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Ouroboros
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It almost always is a process- getting myself there, and with all necessary equipment (shoes, clothes, towel for afterward)- but as soon as I leave the gym and jog out to the parking lot, out to the path into the deep woods, I remember. I am revitalized. My running strides are sometimes more even than others, sometimes my breathing more labored- but my mind chatters and clears, and the trees loom overhead, big and tall, green moss on their trunks, sometimes obscured by fog. The path winds around and up and down, the small ferns bowed by raindrops or dew. The light is grey, filtering down beneath branches above. The depths of the woods suggests fairies, magic, holiness. "You are on native land" echoes inside me. The trail slopes downwards now as I reach the sound. If the tide is low I step off the trail and onto a beach of broken shells and rocks covered in barnacles. And the puget sound is before me; silent water reflecting the clouds, houses far away on the banks of the opposite shore, fisherman up to his knees in the cold water, birds flying and swooping, trees framing the hills, mountains capped with snow in the background. The air is pungent, it smells of sea life and mold. Silence and magic of nature, I know this is why I came to school here. These runs make it all worth while.
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070211
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