A Stolen Moment

 I know this means I'm a dork, but there's a place in the forest where I sometimes go to pray.  If you enter at the wrong spot, it can take an hour to get there.  But if you find the right entry point (which I finally did), it's only half-an-hour's trek into the woods.  Unless you ride a horse or a mountain bike, the only way is by foot.

 When I say that I "pray," I don't mean that I speak to some Imaginary Friend for Grownups.  I no longer think of God as a person with intentions and plans...aside from a general and all-embracing tendency toward healing and transformation that is always at work in the world.  Prayer, for me, is simply directing my thoughts and silences to the life of the world around me, embracing the profound Mystery, naming it, welcoming it into my consciousness.  This is who and what God is for me: Life, Love, Joy. 

There's precious little "virgin territory" left for me at Raccoon Creek, but I found some on my prayer trek.  The Appaloosa Spur Trail is mainly for equestrians, but it takes you from a small public road to the main "Raccoon Loop," which is the backpacking trail that encircles the entire park.  When it's dry--as it is these days--hikers can follow the horse trails, but when it's wet, keep away.  The hooves make all the "shared use" trails muddy and impassable.

The park is busy again with hikers, and campers, and picnickers, and swimmers.  It was strange to find so many people enjoying my solitary getaway--a place where I take refuge year-round--but I was glad for it.  At least I had this far-flung corner of the park to myself.  The old deer stand in this tree is surely leftover from the days when this part of the park was still private property.