humans, accompanied only by trees, plants, mountains, lake, birdsong, spattering rain, distant waterfalls, wind, and all that is primal. My voice is not needed, no one to talk to and so much to hear. The echoing calls of a lone Raven, or haunting Hermit Trush, or others winged and wild. True “white noise” from cascading, tumbling, frothy streams descending as melted snow, the waves of sound flowing atop the depths of stilled water nestled in this ancient valley. I live here for a day or two, as a guest, humbled by majestic eons of timelessness, amidst rhythms of natural process, ongoing, cyclic, earthly and cosmic. Sheltered and warmed by nylon, fed by imported nutrition, my existence is artificial by design. Not a day would I live, or a night survive, as do the other animals who call this home. The Wolf, the Bear, the winged and the furred, each independent, each integral to the whole, sustained by instinct, carried by generations countless back in time, and my primitive soul is stirred…
May 28, Thursday Evening
The busy and cluttered waterfront of Ketchikan fades into the grey mist as the M/V Taku pulls away from the docks. With one last visit to town and the boarding of this vessel, I completed one chapter and begin yet another on this voyage to Wrangell. Waking this morning to blue skies, to pleasantly pack away a dry tent and walk out in warmth, then a quick visit to Totem Bight State Park, now all is again grey, drizzly southeast Alaskan weather. Still, I am comfortable under the solarium with a view to the stern and only one other on this deck with me, reclined in relative luxury. Absent is the communal spirit from the first voyage, and with only 6 hours ahead the time will pass with dinner, a shower and a brief rest. Then a midnights’ walk of a mile to City Park where I should find suitable space for my tent to slumber into the dawn…
May 29, Friday Mid-day
A gentle rain welcomed me to the empty streets of Wrangell, as I walked alone with Spirit to guide me towards my camp. In the darkness I found the park and unexpected shelter over two picnic tables, one of which I chose as my bed. Only minutes after arriving, I heard the ships horn signal its’ departure, and my slumber began with warmth, dryness, and recognition of support from Spirit. Grey morning with steady rain and a beautiful shoreline view across to misty islands, surrounded here by lush forest and swift little stream behind me, where I dip my pot for heated water, to hydrate my food, and warm my inner body. An added bonus of a fire pit and scraps of dry wood give me a comforting fire to warm my hands and soul. Bald Eagles, young and mature, play on the wing or sit still on perch of old pylon, branch or rocky shore. Their squeaky call now familiar, I recognize their prominent presence. Today I rest, no need to walk anywhere, content to just be, a silent observer of motion and stillness…
May 30, Saturday Evening
A touch of the human drama has for a short time entered the story from the befriending of Tom and Deborah, actually, more they to me, yet I have willingly accepted the time of conversation yesterday, and today I ride with them to a campsite at Lower Salamander Creek where we are sharing company. So quickly I see how certain socializing is easy to sway one from the calm, quiet simplicity of being alone. Though some intellectually thought stimulating dialog has surfaced, I find the weaknesses of human nature soon spoil the desire for continued interaction. People are people, and I the same with traits of my own, and though not of a judgmental position, but I would just as soon remain aloof to commune with the furred and feathered, the flowing and growing of stream and tree. A human I am indeed, answering my own call from the wild, from here on Earth, as well as from deep in the great cosmos…
May 31, Sunday Evening
A bright blue sky above and the Suns’ first light, low through the young uncurling ferns greeted my smiling face at mornings’ awakening. Later, the curt chatter and subtle bickering between Tom and Deborah brought opportunity for gratitude of the opposite to peacefulness, which is otherwise the norm. Soon enough, we parted and I walked through town with its’ quiet Sunday streets and closed shops, to my place of quietude at Petroglyph Beach. Where the Ancients sat, when no motor boats roared past to disturb natural sounds, I have been at rest recalling the peace within. Cover to cover, I read without interruption “The Call of the Wild” for a second time, bringing forth in me the primitive stirrings. On this little sandy beach, with a musical stream to my side and an exceptionally warm, clear day to strip me of all but pants, I absorb the primal peace. I will sleep with the stars as the Sun is hidden again, and lulled to sleep by gentle sounds of water flowing to sea…
