I found myself in the forest. When I was there, that’s where I was. The ground did sponge beneath my step, in shadow the steeper down I climbed.

If there were bridges to tip toe across, I did, green carpet under shoe. If there were webs still sticky stretched, I was caught, a spider’s feasting dream. If there was a clearing, so private, I stayed I danced like nature herself. I pushed I shattered the limits of expression for an audience solely made of trees.

They said they had never before and will never again witness the likes of me. They do remember these things.

Meanwhile on the Oregon mountain top only a step away, six hundred raw foodists on display. Sipping coconut water, feeding each other nectarines, as if it were an everyday thing (which of course it is). Speakers addressed the importance of minerals, fasting, raw parenting and exercise while chefs shared secrets of culinary delight---ingredients organic, uncooked and alive . Intimate conversation among strangers is normal. The music of flute is common place. A community insisting on vibrant health. The trees remember these things.

And under the stars, who could care less, only one day earlier I broke my fast with the tea of the Sacred Vine. I saw visions and I was blessed. But the stars could really care less.

Before that, three days without food and alone, the ocean crawled to me and invited me home. Honored, I had to pass. Her invitation will last.

I will search, I will question, I will try something different, I will insist on the extraordinary life. I will grow, I will learn, I will share, I will seek til I’m lost, then mySelf will I find. I will travel, I swear, to the ends of the earth, I will share a smoke with Never. I will dance like a child for an audience of trees---these things they will remember.

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