i recently started attending a free series of zen meditation classes led by a generous woman i know from the uu fellowship, and have found it to be exactly what i need right now. i'm not sure if it's a practice i'll continue with, or if it's something i am drawn to only for the moment. but it occurs to me that i have been practicing zen at various points - mostly while kayaking or hiking - for most of my life. it's just that i'm being more intentional about it now.



saturday afternoon, i went on a sort of zen retreat of my own making. it had been a long while since i'd been solo camping, and with the past week of emotional upheaval it seemed time for some spring cleaning of the soul.

i affirmed my notion that it's legal to camp in the backcountry off the arizona trail without a permit and headed out to the sandy canyon trailhead. one of the reasons i chose this hike was because my hiking guide book told me that it passed through "the pit," a popular climbing area just outside of flagstaff that i hope to frequent this spring and summer. i wanted to see where the pit was and what it was like.

i began practicing mindfulness as i loaded up my trusty old gregory backpack that i got at a gear swap 10 years ago and hopped on my kona bicycle (one of the best things about this trip was that i was able to get from my door to the campsite and back entirely on my own power, without a drop of petrol). the only problem biking with my pack created was that i couldn't wear my helmet, because the top of my pack pushed my head forward uncomfortably. so i had to ride the 6 miles to the trailhead helmetless.

the weather was sunny and beautiful when i arrived. i locked my kona to a ponderosa pine and began hiking through the forest. as i walked, i tried to maintain mindfulness. once in awhile, i did feel like i achieved a true clarity and emptiness of mind for a moment, but i'm a beginner at meditation, and this is still very difficult for me. my mind often wandered, increasingly settling on my recent breakup. still, even when i thought of this, it was not with any anger or harsh feelings, only with a reminiscent longing. the sunshine and the natural beauty called to my mind the best of liz's personality, the gentleness and the goodness and the kindness that she radiates. the courage with which she enters the world with virtually no defenses. the compassion she shows for other people and for animals. and i missed all of this, and wished she were with me. i wished she was not leaving my life. i tried to let go of these thoughts though, and focus on my breathing and the sunshine.

in sandy's canyon, i found a perfect snack rock in the dry riverbed next to the trail. the rock was shaped like a giant booster seat, facing the sun. i climbed up on the rock and ate a sweet macintosh apple with relish while the sun warmed me. a couple of hikers walked past.

after my snack i continued the short jaunt to fisher's point, which stands at the intersection of walnut canyon and sandy's canyon. at the base of the cliff is a large cave, carved out of sandstone that is rippled with thick folds.

the view from the top of fisher's point was gorgeous, and i could see three trails intersecting in a y-shape far below. the trail forming the stem of the y was very dark with black sand, while the branches of the y appeared lighter in color, the left branch twisting as it made its way down sandy's canyon toward the pit. one might take many allegories from the wide wilderness vista and the three intersecting paths below. on a less serious note, though, the image reminded me of zelda, an adventure nintendo game i used to love as a kid.

seated on the white sandstone ledge overlooking the canyons, i enjoyed the last moment of warmth before the sun sank. i cleared my mind as i watched the glowing horizon darken and a fingernail clipping of moon brighten in the sky.

the night was cold, but i managed. snuggled in a sleeping bag i read teachings of the buddha by the light of my bicycle headlight. despite the cold, i did sneak out of the tent later in the night to get a good look at the stars. the sky was perfectly clear, and they were beautiful. the white sandstone slabs that formed a series of steps leading to the overlook glowed white in the starlight.

in the morning when the warmth returned i climbed out of my tent and saluted the sun with my own homespun version of a sun salutation. i sat on the sandstone ledge again and attempted to draw the view in my journal. drawing is certainly not my strong point, but i still find the act of drawing satisfying somehow.

i spent some time meditating on the ledge before packing up my tent and hitting the trail home, delighted to have found an ideal spot for a meditative retreat only 10 miles from my house. it could easily be a day trip as well, and is even reachable by mountain bike, provided one is equipped with hutzspah and a spare tube.