Meandering Stream

Here we are, standing at the bank of a mountain stream where a steady flow of water finds its way back to the ocean. On days like these, I like to come to this mountain stream to unwind. With no agenda and no map, let's follow the stream and see where it takes us. Do you hear the light trickle of the stream? It flows with ease, winding and weaving through fallen branches and over smooth rocks. Before we follow its path, let's begin with a little wind down. This one is a breathing exercise. So first, get comfortable in your bed. Now, just bringing the attention to the breath, just noticing where you feel it, in the nose, the throat, the chest, the diaphragm. You're nice and relaxed. We're going to be taking a deep breath in for four, holding it for four, and then breathing out for six. So are you ready? Let's begin. In for four, two, three, four. Hold it for four, two, three, four. Now breathing out for six, two, three, four, five, six. In for four, two, three, four. Holding for four, two, three, four. Out for six, two, three, four, five, six. In for four, two, three, four. Holding for four, two, three, four. Out for six, two, three, four, five, six. In for four, two, three, four. Holding for four, two, three, four. Out for six, two, three, four, five, six. Great, now returning the breath to normal. We stop for a awhile on a large granite colored rock, sitting at first, then leaning back, letting your head be cradled by a small hollow in which, judging by the watermark, rainwater pools before being baked off by the sun. The surface of the rock warms your skin, even through your T-shirt. You lie for a moment, taking in the heat, and apply some sunscreen, which makes your skin glisten. Your gaze grows distant, wanders upwards, comes to rest on the lonely hiking trail which cuts through some pine trees. Where does it lead, you wonder, that trail? Does it end up at the peak of the mountain? Could one really climb that bare rock face, leaning slightly sideways? All thoughts are interrupted by a few hikers and their dog making their way along the mountain trail. You admire them, making their slow ascent through the pines, but have no desire to be up there yourself. One of the hikers, catching sight of you, waves. "Hello," you say, waving back. Of course they can't hear you. Were it a few weeks earlier in summer, the water would have been warmer. But it's autumn now. Too late for swimming, you tell yourself. And anyway, you've not brought your swimsuit. But still, the water is inviting. Your body feels tempted. You feel a kind of thirst to be inside it, find yourself strangely envious of the little silver fish darting by. You take your shoes off and you dip a toe into the water, then...