This is the way to spend a Saturday morning - on a trail in the mountains, the caress of a breeze on your face, an overcast sky clearing to a vivid blue. And sweet, sweet silence. For a weekend, I'm surprised there are not more people here. I've only passes one other hiker and seen a couple of riders. Voices have echoed periodically, but other than that I could be alone up here. Which is just what I wanted.
Spoke too soon. A couple other hikers just appeared. And I think they want the bench I'm sitting on. Why should I feel guilty? No reason. I was here first. And yet I do.
Been listening to God here in the silence. Candice reminded me before I left how significant Colorado has been in my life. 'Twas ten years ago that God shook me from my path and set me on another. Nothing earth shaking this time. No grand revelations. No serendipitous epiphanies. No wisdom brought down from the mountain. Not that God hasn't been here - hard to miss his footprints and fingerprints in this place. I do feel more grounded, more balanced than when I started, though sleep still eludes me. This trip has been healing, which I definitely needed.
So why do I wish it had been more?
Ridiculous, really. Expecting lightning to strike twice? Madness. And let's be honest - a little harder now to start over than it was ten years ago. But there's that fear of growing stagnant, complacent, seeking comfort more than adventure - or worse, comfort more than God's will. Yet I suppose still listening, still seeking what lies over the next mountain demonstrates a willingness to be surprised - and that alone should keep me from being too complacent.
I could stay here all day, but I should be headed back. We're off to Boulder tonight to see some Shakespeare - The Scottish Play, methinks. Been a while since I've seen it performed in its entirety. Here's hoping it's a good production. Æ
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