June 1, Monday Night
Arising early at the break of day, 5:30 am at least, though the sky was light much earlier, a quick breakfast and walk through town to wait for grocery shopping at 8am. Passing time with a stroll to Chief Shakes Island, I was gifted with a nice Eagle feather that I accepted as a sweet surprise in my path. Now with Raven and Eagle medicine on my pack, there is a feeling of acceptance of my entering. Aboard the Taku once more, with many under the solarium, we pulled away from Wrangell on a particularly warm day. Sunning on deck, shirtless and sweating, it seemed incongruent with the snowy peaks and spilling glaciers in view. Now as the midnight twilight casts a hue of blue on sky reflected water, with but only a few twinkling heavenly bodies, we turn and sway towards dawn in Sitka, under the steady vibrating pulse of engine, and bright shining moon…
June 2, Tuesday Night
The Taku was at rest for a few hours while docked at Sitka as were all the slumbering passengers. Underway at 6am in remarkably calm, clear conditions. The day was spent lapsing in and out of delirious rest, then reading and lounging in the warmth, while endless scenes of snow capped peaks, forested mountains, intriguing islands, and an occasional whale passed by. Having made friends with two young travelers, Cass and Sandy, a Canadian and a Brit, the connection was made to share a taxi from the ferry in Juneau to our camp now at Mendenhall Glacier Lake. The snow covered and jagged peaks arise directly behind this massive moving river of ancient ice, with a huge face of bluish-white blocks looming just above the lake. I am in awe and happily amazed to be here now after 30 years of desire, and also grateful to have a good vibe to share with traveling friends.
June 3, Wednesday Night
What a glorious sight of morning light on lake, glacier, snow, mountain, and trees! A fine meditation while seated in front of such magnificence, fully warmed under beaming Sun and clear blue sky. Humbled again, yet a part of it all, like one speck of glacial silt flowing down stream from its’ recent release of icy purpose, I too join the journey of transformation, released to play in the flow of life… These travels in Alaska, 130 years since John Muir roamed the southeast’s treasures, I now absorb, and confirm an old souls desire to contemplate this glacier filled land. Cass, Sandy and I walked and bussed along the 14 mile route to downtown Juneau for a taste of the local urbanity, and with 5 cruise ships in port the streets were humming. Internet, lunch, and groceries for backpacking was my 21st century version of preparation to hit the trail. The jovial energy was fruitful to bring about abundance of experiential treats!
June 4, Thursday Night
Though my watch indicates after 10pm, the sky is illuminated colorfully and bright. Such as my perch for camp is, high above the massive Mendenhall glacier, surrounded by towering summits of rock and snow, my significance is but a speck amidst this Earthly Mother, birthing pure grandeur. The immensity and epic timelessness is cosmically divine, and truly staggering to behold! John Muir’s words ring out true, that this is God’s finest work of sculpting force, and no mans’ words could tell of a finer example of the Supreme Being. My home of nylon on this ledge is a vantage like no other and spectacular photographs come from a simple composition, and push of the button. Plays of light in shades of aqua blue, dance in the river of ice, while torrents fall freely, fiercely and thunderously over the precipice, accelerated with new found energy, while buildings of sculpted ice topple forward and down towards the sea…
June 5, Friday Evening
Ceremoniously sacred and high, above turquoise tarns nestled in sculpted ice pools, below the temples’ spires, I am blessed beyond comparison. This day bearing copious gifts of beauty and wonder, of youthful, vibrant, glowing femininity, soft, fair and strong. Of the little Hermit Thrush’s serenade, resonant music to my soul, with purposeful glances directed at my presence, and display of proximal trust. A full revolution, an axial spin and dance through space, our Fatherly Sun again brings warm tones of light to the smoothed fields of snow and the towering cathedrals of rock. I am divinely guided to this Earthly Heaven, universally supported with abundance, wholly protected in certain safety, and supremely blessed with eternal moments of spirited bliss. My journey of mind, body and soul expands a consciousness of love and peace, absorbing with humble gratitude this pure, majestic environment before me…
