Birthing a New Landscape

"On the Sandy River Trail on my way to Ramona Falls." photo by Lee G Young  © 2014

It was an experience of contrasts on my seven mile hike to Ramona Falls in the Mt. Hood Wilderness in Oregon. On my trek there, I saw downed logs lying near stark forests of Douglas Fir, eroded, crumbling banks of the Sandy River and tall, stately basalt cliffs, produced by past volcanic eruptions, that rose up seeming to challenge the volcano on the horizon, Mt. Hood. There was evidence everywhere that landforms were either being worn down, as in the barren Sandy riverbed, or in the process of being built up, as in the lava dome, Crater Rock, seen on the face of Mt. Hood. I passed by desert-like plants, hardy enough to endure lots of heat and very little water and later on the trail marveled at the emerald green mosses that covered the wet rocks lining Ramona Creek. 

"The Sandy River meanders through the Mt. Hood Wilderness." photo by Carol E Fairbanks  © 2014

Everywhere I looked, expressions of nature were speaking to me telling me their stories of creation and loss. The drama of the mountain, river and trees was demonstrated in those areas that were either being built up or broken down by the forces of nature. Nothing was static - the Sandy River flowed rapidly, carrying a concentration of ground down soil particles from the mountain, and Mt. Hood, during its history of eruptions, had released huge amounts of mud, often choking the flow of Sandy River. The cycle of birthing a landscape was clearly demonstrated before me by the interactions of all of those natural elements . 

The laws of nature had set those changes into motion hundreds and thousands of years ago, and here I was, on my walk, being a witness to its playing out in all its magnificence. The landscape, continually changing and altering its face, was presenting to me a vivid picture of the cycle of birth, death and rebirth …. the law by which all creation lives. I, too, have seen in my life, that as things have been built up, they ultimately break apart and fall away, leaving room for some new birth to take place. 

"Hikers cross the Sandy River on the seasonal bridge, that is erected in the spring and taken down in the winter before the snow starts falling."  photo by Carol E Fairbanks © 2014

All growth, both within and without, is based on this premise of gain and loss. This is the foundation, upon which all of creation depends, as it moves toward some ideal of existence. That is why, resisting change and holding onto the status quo only inhibits our growth and diminishes our potential. Even the act of loving follows this expression of manifestation, as we sometimes are asked to let go of what or who we profess to love. Nature teaches us that holding on to anything or anyone can block the destiny of what is asking to be born. And, as with all births, it probably does not happen without some grief and pain. 

"Mt. Hood can be seen from the Sandy River Trail" photo by Carol E Fairbanks © 2014

The scarring of the face of Mt. Hood, that reveals its sporadically violent natural history, and the carved out banks of Sandy River demonstrate that birth process. Sometimes the sweeping natural forces of change are so powerful that even those things that appear immoveable are still broken away with great drama and violence, as with the pyroclastic mud flows from Mt. Hood,  that scoured out the valley of Sandy River. The landscape in the Mt. Hood Wilderness has changed dramatically through the years, and with each eruption, what was lost was gone forever. 

"Ramona Creek has numerous small waterfalls and cascading water." photo by Carol E Fairbanks © 2014

But, fortunately, there are some places, both in the Mt Hood Wilderness and in our lives, that remain peaceful and unchanged - a place of oasis, where we can be at rest and heal from the challenging trauma of change and loss. That’s what it felt like to me when I suddenly came upon the babbling Ramona Creek on the north fork of the trail. Almost instantly the hot temperature was cooled by the flowing water in the creek I hiked near, as the tall Douglas Fir and Western Hemlock trees formed a canopy that covered the trail with welcome shade. The stark changes along the Sandy River, that had been affected by former volcanic eruptions and rock slides, were left behind, and the rocky dry soil transitioned into a vibrant environment, abundant with green underbrush and emerald colored moss. And, as I continued up the narrow rock canyon trail following Ramona Creek, it only became more lush and beautiful. As I witnessed a landscape brimming over with an abundance of life force, I, too, began to feel more alive. 

"120 foot Ramona Falls"  photo by Carol E Fairbanks  © 2014

As I went around the last curve in the trail before reaching the falls, I finally had my first glance at the dazzling Ramona Falls. Upon seeing it,  I was in awe of its magnificent size and beauty. My senses were sharpened, as I felt the cool mist and lower temperature of this mammoth, cascading waterfalls. The sound of its countless mini falls, reverberating off the stair-stepped cliffs of the columnar basalt wall, was a symphony of soothing, delightful sound.  The vision of lace-like patterns of falling water in this nurturing resting place, was as inspiring as any great cathedral in Europe. All of what my senses were taking in supported an inner restoration, that brought to my mind the certainty of an absolute goodness that underlies everything in the universe - even the devastating changes. 

"Cooling off my hiking feet at the creek at Ramona Falls...ahhhh!"  photo by Carol E Fairbanks © 2014

After sitting on a rock by the falls for a while, I removed my shoes and socks, and immersed my hot, tired feet in the cold water. As the water flowed gently over my feet, I felt a love from which that universal goodness flows. It was a direct experience, beyond words, of the love that pervades and directs the universe, and I became more aware of my part in that dance of the cosmos.  As I completed my hike back to the trailhead, I noticed that I did not feel as hot as I had when I made my ascent. Even though it was hotter, the memory of my feet in the cold water at Ramona Falls seemed to keep me from experiencing the same drenching perspiration, that had soaked my shirt on the way up. When I arrived back at the parking area, the only thing exceeding my happiness in completing the trail, was the joy of seeing that I had luckily parked my car in an area that was now shaded and cool. It was a most welcome gift of the trees.

"Photographing Ramona Creek." photo by Lee G Young © 2014

Albert Einstein once said, “Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.” I believe he meant that nature teaches us not only about the world outside of us, but also within us. Indeed, as we connect more fully with nature’s landscapes, the mystery of our own inner landscape becomes clearer to us. The hike to Ramona Falls offered me the reassurance of being more at peace with all those stages of transition in my life. It is the treasure of that greater awareness of the underlying goodness in every step of the natural cycle - whether in the building up or the breaking down, that gives us strength to be. Indeed, it is truly comforting to know that through the birth of every new landscape, in us and on the earth, there promises to be some restorative experience, like Ramona Falls….which always supports our journey in expressing more fully the essence of who we are.
                          

                                         by Carol E Fairbanks, W.W.W