An Invitation
Photos by Chuck Hoffman © Genesis+Art
Huajatolla Valley
La Veta, Colorado
Nature is a powerful, calming and healing force in my life. Being directly connected to the trees brings me a joyful union of spirit and soul. The clean, fresh mountain air with gentle wafts of smoke from a distant campfire brings a honed presence to my current awareness. The nearby creek sings a constant babble and rhythm that feels alive and sacred. Sacred in its life-giving properties that sustain the forest and its creatures. Lulled into a restful state by the cool breeze that rises once the sun sets behind the trees, I sleep very well to the music of the creek and to the pauses between the midnight notes of the Douglas-firs and the Gambel oaks. The presence of these old trees reminds me of their wisdom and makes me ready for a new day.
We are on our long awaited spiritual and artistic pilgrimage west to spend time in the National Forests and with family and friends. At this time, we find ourselves on the Santa Fe Trail. The route was established in 1821 with the Spanish Peaks as guideposts to travelers along the Mountain and Taos branches of the trail. We used the same visual reference points as our compass to stop and visit friends, Steve and Denise at their cabin sanctuary in this unique landscape. The Spanish Peaks are geologically distinct from the faulted and uplifted mountains of the Sangre de Cristo range to the west. The Ute, Comanche, Apache, and other Indigenous peoples held these twin peaks as sacred and named the mountains Huajatolla (Wahatoya), meaning Breasts of the Earth. A longtime visitor to this valley welcomed us and pointed out with affection that we were staying in the cleavage of these breasts and that it was “an exciting and sensuous place to be.”
I think it fair to say that we humans have a special gift for dreaming about what’s over the edge of our known world. I explore new things, creatively adapt to different circumstances, let new discoveries rise, and continue from there by telling stories about what I found. The stories we tell matter. By spending time observing, touching, listening, and breathing in the natural world I manage to slow myself down, and allow myself to be on earth time, not culture time. That creek I mentioned helped me exhale to its rhythms and meditate with its steady cadence. Hearing the conversations going on between the squirrels gathering pinecone seeds for winter and the chorus of Mockingbird songs took me further through a portal into the world of the forest. All that activity going on around me, inspires hope by helping me to imagine and encourage my interconnectedness to these trees and its creatures. Their invitation pulls me humbly alongside their world and helps me understand that I am but part of the whole.
As Peg and I prepare ourselves to leave this nurturing place to travel north towards Wyoming, we are faced with unprecedented heat and relentless wildfires of this summer. Smoke in the air has hidden vast mountain ranges and is a grim reminder that, no matter where we call home, the climate crisis and a warming planet know no political, geographical, or cultural boundaries. Those sensuous notes of the creek, fragrances of the pine, and how the wind reveals the architecture of the trees will remind me that this living earth is relying on me to do my part to protect it. I’m certain that until we humans realize our interspecies connections and develop new relationships based on those commonalities, the earth will continue to burn. The original peoples already know this, and the earth knows this. Now I can become allies with the trees and work to improve life for all during this epoch in which we live.
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