Red Rock Rising

by Wendy Lee

January 14, 2015

It’s cold out this morning, chillier than I expected.  I wish I would have packed my gloves.  I need to suck it up though.  I know in about an hour I will be pulling off the layers and complaining about the heat.  Such is life on a high desert hike in the middle of winter.

I like hiking at sunrise, there is something quite mystical about it.  Plus, truth be known, I really don’t care for the crowds, especially the tourists.  I should be nicer about this point, but I am not.  Tourists drive this local economy and I fully recognize that.  That isn’t really the problem.  The problem is that the tourists don’t seem to understand my spiritual connection with nature and the beauty of the red rock formations.  Instead, they insist on climbing down to the trailheads and screaming at the top of their lungs.  I am not tolerant of this.  It is extremely annoying.  I avoid this problem by hiking at sunrise, when the tourists are sleeping off a night of partying.

I’ve always liked hiking, but did it infrequently.  I started hiking in earnest about a year and a half ago for a few simple reasons.  I needed more exercise and I feel most alive when I am out in nature.  I am not a good hiker, really.  A good 5 – 6 mile hike is usually enough to get my head on straight and to burn a sufficient number of calories.

Today I am struggling, cold and tired and sore.  I am hiking my 5.25 miles anyhow.  Suck it up, girlfriend.

There are particular points on my favorite trails that I always pause to appreciate.  At mile .5, I descend into some scrub.  It is delightful to quickly leave the desert in favor of tall bushes housing myriad birds.  I never actually see the birds in this area, I only hear their songs.

At mile 1, I run across two tall, dark, and dead trees. They are kind of handsome too. I don’t know what happened to them.  Were they struck by lightning?  Were they burned by fire?  Was the desert heat just too much for them?  I don’t know.  It doesn’t matter.  They greet me warmly on every hike.  They have become my friends.

At mile 1.35, the magic happens.  There is quite a climb to get to this spot.  It is definitely not far into the hike and would seem an unlikely resting spot.  I walk my dog farther than that every morning and don’t need a rest afterward.  I feel lazy taking a rest but it is entirely necessary, not because I am too tired to carry on, but because something quite moving happens to me at this spot.

Red rocks speak to me in a language few can or take the time to understand.  The language is old, millions of years old from a scientific point of view, infinite in time from a spiritual lens.  Physically speaking, the red, orange and brown rocks are due to iron deposits and exposure to elements.  This exposure has created a striking palette of wonder often overlooked as people hurry to get their photos and move on to the next activity.  I am here to listen, observe, ask my questions, and hear the answers.

Communing with nature at sunrise, this is my church.

First, the auditory bliss occurs when I tune out any residual noise from a hiker off in the distance or city noise that sometimes creeps in, such as a helicopter flying nearby.  I tune in to the sounds of nature.  It is usually the birds calling as they awaken from their slumber, calls that are so cheerful I make up stories about what they are saying.  Depending on the time of year, I sometimes hear the soft rattling of desert animals.  I don’t see them.  We’ve made a pact to leave each other in peace anyhow.  If I saw them, I would surely let them to their business while I imagined their life in the wild. The wind blows softly through the canyon and I hear the whoosh as it reaches some scrub.

Second, the visual splendor of the rocks, carved out of the magnificent forces of nature.  In this particular area, some of the nearer rocks are large, bulbous, and relatively smooth.  The jagged edges are only apparent if you choose to sharply focus on them.  Nearer, the rocks have an interesting skin, somewhat resembling the beautiful endangered desert tortoises.  I stare at them in awe of their rough beauty.  Far above me in the canyon there are lighter colored rocks, not having been exposed to water or iron deposits.  They are a beautiful contrast to the red hues, calling to you to look at them like a bad toupee.

But the real magic happens when I sit there in silence with my eyes closed.  Some people meditate in a quiet, peaceful room.  Others kneel in church and pray.  I sit there with my eyes closed, contemplating life’s obstacles, and I ask for answers.  In the tranquility and the spiritual feeling of the canyon, I hear the answers I need.  The answers are in me all along, but I need to take the time to ask questions about my troubles and hear what my heart and soul offer me in return.

I always get my answers.  Always.  I feel as if I am being watched over by some force beyond explanation, buried somewhere in the crimson canyon.

Today my question seems superficial.  I am embarrassed to ask it, but it has been nagging at me.

“Will I ever find love?”

I am sad today, feeling somewhat frantic in my need to be in love and to have that same person be in love with me.  I am not usually so motivated to experience something that few can explain, but I have had multiple triggers recently.  The triggers seem ridiculous to me, somewhat juvenile, but they are very real.  My ex-husband got engaged, one of my friends started a new relationship, and someone I have cared about for a long time also started a relationship and with someone other than me.

My spiritual side should tell me to be ecstatic for them.  How wonderful that these people have found love, have found a partner they care about.

I endeavor to be aligned with my spiritual side.  Today I am not.

Today, I am definitely selfish and hurting and sad.  Why can’t I have love too?  Of course, this needy side of me isn’t exactly a good way to attract “the one.”  I don’t care, I am sad and not thinking logically.

I close my eyes, ask my question, try to clear all thoughts out of my head, and just wait for my answer.

The answer isn’t long in coming, I just needed to be in my sacred space.  The answer is strikingly straightforward.  I already have love in my life, a complete abundance of it so great I can’t contain how blessed I feel.  And if the right person hasn’t shown up from a relationship standpoint, it simply isn’t time yet or I am simply not ready.

The love I do have in my life shows me two things, I am capable of loving and I am capable of being loved.  It is that uncomplicated.  It might not have resulted in a relationship…yet.  But it has resulted in love from friends and family that I value even more.

“It is just not time yet, so stop focusing so hard on it.  Surrender to all of the love you already have in front of you.  And don’t tie your value to a relationship that isn’t here yet.”

I am satisfied enough in the answer to open my eyes, take in the scene again, and get ready for the rest of my hike.  To be honest, I wanted a better answer.  Like I wanted the right guy to show up right there on the trail.  He didn’t.  Perhaps I missed the right guy when he did show up, like the guy who had to rescue me when I fell off the side of the trail.  The one I was too embarrassed and flushed to look at in the eyes.  Maybe one of the many silly incidents like that scared him away.  I know, though, that trying to force love to appear is futile at best.  It’s just not time.

The rest of my hike is just as wondrous as the beginning.  There are micro climates in the canyon that are fascinating.  As I reach the next trailhead and start heading into the tanks, I remember how glorious that part of the hike is.  The hike is through trees and brush and sand more like beach sand.  It is always cooler in this area, with lots of shade.  At certain times of the year, there is plenty of water here as well.

I also have a favorite resting spot on this trail, although not quite as spiritual.  Today it is chilly and the rocks are freezing my backside so I am not siting too long.  I climb off the rocks a little too quickly and head back.

The parking lots at the trailheads are starting to fill, but aren’t full yet.  The tourists are waking up and getting their last minute pictures.  I have received my answers so I am ready to begin my weekend.

I am satisfied.

But still a little sad.