trees and I ~ we understand one another without saying a word ~ photo by Jillian of the Noisy Plume
here in the tree it sings
it is a solitary bird, lifelong
full of water that falls
of crazy light that climbs
of gutteral crystal
of ceaseless trill
and the question sings
~pablo neruda ~
Every now and then I like to slip my feet into winged golden sandals for a little wondering and wandering road trip to spend some time with friends. So! I packed my car with champagne and books, chocolate and jam to drive up to the darling little town of Winthrop in the Methow Valley to meet with this beautiful friend and this dear one as well.
It was an exquisite drive through the Northern Cascade mountains winding along roads asweep with spectacular views of enchanted forests, glacial lakes and diamond waterfalls as well as cliffs dotted with magenta and emerald.
I fell under a spell on the pages of those winding rivers, the cathedral reach of the trees, the earth's fragrant body. Soaking up all the beauty of the universe.
I had to hold my breath for fear it might be all a dream.
Oh the freedom of water! Along the way I kept pulling over to follow feathers floating around glacial inlets dotted with eagles soaring overhead. The air was shining!
The solo drive helped me come back into rhythm with myself and all questions seemed to tumble off cliffs the higher I climbed. (Something about that tree in the sway of the current made me hold my head up higher.)
Within hours I was ensconsed in a cabin with my friends and a pack of delightful dogs overlooking a particularly sovereign sweep of mountain range.
Everything dazzled me. I felt like a child of the mountain and the moon.
Before me was but one path.
Waste was left behind. (osmosis)
Rising, rising up. Exhaling a canticle into the lyric of the wind.
My creative threshold was set ablaze anew.
I could hear bells in my sleep, gently sonorous, and the sun rose on a new frontier each day.
Seeds were scattering everywhere.
Leslie poured magical concoctions for us with a mysterious mixture of cucumber and gin and Jillian's husband whipped up a platter of brownies to go with them by the evening campfire.
We took turns cooking for one another.
I snapped a few photo's.
This one is my favorite and truly captures the soul of the Northern Cascades come evening. And the light that is the inimitable essence of Jillian.
The heart of the matter is friendship is amazingly, wonderfully mysterious and I love how it rows me away from small melancholies with a dazzling measure of self forgetting.
Friends are worth fighting for. It is inevitable that we will let one another down along the way at some point or other as we are all human and vastly complex and growing our souls as best we can. Perhaps it is best to go into the friendship leaving room for your kindreds to be human and feel safe that they will also leave room for you to be also a soul 'in the making.'
On this trip I made a vow to myself to be a better friend and show up unconditionally with a brave and good heart for my friends ~ to give space for them to blossom and encourage them to reach for the highest manifestation of their soul's being in the process.
To encourage myself to be vulnerable and open and patient, kind and true. To look inwardly and self correct better along the way as I know myself better.
To trust my heart. To ever reach for forgiveness.
I felt beautiful making this vow of love for friendship and so thankful that I have friends to cast vows for that will expand every molecule of my being and teach me how to love ever better and counter any distance. This is the cape of my spirit.
Oh, and we made necklaces together inspired by Leslie Sophia's seedbead strands. I ribboned mine with midnight black beads pulsed with vintage branch coral, shell and rubies. Jillian's necklace was the color of Indian popsicles and Leslie spun one like the swish of organza skirts doing a tango.
and then finally
there were goodbyes
till we meet again:)