A Glancing Moment

A couple of years ago I had the chance to take a six thousand mile road trip with a friend. We camped our way through many of the national parks in late September. It was on this trip that I met the wise old sequoia who allowed me to sit at his feet and who shares a photo with me now. That picture was taken the night before we arrived in Kings Canyon a little south of Yosemite.

Kings Canyon was an unknown park to me, but after the bears in Tahoe and Yosemite I thought I was ready for anything. I don't care how cute you think black bears are, to me any creature that weighs in over 350 pounds and comes equipped with claws, teeth, a moderate amount of intelligence and big fat cubs, is intimidating. I was a little bear shy by this time, so I was keeping an eye out for them on that first morning we hiked up into the high country of the Sierra Nevadas. By this time I was accustomed to carrying several bottles of water and no food whatsoever. I had suffered altitude sickness and barely made it back to camp at one of our first stops and I had no desire at all to become a mobile meal package for some bear. I was also feeling the need to be alone after so many nights of sharing a tent with a very crabby roommate.

I know it is not wise to hike alone, but we decided to go our separate ways for a little while and meet back at the lake afterwards. It was a Narnian morning, enhanced by the clear sky and perfect sun. I walked up rocks so large, I felt as if I were entering the castle of some ancient people who might still be watching me from the shadows. I turned a corner and saw three deer standing in a sun dappled meadow. I saw a little snake slither into the crevice before me and even saw a tiny yellow frog. I stood beside a waterfall, listening to the water drip and ripple over rocks as smooth as ice and imagined myself living here long ago. Again I had the feeling that I was being watched and could feel the hairs standing up along my neck. Turning around I glanced up into the tree behind me and there was Aslan! Not the great maned one of CS Lewis's chronicles, but a young sleek Aslan. His leonine body rippled across the branch without moving a paw, or raising a whisker. His eyes were so full of life they were startling. I was frozen in terrified awe.

Looking into the eyes of this young god, a creature so beautiful and tawny that he did not feel real, I stood there for what seemed like hours afraid to move; afraid that even the slightest movement on my part might incite him to jump, but he only watched me. I remember thinking that I was seeing things, that this could not possibly be real. I even tried to have a conversation with him in my head, but it was useless. Standing in the presence of such a creature does not lend itself to ordinary conversation. It is a time for the Silence I seek within myself on ordinary days.

Eventually, probably really after only a minute or two, he rose, turned and lightly leaped to the ground. His beautiful haunches bunched up and he almost seemed to fly onto the rocks behind the tree. Pausing there, he gave me one more look and disappeared over the top. I did not move. I stayed there, stunned. I am still stunned when I remember. It was a glancing moment, a moment right out of a Rumi poem, a modern day myth that inspires me still.

And I know I shall spin tales of it for many years to come.