The Methow Valley

There are faraway places that invite the mind to remain there with you on the horizon of new ground. The energy of horizon invites presence and awareness, and an enhanced sense of living, of life. The wonder of new landscapes brings our thoughts from the past or the future, to the frontier of thought and time. It is on this plain that our old friend, Familiar, can’t access. Without Familiar often robbing us of our sense of wonder, we remain open and take in the world with a beginners’ eye, ear, nose, skin, mind, heart.

I have been going to the Methow Valley in the North Cascades of Washington State since I was eleven years old. Deep within the mountains I frequent a hideout tucked away up a drainage of late-successional, never logged, ancient and wise forest. In this still wilderness there is so much life to wonder. There is physical work and good food for the body. There is a wood fired sauna to settle the spirit, a spring-fed dunk tank to sooth the soul. The expansiveness offers expansiveness. I know there are these faraway places everywhere, and many are not very far away. They are often our backyards, a garden, a new beach, or a nude beach that holds wonder and our friend Familiar fades to glowing in the background.

The Horizon

Sitting on the horizon.
The edge of the known—
of the unknown.

Just beyond the suburbs, where houses
stretch thin with increased
distance between them.

Up and to the edge
of human development.

There—and just beyond—
forests where no
tree has ever been touched,
no blade scarred into the earth.

On that horizon
anything happens
all at the same time.
The birds sing,
pinecones fall
to the forest floor,
cottonwood seeds
sparkle in the air.

Timeless synchronicity, and yet

there can only be
that one thing
that happens
next.

An ancient always-place.
A wild place.
Being