I am driving slowly down a gravel road. The window is open, and the smell of grasses and firs and dust is commingled in a magic way that triggers a response of peace for me. The promise of hope has brought me here

I get out of my car, parking alongside the rural, empty road. My feet crush gravel as I walk to the small open field leading to the woods. I take a deep breath, feeling my shoulders relax. With my face to the sun, I walk towards a copse of aspen trees that hedge in a much larger forest of old growth pine and fir.

Grasses wave beside be, brushing my legs, occasionally revealing wild flowers swaying for attention as I move purposely forward. Step by step, the elevation rises subtly, and I feel the stress leave my body, even as my heartbeat matches my steady footfall.

Soon I hear the “shhhhhsh” of the aspen grove, leaves quivering and trembling in the mid day sun. The thin, rounded leaves, golden and yellow, shiver a welcoming “shoosh” as I walk into their ranks, feeling smaller, yet not diminished by the rising papery white trunks. My hand stops to run along the tender bark, scars showing in stark, dark relief to the glowing white rise of trees. I look up, then slowly close me eyes as the sun distills light through the quaking leaves, the wind weaving around and through the swaying canopy. The distilled light warms my head, and sieves my troubled thoughts away, swirling the hair on my head, dispelling the troubled thoughts into a playful wind that sends the leaves into a frenzy of rejoicing.

This is not the place for stress, or memory, or pain.

My path now is narrowing into an ancient one, known to travelers and animals since times long past. The swaying rustle of high desert grasses is replaced by a carpet of green grass, darkening even as I approach the old growth.

The path closes in. Young saplings surround me, protected by the guardian Douglas firs and pine trees that rise and rise, and the air become still as I enter this sacred space.

I walk slowly, inhaling great deep breaths of air released by these heavily sapped trees. The canopy is closing in protectively, and the great branches above me almost fully hide the sunlight. They hover over me, shielding me, protecting me, even as the saplings and small patches of moss and ferns clothe their massive roots in soft, tender growth.

I hear the creak of the large ancient ones slowly swaying above me. Small branches crack as unseen forest dwellers jump from limb to limb.

I close me eyes, arms outstretched, and bathe in the forest. The light is dim, the wind corralled in the tree tops, funneled down to an occasional cool breeze brushing me gently, scented with nuances that are centuries old.

The sacred space closes in around me, encircling me in peace and calm, fresh air and the brush of fern fronds.

From here I know exactly the path that takes me into me safest place.

This, for me, is a path I must walk alone.