June 6, Saturday Evening
A luxury, in these very fast and modern days, is to pass several turns of our globe while remaining in one place with so grand a view, that the passage of light and shadow across the colossal stage of icy domain, sustains interest in each moment. I am actively spectating, with solemn, reverent attention to motion, and stillness, and patterns. Thundering waterfalls and gushing rivers are the fast motions of energy released, while the stoic stillness of billions of tons of serpentine ice slowly carves a canyon, grain by grain. Massive spires, sentinels and towering ridgeline buttresses, dark and set apart from the snowy whiteness, embody stillness, acceptance and grace. Patterns reveal timeless presence as morning dawn brings light chasing shadows, ‘till evening when they reclaim their night domain. Laughter springs forth from my gut, as does the songbirds song, luxuriously happy to be alive amidst such immense beauty…
June 7, Sunday Night
The low clear light of dawn sun, peering over a jagged ridge, illuminated the crystalline ice flow with shimmering diamonds and iridescent blues. As if entering sacred foreign land, I slowly descended the rocky stairway of glacial scarred slabs, and approached the frozen mass on this sublime and holy Sunday morning. Delicately, my first steps on crunchy and vocal ice, I followed a small fissure as traction amidst none, leading further from earth, and nearer to peril. Wishing for my mountain axe and crampons only made it more frightening, and inspiring, dreaming of returning to explore deeper into the mystery. Later, a thumb and a smile brought two native souls to transport me to town, Hawaiian man, and Tlingit woman, travelers of time and space, delivering to me guidance, support, protection and blessings…
June 8, Monday Evening
Slipping out of Thane Campground with the 5 dollar fee still in my pocket, I took to the asphalt ribbon of a mile or so into the comparatively urban jungle, which had a somewhat subdued air of preparation and anticipation for the human flood soon to come. Disproportionate to the towns’ size, behemoth ships line up to wait for docking, and then when tied to the wharfs, the torrent is released, filling the downtown area like a tidal surge. Showered, shaved, and clothes washed, I weaved through town to complete a few errands then bussed the 14 miles back to the valley of Mendenhall, to hunt and gather among the aisles of Safeway. No wonder the world of Man continues its’ chaotic trend, for in the little eating area with tables and chairs, a TV blasted out evening news of increased body counts, blossoming wars, political debauchery, inhumane humans, and a general stupefying feeling that there is little left to find redeeming about civilization. Yet now I sit by the edge of glacial silt laden water, within faint ear shot of humanity, serenely comforted by all that is natural and timeless…
June 9, Tuesday Evening
My cozy and simple campsite, bivouacked on the sand bar with Alder trees and gnats as neighbors provided sound, restful sleep. I walked towards the mountains following Montana Creek flowing towards me through dense and quiet Spruce forest, appreciating the absence of people and conversation. Listening instead to the primal messages communicated without words. Ambulating along trail then road for several miles, I arrived at the ferry terminal one full week since coming ashore to Juneau. Now the M/V Malaspina plies the water of Lynn Canal towards Skagway under a grey ceiling resting on the snow covered mountain peaks. Waterfalls, avalanche chutes, snow fields and more massive twisting glaciers mark the subdued scenery off port and starboard sides, while the steady rumbling engines churn water off the stern. End of the line for Inside Passage travel, I will soak in the southeast Alaska vibe while camped around Skagway, fondly holding these ferry ships and calm water traveling for memories and inspiration to return for continued exploration even more intimately…
June 10, Wednesday Evening
