Mountain Spring

Some of my thoughts on love and our journey on earth. Followed with a story I wrote based from a prompt Aaron gave me. It turned into a collaborative piece with him writing the ending. Writing this short story was a blessing to me, I felt the need to share it sooner than later even though I haven’t completely “finished” it yet.
I have somehow become too busy to commit to my writing sessions. In revisiting this I am reminded that I need to make time.

Love one another. A lesson you must learn. Love for yourself is what comes after, but love for God comes first. However, these all coexist with one another. Your love is not full with only one and not the rest and when put to the test – push onward and believe. Learning how to love is a lifelong journey; loving in all humility and sincerity. Another lifelong journey – learning to be humble, in all aspects of life.

There are highs and lows in the journey
It’s not all travels along ridges or walks across the balds, with spectacular views, partly cloudy skies and a slight breeze carressing your body.
It’s downhills with aching, shaking knees and sore ankles, through thick forests and descents to open valleys.
It’s the neverending meadows with often no shade from the scorching sun.
It’s abrupt temperature changes, sometimes feeling like your own personal hell. However, remind yourself that you must walk through it all to get to your destination. You can see those glorious peaks in the distance and you will reach them in due time. After crossing over the well awaited river in the valley; the river that pours from the mountain spring.
“Mountain spring
Pour into my soul
When my days are tiring
I am empty, you make me whole”

I was tired. Taking a rest on a fallen tree, I told myself I wasn’t prepared for this yet. However, my longing for the water was strong, my desire deep. I was only six miles into the forest with about three more to go. I checked my watch – 2:27. I had made good time thus far, and did not have much time for a break. The sky overhead threatened a storm – those of which I had heard could be potentially life threatening if one found themselves caught in it. The rain would pour and accumulate out of the reservoir uphill, only to be released down in a fury of water. It was the same reservoir that was filled from the spring I was searching for. I finished my lunch and, a bit energized from my time sitting, pressed on up the trail. I had a second-wind.
I kept my eyes open for a shelter: one that would be safe from the storm. Another half-hour passed me by and I felt a raindrop tap against my nose. I stopped for a moment to look up. The sky darkened overhead as the rain increased, creating a pitter-patter sound on the leaves. The storm was knocking and I had no choice but to let it in. The rushing water would find me soon.
I continued with haste up the mountain with confidence that I’d find a safe haven soon. My thighs and lungs burned, my whole body begging for another break. I denied myself, I had to. Two miles to go, I whispered to myself between strained breaths. The rain became more aggressive within a short amount of time. Thankfully, my gear stayed dry. I was somewhat prepared for this, I suppose. I had been told that approximately a mile and a half to the top there was a hiding place. I had to press on through the rain, despite the possibilities of being washed out. I had no choice. Despite the undeniable danger of the storm, the rain remained magical, resembling a cleansing of sorts. A cleansing… similar to that of the one I would receive at the spring.
This was just the beginning, I reminded myself as I climbed as quickly as I could manage. My progress was gradual with the rain, the mud, and the incline, not to mention the elevation gain and my drenched shoes. A small creek was accumulating on the trail and I sensed that it would soon turn to the river I was warned of. My heart beat increased more so as my fear built up. Would I make it? My mind raced, questioning my efforts. Doubt began to creep in to my thoughts as I remembered something important – the berry bushes.
They said berry brambles occupy both sides of the trail, making it impossible to avoid the descending water. An obstacle on the trail, but they also promise the upcoming shelter. Hope began to swell in me. And then I saw it! Through blurry blinking eyes, I found the alcove carved into the rockface. I had to climb up to it and the slippery surface proved that challenging, especially with a heavy pack. I considered leaving it behind but I couldn’t be without it on my lengthy return to the base of the mountain. I said a prayer and grabbed onto the grooves in the rock formations. This had been done many times before. It was evident, as if a trail had been carved by those who had come before me. Tricky, but a trail nonetheless.
And then I heard it: the river rushing. The source of life, but number one cause of death on this trail. My heart pounded. I scrambled upward as carefully as it was possible. I reached the nook. My arms shaking, I managed to pull myself up and I was safe with perfect timing as I witnessed the most violent river rush by me, taking fallen branches with it. Thunder echoed through the leaves as lightning lit up the forest. It was powerful; unbelievable.
I removed my shoes and pack, and huddled under my blanket. I managed to start a fire, thanks to those who stocked this haven with dry wood. My adrenaline was intense and I knew I needed to eat but somehow didn’t have an appetite even after all the physical strain. I watched in disbelief at the phenomenon that was occurring, astonished that I was a bystander, not a victim. It is said that half of those who attempt to reach the spring either give up or… or don’t make it at all. I was not part of that half. I made it this far and now await the storm to pass. All who make it to the spring must endure the storm and by the time it passed, the sun was at the edge of the horizon. I was spending the night in the nook; a long night it was, with my mind racing and body still in survival mode. It was clear that I was, in all reality, prepared for this.
As the sun rose, I returned to the trail and consumed my share of the fresh berries before finishing that last mile and a half. I also spent several minutes foraging for fallen wood to replenish what I used. Terrain and situationally speaking, it was the easiest part of the hike. On the contrary, I was in a state of exhaustion. My entire body ached, my eyes drooped, my shoes were still damp. My pack somehow felt heavier even though it was lighter. My head in a fog, I navigated over the roots and rocks.
I reached the treeline shortly after sunrise, opening up the view to pink and orange skies. My eyes immediately directed towards the spring and the light hit it in the most glorious way, illuminating the source. I stood in awe of the water flowing out of that rock. I removed my pack and, more importantly, my shoes. I slowly proceded. The reservoir glistened as I approached. I touched the water.
The moment my fingertips made contact with the crystal clear surface, the chill of the water pulsated through my body and began to bring my senses back to life. In that moment, I realized that the water was alive. I reached my hand and, cupping my palm, I brought the medicine to my lips. I consumed the water with the reverence of my first communion. I looked up, my eyes now feeding off the becoming blue sky. I breathed deeply and thanked the Creator for not only the reward of the water and his protection but also for the obstacles he placed in my path in order to build my strength and as a reminder to not take life for granted. Suddenly, I heard a voice so close it seemed it was a tree who spoke with the words: “drink child.”


