Church of the Grand Canyon

I awoke this morning feeling called back to this place where I had asked of my self, "Why are you walking so fast?" And when I had slowed to a pace where the rest of me caught up, my body started crying and looked out through the forest scrub across to this visita where I found this bonsai tree looking back and watching me cry.

The funny thing is that all of the other trees that spoke to me (and invited me out on to their ledge) later along my spirit walk along the rim were trees just above this bonsai, the tree that teaches patience and how to allow the tree itself to inform her own growth and shape.

I am the bonsai tree, scruffy and unkempt, and badly in need of trimming. I am the tree where life and death coexist. I am the tree centered yet unbalanced, and the tree balanced even though it's uncentered. And I am also the tree unravelling the twisted layers. These trees are me, and I am one with them. . . .and now they are calling me home. . . .

This morning my body awakened itself into an undeniable longing to be among these trees, out upon this ledge doing yoga with the"rosy fingers of dawn" rising up across this canyon. . .  . . .

I think I may have finally found my church :)