Disembarking from the Malaspina just before 10pm, I walked in bright twilight to Yakatunia Point just across the bay, and was delighted to find a sweet granite perch nestled amongst stunted pines, with a vertical drop of 40 feet to a little cove below. The relatively dry climate here, compared to other parts of the Inside Passage, and coupled with the white granite exposed in areas, is reminiscent of the High Sierra range, though towering summits over deep water fjords sets it distinctly apart. This little town of less than 1000 residents, clinging to its’ identity as a gold rush boomtown of 1898, overflows with many thousands of cruise ship tourists every day from May through September. With 4 ships in this morning, I swam amidst the hordes, lingering, gawking, shopping and generally clogging up every corner of the main street. With so much frenzy about, I quickly finished my town survey and headed for the hills. A trail to Lower Dewey Lake began with several groups of tourists until it split off to Sturgills’ Landing trail, which descends through timbered slopes much drier than expected, but quiet and open with little undergrowth. Every so often, a pair or more of touring helicopters flew overhead making their obnoxious and incongruent racket, clearly signaling mankind’s tendencies towards anything but a humble and minimal presence on this planet. The trail led down to waters edge on a rocky granite shore with piles of driftwood logs and milled beams indicating the old mill at this site from years past. The out flow of Dewey Lake tumbles over boulders to join the sea, making a delightful steady noise of happily flowing water to drown the occasional helicopters cruising above. Remnants of a little shelter made from wood slabs, stones, and branches of the Spruce tree, 10 feet or so away from a rib of granite jutting straight up, looked enticing to renovate for my camp. So now I have a very cozy shelter from the cooling breeze and spattering rain, with tent tucked under branches, a cooking area, sitting rock and table, plus a small fire pit. The beautiful noise of churning, tumbling torrent at camp side to lull me to sleep, soothing any feathers ruffled from mans’ intrusions. Serenely grateful for my body’s guidance from Spirit to this place to call home, while supported, protected, and always blessed…
June 11, Thursday Evening
A blissfully rare day of stillness, solitude, peace and rejuvenation from my willingly self-imposed day of reclusivity. No people on this rocky little cove to entice speech of any sort, my words uttered today were only brief acknowledgements to the stream, trees, rocks, and a Stellars Jay who came to visit me in camp. Time spent sitting in meditation, hardly bothered even by passing boats or helicopters, unconsciously drifting into the void. The sounds of wind through trees, or water aerating over rocks providing focus to return from a wandering mind, and the warmth of Sun to comfort my stillness. With eyes open, I silently observe shadows moving over the snow fields and ice cornice on the mountain before me, the ever changing light curtained from clouds adrift above. Intricate patterns of dark, bare rock as islands in the sea of snow, illuminated with slow passing, soft edged spots gracing the stage. The tide line rises, then recedes again, ten feet or so of elevation difference, moved by pull from Sun and Moon, timelessly undulating as this planets’ fluid breath, while this one, of countless arteries, excitedly rushes and reaches a little further, to greet its’ Mother source of oceanic vastness. This scale so immense, the movement of ages so slow, it appears the stone monoliths are unchanging to our eyes, yet ceaselessly, transformation is underway, and in a distant age glaciers will again fill these valleys, and cover mountain tops, and sculpt the Earth…
June 12, Friday Evening
Hidden away at Smugglers’ Cove, and gratefully appreciative for this shelter from the south wind, while cozyed up to a crackling fire in the pit, next to a picnic table, under a roof. Luxury I say, pure luxury… The journey unfolds divinely under direction of supreme Spirit, while I go along bodily under no protest, with no agenda or schedule. My purpose and direction revealed to me as each moment becomes manifest, the story written on the fly, orchestrated within the infinite. Guided as I am, there is no worry, there is no time, there is nothing for me to do other than just be. Flowing from now to now, always here where I am, and supported by others, materializing with mysterious precision. All characters in this grand play of dreamy consciousness. With so much time to be silent, speaking mostly only briefly to passers by on trail, or street, or store, I live these days from within the observer, viewing all as a magical performance, a dance of the divine. I see myself as a reflection in a window, or as an image of self-portrait in my little camera, and I see some people look at my pack and walking stick. It is all reflected light, the illusion of substance, the dreamer of dreams, the cosmic consciousness at play…
