the good reverend greysquirrel

the first thing i did when i arrived at st. malo, was climb the mountain (or hill) behind the retreat center. i splayed myself out like a lizard across an obliging rock, and listened to nothing.

yellow, golden, amber, pomegranate aspens were waving in the breeze around me. it was so silent, i could hear the clapping of the aspens in the breeze. the rattle of their leaves to the wind. i would have stayed there forever, perched on that rock, if i could.

but since i could hear the hum of the a/c kicking on, i went higher.

snow flurries began on the road up, so i was being painted with beauty the entire time.

now at the peak of the mountain (hill), i found yet another obliging rock whose contours fit mine. i splay out in the other direction with arms outstretched looking up to the crystal blue sky, which was being overrun by clouds. the bare brown mountain peak just beyond approved of my presence.

nothing. absolute silence. there i stayed for about an hour. snow flurries descending, perfect in their uniqueness.

since i was wearing flip flops the entire time (i had tennies, but i like taking my shoes off), i discovered why flip flops are not the recommended footwear for ascending or descending mountainous hills. very slippery. i didn't fall. but i did obtain a bit of mountain sage, which i carried with me. i haven't had my hands on fresh sage for years. i wore it in my hair, on my clothes, and carried it with me the entire weekend. breathing in the sweet healing scent.

i ascended the mountain one last time and found my obliging rock again. it had snowed that night, barely, just a dusting really. so the glint of jewels was everywhere. i perched upon the rock and sat. wept. prayed. listened to no thing.

even in my room at night, there was utter silence. i had asked for no roommate so i could revel in the embracing silences. and so i did.

after about a half hour, friday morning. the good reverend greysquirrel took the pulpit. he lectured me on the etiquette of the forest and the nature of God. chirping and squeaking, barking and grunting, he said his piece for about five minutes. and then skitted off through the forest with a pine cone.

i sat a bit longer, then returned to the world of artisans i was there to mingle with.

i, the richer for my absence.