Hiking Blackett’s Ridge — Image by kenne
We were hiking on Blackett’s Ridge
When the view called me over
For a moment of meditation —
The existence of a beautiful view
Is to take time to stop.
— kenne
Archive for the ‘Hiking’ Tag
Blackett’s Ridge Trail Leave a comment
Douglas Spring Trail Leave a comment
Douglas Spring Trail — Image by kenne
On a chilly desert morning
we walk into sun rising
over the Rincon Mountains
in Saguaro National Park East.
— kenne
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The Humble Back Of The Mountain Leave a comment
Aspen Trail on Mt. Lemmon — Image by kenne
Sun warms the lizard’s back
and the humble back of the mountain.
A raven croaks from the top of a thermal.
The valley oak above the barn,
dying a huge branch at a time,
stands in calm mortability, content
with the warm light that has fed its leaves,
the dark waters that have fed its roots,
its acorns that have fed the woodpeckers
for five hundred rainy seasons.
— Ursula K. Le Guin
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Shadows In The Canyon Leave a comment
Shadows In The Canyon — Image by kenne
The sun hit the sides of the rock, creating shadows that swallowed the canyon trail as we hiked the canyon.
Looking left and right, we took a deep breath to appreciate where we are.
There are certain places that have the energetic power to serve as a teacher.
The canyons of the Santa Catalina Mountains are exactly that.
It’s a place that requires no words but can provide untold lessons.
It’s a place that will challenge your perspective without asking anything from you.
— kenne
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A Fall Hike On Mt. Lemmon Leave a comment
A Fall Hike On Mt. Lemmon — Image by kenne
A POEM IS A MOUNTAIN
a poem is a mountain
high above the city,
a place of contrasts,
filled with periods of
rain, snow and drought.
a poem is a mountain
filled with expressions of time,
filled with seasons
filled with life and death.
a poem is a mountain
growing old without pity
where God touches earth
bringing forth new life
changing earth’s colors.
a poem is a mountain
where rocks mark places,
silence bringing on sound,
directing the eye
to things not seen —
only then does the
mountain become a poem
— kenne
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San Pedro Valley Panorama 2 comments
San Pedro Valley As Viewed from the Santa Catalina Mountains — Panorama Image by kenne
the valley below
is a view to be captured
so it can be shared
— kenne
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Forest Floor Leave a comment
Forest Floor — Abstract Art by kenne
Moisture tends to bring out the colors
of old dried wood helping to color the
forest floor during the mountain rains.
— kenne
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Hiking to Manning Camp Leave a comment
Moonrise Over The Black Mountains — Photo-Artistry by kenne
We reached Mica Mountain as the sun was setting and set up camp two hours out from Manning Camp; our expected goal where we would get water and spend the evening. However, we did not have enough water to spend two nights in the mountains, so we decided we would turn back in the morning. Before setting up camp we watched the sunset and the moonrise.
Cold out! Feels like winter as we crawl into our sleeping bags. It must be the altitude. The full moon provided light, no warmth. The night was long. The tarp above us was attached at only three corners since Tom wanted one loose to flop in the wind, making noise that would keep the bears away.
After a long night of wind-driven noise and cold temperatures, we broke camp early to arrive back at the trailhead before the expected temperatures in the mid-nineties. As we reached a lower elevation, we could contact Tom’s wife, Pat, to give her our expected arrival time at the trailhead. Once we got our stuff in the car, all we could think of was going to Risky Business for a cold beer and French fries with mayo.
— kenne
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A Morning Walk In The Canyon 3 comments
Lower Sabino Canyon Panorama (October 5, 2022) — Photomerge by kenne
I walk alone in the early morning
heading up a canyon trail
toward the mountains; the dust
rises from my steps better defining
the trail for hikers to follow.
The saguaros along the trail
reach the sky from the basin floor
as hikers pass by soon to return
to avoid the midday heat —
what were you expecting?
For the day does not hover,
not even for a moment
as the sun rises overhead,
the scars of my hiking remain
embedded in my thoughts
refusing to grow feeble, just old.
— kenne
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Sycamore Canyon Painting Leave a comment
Sycamore Canyon Painting — Photo-Artistry by kenne
I think back
Hiking the canyon
Up and down.
— kenne
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Italian Springs Trail Panorama Leave a comment
Italian Springs Trail Leading To The Base Of Mica Mountain In The Rincon Mountains East Of Tucson (March 18, 2013) — Panorama by kenne
set camp at the top
needing a restful night’s sleep
watching the sunset
— kenne
Sunset from Mica Mountain — Image by kenne
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Baby Jesus Trail In The Catalina Mountains Leave a comment
Baby Jesus Trail Near Catalina, AZ — Panorama by kenne created by merging three images in Photoshop
This trail is one of several hiking trails on the southwestern slopes of the Santa Catalina Mountains.
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Standing At Nature’s Alter 2 comments
Standing At Nature’s Alter — Image by kenne (Monday Morning Milers — August 29, 2011)
Standing at Nature’s Alter
When we stand at the
altar of nature,
we stand with the greats;
Ralph Waldo Emerson,
Henry David Thoreau,
and John Muir,
each having helped define
our relationship
with nature and language —
“Every natural fact is a symbol
of some spiritual fact,
. . . words are signs of natural facts.”