June 13, Saturday Evening
Sitting comfortably as I am on a bank of the Taiya Rivers’ lowest reach, before meeting the head of Lynn Canal and just downstream from the historic town site of Dyea, I could hardly muster an objection to a few more days in the area while some mail catches up with me. A short walk and first vehicle I poked my thumb at delivered me here, 9+ miles from Skagway, at the town which died after completion of the White Pass Railway to the Yukon in 1900. The 100 years since has allowed Nature to replace trees for buildings and people, a rather noble transition many other towns could emulate. Happily alone, amongst young Spruce and Cottonwoods on this flood plain delta, the long, wide valley which holds the Chilkoot trail offers a tranquility and spaciousness well suited for my own treasures to be mined from this ongoing adventure. Though accordingly far less arduous then the Klondike Stampeders’, as my gold shines freely from the Sun, and my wealth is measured in peacefulness of mind, body, and spirit. Riches of solitude amidst vast scenes of natural grandeur will be mined moment by moment, filling my soul with eternal wealth…
June 14, Sunday Evening
The unseen presence made known and detectable by leafed limbs undulating and whispering, lifeless dry grass and leaves made animate for a spell while Wind Spirit is alive. Young, firm and compact, the Spruce on this once flooded plain move their needled arms about, happily waving with sturdy flexibility, acknowledging the gift of a cool breeze. Suspended, accumulated moisture, attached to mountaintops, is pulled away and dissipated, revealing clear blue sky and the Suns’ warming grace. The high peaks and upper Taiya Valley, enshrouded by misty, grey and moody weather this morning, now are exposed, enlightened and inviting by the low evening light, beckoning my further travels north and away from the coastal domain. A group of spry and lively Cottonwoods shelters my camp from sea breeze coming from the south up the Lynn Canal, which here I am at the very place 100 years ago, would be inundated twice a day from incoming tide, now elevating still from the ancient retreat of glacial pressure and giving firm purchase for an advancing forest. Our human mark upon this Earth, while no doubt a worthy attempt at dominion, is but a fleeting superficial wound of the flesh on Mother Earth…
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
The Journey Continues...
To whom is it I write these words?
Echoing in my head... Cast out into the Void... To the Everything... For some distant reader... Invoking precious thought, causing birds to flight, as seen through a rain spattered window.
Thoughts translated by a man using symbols evolved from etchings in stone. The infantile steps, attempting to communicate with the outside... To the birds flying past his cave...
What could I write that would stir a moment to the soul behind the eyes? It is but a remembering... A vision of flight from the windows of my mind...
Like the great explorers before us, who went into uncharted seas, we now become adventurers into a new age. Where the drive to live is based on Peace, Love and Joy.
Who will be so daring to leave the pre-existing comforts of slavery to a system of power, money and greed?
Who will untie from the dock and set a course for harmony with all life?
Individually, we embark together on this journey to the once known and soon remembered...
T
Echoing in my head... Cast out into the Void... To the Everything... For some distant reader... Invoking precious thought, causing birds to flight, as seen through a rain spattered window.
Thoughts translated by a man using symbols evolved from etchings in stone. The infantile steps, attempting to communicate with the outside... To the birds flying past his cave...
What could I write that would stir a moment to the soul behind the eyes? It is but a remembering... A vision of flight from the windows of my mind...
Like the great explorers before us, who went into uncharted seas, we now become adventurers into a new age. Where the drive to live is based on Peace, Love and Joy.
Who will be so daring to leave the pre-existing comforts of slavery to a system of power, money and greed?
Who will untie from the dock and set a course for harmony with all life?
Individually, we embark together on this journey to the once known and soon remembered...
