Yesterday I grabbed one of my favorite humans and took us to a sacred place. Not far from here is a very little known spot in a riverbed that has ancient footprints from two different kind of dinosaurs, one a large brontosaurus-like critter and the other a smaller velociraptor-like predator called an acrocathosaurus.
There are 11 footprints of this big boy interspersed with hollows from the herbivore, which are less impressive and appear to be mostly large divots in the riverbed about two feet across.
After grabbing some kolaches and water we began walking early, which is exactly what we needed, as the sun proceeded to crank up to 110 in my vehicle later that day.
We had good conversations about the past two or so years it had been since we last spent any significant time together. I felt like I went on and on about what a blessing this time alone has been, and how I don’t think dating is anything I’ll look for anytime soon. It’s just not fair of me to inflict that on anyone right now, I’m far too centered on healing. Having a person would distract me, and I know my codependent ways in the past have a habit of sneaking in and ruining things.
To be quite blunt, I need a good foundation inside me to build anything on and right now I feel like a rickety bamboo frame holding me in the air like a sky burial, stories above any of the normal life that mills around below. Definitely a frame suited for my mind at the moment but most definitely not sturdy enough for any other people to join.
Lately I’ve felt a bit like I’d added too much height and separation to that platform so high above the ground, but it was comfortable there so undisturbed by those who walked below me. Or perhaps one of the poles isn’t as sturdy as I thought, and my little secure nest so high was waving in the breezes, enough to make me nauseous from motion sickness.
This hike was exactly what I needed. We walked west along the mostly dry riverbed, talked to the trees as we passed them, smelling their leaves and giggling at the tiny perch in the river. They liked bits of our bread and so we threw crumbs into the water and watched the minnows grab crumbs bigger than they were and then speed away while their pals chased them. The river bubbled and chuckled along with us, murmuring under its breath about how happy it was that we’d come to wake up with the wild.
Most areas were flat and dry limestone riverbed, and a half mile upstream we finally found them. Every time I see them again it’s a surprise, as if I’ve been startled in the brush by a big carnivorous beast.
Barefoot I walked in the footprints, toeing my own little prints around them, imagining that now I stood in space millions of creatures had before, an overlapping echo of existence across all the parallel universes. I could feel the beasts and birds breathe across the millennia, almost smelling their hides, some warm and furry, or feathered, or cool and smelling like the moss that surrounded them. The same moss that surrounded us now.
We found a sweet little spot I’m fond of, under the watchful eyes of ancient oaks whose acorns were almost as big as my fist (I should have gotten a pic of them but was too happy to say hi to the trees).
The skies were brilliant to the point of painful, so even though I wanted to wander farther upstream we packed up and walked out, saying goodbye to the boulders that sheltered us and the caves that whispered beyond the trail. The river was glad we came and almost felt like it was trying to pull us back to love us more, cradled in wilderness without a sound or sight of humanity other than our selves.
Yes, limestone, yes river and yes, you buxom full trees, home to hundreds, always giving and always nurturing on your own terms.
I am you too.
A Burd in Flight 