This is a glimpse along the road to the Monastery in Abiquiu, New Mexico. Thirteen miles off the highway is Christ in the Desert where an order of Benedictine Monks have lived and worked for over fifty years.
It is in the midst of this wild landscape that I, along with my dog Jethro, were lost last November, only to be found by Search and Rescue 36 hours later. Without food, water or adequate clothing, we were ill prepared for our fate yet never did a moment of fear or worry descend. A deep sense of protection from the Spirits of the Holy Mountains kept us safe, as day turned to night and back again.
I continue to return here, called by wide open trails as ravens caw in circles over my head. Wild birds sing melodies I have never heard before. I barely see a soul on this early morning run. My dog Jethro sits at home, spared from the dry desert heat.
I am alone in this untamed wilderness. How have I been graced to be deep in communion with a place of such profound beauty on Earth? A reverence for this land that kept us free from harm seeps into my bones.
I know my time here, like everything else, will come to an end. Everything and everyone that is a part of my life will eventually be lost to me. Just as the morning has already passed as I sit here writing, all that I know will perish from my life with time.
Each breath reminds me I am alone. As I imagine my life without anyone I know to cling to, I am left with nothing other than an inward eye to rely on.
In this solo reverie with the undomesticated force of Nature, I am alone, yet also a part of, this untamed wildness.
I am the holy mountain.
I am the sacred land.
I am the bird song.
It is here, in my aloneness,
in a place once lost,
I come home to be found.
Terrific. A blessing to read.
BEAUTIFUL STORY WELL SAID . THANK YOU .