Pilgrimage is a universal human experience. The pilgrim sets out on a journey to a place of spiritual significance, seeking forgiveness, enlightenment, healing, a new identity, etc. Curiously, these places are often associated with water.
On the morning of the first frost, I set out on a pilgrimage of sorts. In a gulch on Turkey Mountain there is a place I dub “Lynx Falls”. It’s a smoothed out slide of limestone that remains dry for most of the year, but after a series of rains, morphs into a beautiful cascade. With all the rain we've had lately, there was a slight chance that the falls would be active.
Alas, there was no running water that morning. Life questions remained unanswered for another day.
A typical pilgrim, I ran the trails with a lot on my mind; a lot of unanswered questions about the future. Perhaps things could be sorted out at the falls, I told myself.
Alas, there was no running water that morning. Life questions remained unanswered for another day.
And yet... the soft light captured in the hoar frost, the wispy vapor blanketing the ponds, and the crisp air provided a measure of solace.
Peace found on the journey. I suppose that’s all we can really ever ask for.
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