Journal/Coast to Coast—Day 4
Date: August 25th, 2017—St Bees to Ennerdale Bridge
A Path Shared
hours trekked preparing—
cross training for a journey~~~
eyes unprepared for what the imagination can barley grasp. The steps holding fast—my breath learning how to keep a new tempo with sudden ascents, tiny steps grab onto quick descents.
My being captures the wind. I know THIS fierce freedom~~~my body like a mustang on a hill galloping and then carried. All the preparing~~~physically, mentally, emotionally…the pace set.
Prayer was/is the constant source…
a well from which I drink brings me here…
NOW, again, yet a first. Beside me another being…two steps~~~now four.
In oneness, a shared path we walk…our pace different and ‘we’ breathe holding each other’s steps.
A dance displayed~~~the ballroom of creation’s floor going off in unimaginable directions.
The music of silence
—a partridge jetting out from the tall grasses
—bogs swamping our boots
—the dribble of mud caked on our pants
—a pause at the river
feet plunged in, ‘another’ steps in with boots on…an exchange in this ballet…I hand over the map held in plastic to hold back the possibility of soaking rains.
I cross and then my companion prepares to do the same. In her doing so, the map or maps slip from her hand gently, slowly preparing to make their way down the stream. A pregnant pause…a rush to recover~~~they are recovered and soaked…a holy laughter ensues.
From here we climb, and climb, and climb~~~is there a summit?—NO!
Here it is—-NO!
A rock pile, cairns…a hill (Dent Hill) of remembrance. It begins to rain. We are literally in the clouds. The view through speckles of vapor~~~ stunning. Shadows, silhouettes are tucked between edges that would not—could not fold.
We walked amidst angels today from beginning to end. When we thought ourselves lost, we could not have been more found…AND, the dearest angel met today again and again and again—the friend beside me stepping, trusting, a willingness to open to this shared path.
Still, there are more than two pairs of footprints walking with us.
There are a set of ‘soles’ not asking us to follow but, THIS time, stepping in ours delighting ‘we’ believe, at least enough, that we will make our way.
Our ending~~~that will be a tale—
Perhaps, we will share—
Parts we will hold sacred—
One thing certain already…
We will never be the SAME.