We headed toward an outcropping of rock. You said it looked like a place where people would gather. You were right, something about the way the meadow opened up to it, granite seats overlooking Foresta. Maybe you could feel it in the air, the gravity of moments frozen in time, settling in the brisk air. That was the thing about this place, it doesn’t have the grandeur of Yosemite Valley, just a few miles to the east. It has a more subtle beauty that has grown on me over the last few years. Often on my walks down to the Ranch and around the river, I have this strong feeling like I can feel the past, the many people who have lived here before me, I can see everything in geological time. Glaciers forming river canyons, carving out a hanging valley where I find myself spending my days now.

I sat feeling the winter sun on my face. Just listening to the wind and watching the Junco’s flit back and forth between trees, caught in some sort of afternoon game. It seems to me there are different kinds of ways to thrive. Sometimes it has to do with actually doing thing, achieving things, becoming more. And sometimes it has to do with letting go, and just being exactly where your two feet are in that very moment.

Cheyenne Sukalski
Standing Tall

The wind howled outside shaking the trees with such vigor they bowed down to kiss the ground. Back and forth they went, and I knew they must be getting tired. How much can you really bend before you break? But they kept on going all night, and in the morning I found just the loose bits shaken over the ground; the needles that should have been shed a week ago but had stuck around for no particular reason. It seemed the trees were reminding me, to lessen my grasp, shake loose what isn't serving me, and stand tall into this wild and precious life.

Cheyenne Sukalski