Nature’s beauty becomes
a source of spiritual energy
connecting all things
into a universal whole
with the power of our
thoughts and will.
We stand at nature’s altar
not separate from her,
seeing us in the flowers,
insects, animals, mountains,
creating a unified landscape
of our inward and outward senses.
Like all relationships,
the experience depends
on the degree of harmony
between us and nature,
therefore becoming a gift
granted while walking with nature
as she is embraced in our minds –
Enlighten, she shares her secrets,
making the universe more “transparent.”
Yet, the gift may only offer a glimpse,
to be shared in images and words,
charming all living things.
— kenne
Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. — John Muir
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Arizona Madrone At Sunrise Leave a comment
Arizona Madrone At Sunrise — Image by kenne
Arizona madrone is a small tree, sometimes a large shrub, found in the mountains of southeastern Arizona,
southwestern New Mexico, and northern Mexico. It can reach heights of 50 feet. The trunks of these
trees are gray and checkered, and the branches are reddish with smooth bark.
Arizona madrones are found in canyon bottoms and hillsides in oak-pine zone at elevations of 4,000 to 8,200 ft.
Look for this handsome tree while hiking in the mountains around Tucson.
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Invoking the Full Meaning of Life 6 comments
I’m Just A Traveler In Other People’s Reality — Image by a Fellow Higher On The Trail
Invoking the Full Meaning of Life
How best to express sharing new life
when each moment deserves its face.
What seems apropos for the moment,
when the next moment fosters a unique experience.
Is it in a number?
The number of days?
The number of thoughts?
The number of heartbeats?
The number of turns?
The number of prayers?
. . . you can count the ways,
only to still not know life’s score.
Is it in a word?
Loving?
Caring?
Sharing?
Giving?
Sheltering?
Words to communicate thoughts and feelings
when manifested in knowledge and experience.
Or is it in art?
Transforming thought,
expressing feeling,
experiencing emotions and
the desire to evoke life,
even when distance
appears to separate a lifelong bond.
I wrote this in the 1990s. Since then, retirement and moved 1,000 miles from where we had spent 25 years, putting distance between bonds. In the twelve years since moving, we have watched the bonds drift away, causing me to question the desire to evoke life, even when distance can’t separate a lifelong bond.
We moved to the Sonoran desert with the illusion that friends and family would be beating a path to our new home in the desert southwest — not such luck. So we try staying in touch through social media, often questioning whether the bonds were ever real — confirming that we remain tourists in other people’s reality.
I once read a posting by blogger Old Jules, “These damned ego-warts.”
Old Jules was a 70-year-old hermit, living with three cats somewhere in the Texas Hill Country and writing a blog I enjoyed reading from time to time. Old Jules, who passed away April 21, 2020 at 74, had concluded that he has spent over a third of his life “being insignificant in the lives of others.”
In 1992, after 25 years of marriage and a career of 20 years, he began a new career and life in Santa Fe.
“All secure in the knowledge the extended family and friends remaining behind were part of my life in which I’d been and remained important.”
Over time he concluded it was all an illusion.
“Kids, young adult nephews, and nieces I’d coddled and bounced on my knee pealed out of my life-like layers of an onion. Most I never heard from again.”
He began to realize that he was merely tolerated, “. . . a piece of furniture in their lives.”
Over time he rebuilt his life with a more potent dose of skepticism concerning his worth and place in the lives of others, which resulted in his becoming a hermit.
“I no longer assume I’m important in the lives of other human beings and get my satisfaction in knowing I’m at least relevant to the cats.
Because cats, though sometimes dishonest, aren’t capable of the depth and duration of dishonesty humans indulge regularly.”
Old Jules had come to believe “. . . that life is entirely too important and too short to be wasted in insignificance.”
His new awareness of life is now in teaspoon measurements, “. . . measured in contracts with cats not equipped to lie. A determination in the direction of significance measured in teaspoons of reality,
as opposed to 55-gallon drums of dishonesty and self-delusion.”
“Teaspoons, I find, don’t spill away as much life in the discovery
when they’re found to be just another ego-wart of pride and self-importance.”
Bonds, illusion or not, have difficulty being when the moments are separated by time and distance, becoming gleams of light, for an instant, in the long night.
I understand where Old Jules was coming from and feel his disillusionment. There is, however, a binding force that comes from a homesick longing to be whole, to have completion, as Plato described in the myth of the human halves passionately striving towards one. Like all mythical totalities, humans are subject to the triple dramaturgical rhythm of primal completeness, separation catastrophe, and restoration. The most significant attraction effect occurs between the second and third acts of life’s drama, which is where I find myself today — maybe this is also where Old Jules is. I am learning to understand myself from a new divide, one half experienced, the other inexperienced — in such a way that I’m learning to understand myself in new ways.
But then, there are the darn cats!
Kika, what do you think?
Kika (She passed away December 10, 2011.)
![Zographus regalis cuprea [Cameroon]](https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/52783978513_e3da275118_s.jpg "Zographus regalis cuprea [Cameroon]")
Becoming is Superior to Being 