A land with no fences

Another throwback from 2015. Still remember when I was walking on the land I reside on when I thought of this.


I now roam a land, a land so vast, so open
A land with no fences, no boundaries.
Time and distance are no matter; they were only a portion of my imagination in the life before.
The paths my feet walk on are illuminated, the grass glows and sways each way in the gentle breeze, the same breeze that caresses my skin and flows through my hair.
The trees here are more majestic than the ones I once knew, the reflections of them stand on the crystal clear water before me.
I realize that I can no longer differentiate the sky and the earth – there is no up, there is no down; gravity does not exist here, nothing holds me to the ground.
My body is lighter, my vision is enhanced, my senses increased.
I encounter strangers I feel I once knew, but no longer recognize.
The one that I recognized, I have longed to meet since the day I was born. A familiar friend, a teacher, a leader, a hero of mine – I always knew within me, but never did see face to face. He approaches me, as tears of joy swell in my eyes. He says to me, “Hello friend, I am glad you are here. Welcome home.”
I am unable to speak, unable to move – except falling to the ground and weeping, but this time not in sorrow. This is the first time I have heard the words “welcome home” and felt it to be true. I am the happiest I have ever been.
“Stand; look at me,” a gentle voice speaks; a soft hand on my arm raises me up.
I look him in the eyes and with a light heart and a free spirit I say “Thank you.”

He told me: “I knew you before you woke up. Before your soul became conscious, I saw you, I held you. When you were conceived was the first time you awoke, birth was the second. Every year, at the same time, you opened your eyes more, until you reached death – now you are fully awake and you are truly alive.”

Floating through the forest

Original from December 12 ’15

I was floating through the forest, the bare trees surrounding me, my body small compared to their great stature. Dried leaves crinkle beneath my feet, my legs effortlessly carry my weight through the woods. Forward and onward. The sun peaks through just enough to work my skin. This is what I miss – finding freedom in the outdoors, surrounded by the Lord’s perfect art. In this setting, nothing more matters than the land to explore when the chains around the soul break and all desires and worries outside of these woods vanish. All I want is this.

The serenity, the unknown. The unending adventures that lie beyond.

