Going Into Place

(Please click on the title for a reading aloud by the author.)

There are trails and places in the mountains I go to time and time again. Often simply because they are beautiful, but occasionally there is something mysterious and intangible which draws me back. There is one such trail in the Pecos. The forest transitions from juniper to piñon to ponderosa to spruce and fir. At the higher elevations there are stands of aspen. And along the way there are interesting rock formations and hiking the trail at the end of day, when it is quiet and the light is fading, things occur unseen and unknown. It is sometimes exciting and sometimes unsettling to be there.

Nearing the summit one afternoon, on a steep pitch I took a break to get my wind back and have a drink of water. The trail crossed a small outcrop of snow white quartz with bits of mica here and there. Off to the side were loose pieces of metamorphic rock, roughly bread loaf size, they were dark charcoal with a swirly glimmer to them. There I saw the stone. It was beautiful… ancient… and captured my attention. About the size and shape of a catcher’s mitt, it had the same dark swirly glimmer but with areas of quartz varying from white through rose to a deep warm red. I picked it up. It felt good in my hands, dark and full of stories. I set it down and made a note to myself of the location. On my way down I would put it in my pack and take it home. That evening I washed the dirt from the bottom of the stone and set it on the coffee table in the living room.

The stone had presence to it. It was fascinating to look at, but almost immediately I was uncomfortable with having it there. It was not right to separate it from the mountain. I languished over this all week, but knew what I had to do. The next weekend I put it in my pack to return it to the mountain. Lugging it those miles up hill gave me opportunity to reflect on my senses of possessiveness versus generosity, and leaving the order of things alone. Like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle going into place the stone fit in the depression it had left in the soil.

Months later I hiked the trail again. On the steep slope I could see the outcrop of quartz coming up and looked forward to saying hello to the stone. When I got there, it was gone. I have been there many times since and it has not come back.

Gordon Bunker