T
Monday, February 9, 2009
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Poetry
A weary soul
Pain tears at a
Fragile heart
Sadness overwhelms
A weary soul
What comes from this
Surely will be better
For through an opened heart
Love is free to flow
Copyright ©2005 Tim W. Middleton
Freedom
Fighting for Freedom
Warring for Peace
Struggling to Live
Searching for Love
or
Freedom from Fighting
Peace to the Warriors
Living without Struggle
Love is Ever-Present
Copyright ©2005 Tim W. Middleton
Arriving
Departing I am not
I've been arriving from the start
Adventure and challenge
I seek with a smile
The journey I embrace
With no final destination
A gypsy at heart
I have said of myself
A hunter and gatherer
Of knowledge and experience
There is no beginning or end
To the circle of life
Only markers
To indicate our place
The diversity of life
Is beyond our knowing
Our choice of paths
Is infinite indeed
Dwell not on the separation
But instead on our coming together
Copyright ©2005 Tim W. Middleton
Endless
Loss is mere illusion
Death only a fallacy
Meanings misconstrued from fear
That our own life will cease
Life cannot be contained
Being transitory by nature
Expansion creates separation
Maintaining perpetual connection
Distance from one
Brings closeness to another
Enhancing quality by diversity
Blending elements of growth
When primal fears surface
Stirred by emotional pains
Soothed souls are born
By the singing of one - song
A melodious uni – verse indeed
Punctuated by note less spaces
The tune is of endless love
Orchestrated by divine unity
Copyright ©2005 Tim W. Middleton
Stillness
Eyes softly closed
Warmth of light
Upon my face
Whispering wind
Stirs subtle motion
Butterfly takes flight
Delicate silence
Crystalline sound
Audible visions
Pulsing heart
Lifeblood flowing
Liquid love
Chest undulating
Peaceful exhales
Blissful breath
Questions answered
Stillness speaks
Tranquil wisdom
Copyright 2006 Tim W. Middleton
Pain tears at a
Fragile heart
Sadness overwhelms
A weary soul
What comes from this
Surely will be better
For through an opened heart
Love is free to flow
Copyright ©2005 Tim W. Middleton
Freedom
Fighting for Freedom
Warring for Peace
Struggling to Live
Searching for Love
or
Freedom from Fighting
Peace to the Warriors
Living without Struggle
Love is Ever-Present
Copyright ©2005 Tim W. Middleton
Arriving
Departing I am not
I've been arriving from the start
Adventure and challenge
I seek with a smile
The journey I embrace
With no final destination
A gypsy at heart
I have said of myself
A hunter and gatherer
Of knowledge and experience
There is no beginning or end
To the circle of life
Only markers
To indicate our place
The diversity of life
Is beyond our knowing
Our choice of paths
Is infinite indeed
Dwell not on the separation
But instead on our coming together
Copyright ©2005 Tim W. Middleton
Endless
Loss is mere illusion
Death only a fallacy
Meanings misconstrued from fear
That our own life will cease
Life cannot be contained
Being transitory by nature
Expansion creates separation
Maintaining perpetual connection
Distance from one
Brings closeness to another
Enhancing quality by diversity
Blending elements of growth
When primal fears surface
Stirred by emotional pains
Soothed souls are born
By the singing of one - song
A melodious uni – verse indeed
Punctuated by note less spaces
The tune is of endless love
Orchestrated by divine unity
Copyright ©2005 Tim W. Middleton
Stillness
Eyes softly closed
Warmth of light
Upon my face
Whispering wind
Stirs subtle motion
Butterfly takes flight
Delicate silence
Crystalline sound
Audible visions
Pulsing heart
Lifeblood flowing
Liquid love
Chest undulating
Peaceful exhales
Blissful breath
Questions answered
Stillness speaks
Tranquil wisdom
Copyright 2006 Tim W. Middleton
One Mans' Odyssey
It comes to you in the middle of the night, when you lay there awake, your mind running on incessantly... something has got to change... This powerful feeling is nebulous though. What needs to change, when and why, is unknown to you. It stirs deep in your soul, deep in your gut. You feel scared and excited at the same time, as if the river you are floating has a waterfall up ahead. You can feel the energy of it and you hear it's roar. What should you do... bail out, stay put, or paddle faster?
My story is of course particular to me, but I am certain there will be many of you who will identify with the subject as a whole and gain some insight to the life changes ocurring within you. As I recall the experiences of greatest change in my life, they were punctuated with pain, heartache and sorrow, however, all along there was a stirring in the recesses of my soul that told me I was doing what I must. I have learned and continue to learn a great deal from the difficult, yet insightful times of my life and it is my intention to share any possible wisdom gained from my experiences to help others find the gems of life which contain the seeds of enlightenment.
Thank you for viewing this work in progress...
Tim
My story is of course particular to me, but I am certain there will be many of you who will identify with the subject as a whole and gain some insight to the life changes ocurring within you. As I recall the experiences of greatest change in my life, they were punctuated with pain, heartache and sorrow, however, all along there was a stirring in the recesses of my soul that told me I was doing what I must. I have learned and continue to learn a great deal from the difficult, yet insightful times of my life and it is my intention to share any possible wisdom gained from my experiences to help others find the gems of life which contain the seeds of enlightenment.
Thank you for viewing this work in progress...
Tim
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