Which ones followed are up to you. This is what you once dreamed of. There is much opportunity – just take the first few steps forward and the rest will come naturally. After you begin walking, even when you feel stuck, confidence keeps you going. Be relentless, wanderer, the less you give up, the more you find.
It’s courage that gets you over that first hill, fear that holds you back. The climb leaves you feeling challenged, don’t look back, that only going to slow you. Sometimes the downhill seems easier but only puts you at where you first began. Move on and over it. You won’t get far with those chains around your ankles, be free of them, be free to move.
Now you ascended from the valley, you are on the first ridge. Life is like a mountain climb, take it in segments, step by step…and most importantly, don’t forget to breathe and take time to soak in the views.

My mind wants to create

From… Sometime in 2015. Original, unrevised.


As I gaze amongst the vast plains,
A blank canvas set before me
My mind longs to create
To wander in different realms
Travel to distant lands
From the high mountains, to the low valleys
To the deepest depths, to the chasms and caves
Of the dark space that once appeared as an abyss, never ending, uninhabitable
I descend to the bottom and discover that it contains hidden treasures,
Treasures of my soul, of once unimaginable inventions within me
They stir, in powerful whirls,
as they push me forward and upward
And as I am ascending from the floor, flying out of the cavern,
Clouds of steam and glowing, glittering light surround me
I see the sun again, beyond the clouds
Illuminating them with all of his glorious life
I see the sun again, shining on me
Soaring in beauty and grace above all gravitational pulls
Which I once succumbed to in sedentary solitude
I am alive, I am free

April 2

I wrote this poem April 2nd and 3rd

The meaning is sinking in still, and I am learning from it.
I often times write things to myself, sometimes unintentionally. The words just come out and I take it as a sign of perfect design of the way life works. Writing has been a beautiful gift, I’ve learned much about my journey of depression through it. I’ve come more in tune with my soul and am seeking more. Oh, I have so much more to learn…


I’ve felt deep in my soul,
The need to project.
I’ve felt in my heart the pull;
But the necessity to protect
The constructive thought process of my mind.
To open up and let my words flow.
Experiencing life of a new kind;
Expressing why we need to let go

Let go… of our troubles, our worry.
When our brain is running a dark race,
Caught amidst a violent furry…
Slow down to a peaceful pace.

Born from the dust,
Remove your shoes and be one with your mother, earth.
Take a leap with trust…
Experiencing a new birth
Out of the womb of your past.
Moving on and accepting grace
Creating something that will last,
Exposing your true face.

Becoming aligned –
Mind, heart and spirit,
perfectly timed.
The voice is calling, can you hear it?
You’re a warrior,
Built to survive!
Ready for more,
Ready for the dive
Into a positive life.
Learning to be content
Amongst all the strife
Following the path from this journey of lent.

Sometimes you need your own space,
Sometimes there is a need to vent,
But put your complaints in their proper place.
Make your tongue a tool of love,
Not a weapon of destruction.
Put focus on the light above,
For without it you would not function.
Look towards that ascending dove,
Leading you with internal instruction.

Be aware and be fair!
The ones who hate you,
Love them even more;
Because agape love conquers all!
It has every time before,
Still remaining strong and tall.

Listen to the songs that your brother is singing:
Hopeful melodies.
And now you are fully believing
That the poems and music have the remedies
You have been craving.

So sing songs,
And dance along!
Because your heart is at rhythm
With a voice behind the beat,
it longs to be music, too;
To be poured out into beautiful notes,
To be words spilled out onto blank pages,
To be the sounds that fill the empty air…
Sounds that heal
and bond me to you;
a bond that brings us together.

Next time you feel blue,
Remember the nights spent on the porch…
Writing and listening.
To the frogs
And the crickets,
Singing along.
Here, how could you find anything wrong?
With faith continuously growing strong.

Gazing into the sun,
Preparing for a new day,
Intentions to make it a good one.
Only reciting words necessary to say,
This journey has only begun.
Everything will be okay…

or even better than okay.
and although I prefer it that way,
when I come to a day
when I feel torn apart
and don’t want to leave my house,
there is still a tomorrow…

and that tomorrow is today.

Good Friday

oh, much deep sorrow
that is experienced when
your people are torn

our hearts are forlorn
to us a savior was born
but we still chose war

yelling, “crucify!”
we sent the lamb off to die
from him was no cry

while he carried us
heavy burdens in the form
of his Holy Cross

with a new hope that
the nations would finally
unite in the light