Rancho San Rafael

On a recent hike through Rancho San Rafael in Reno, Nevada, I found myself acutely aware of the passage of time. The seasonal change from Spring to Summer was all around me: the sound of bull frogs conversing to one another in Herman’s pond; the sight of baby lizards darting from one rock outcropping to another as if in a pinball machine; the feel of the not-so-intense sunlight upon my bare shoulders and legs; the smell of the Earth after a morning rain, damp and musty, full of life. The meandering path I followed was one I had traversed many times before. The well-worn gravel beneath my feet led the way upwards and down for countless other travelers before me, and will be there long after my departure.

It was on this particular trek that I came to a juncture along the path. Rancho San Rafael Park splits into two sections - north and south. A tunnel connects the regional park from the northern side of the McCarran Boulevard loop around the city of Reno to the southern side. I could either continue following the gravel path westward, parallel to a wide-open meadow, or venture forth into the tunnel.  For years, I would get to this manufactured opening in the ground -- and stop. That would be the end of my journey. I would turn around and walk away, letting the apprehension to make my way alone through the tunnel, overtake me. 

Perhaps the Buddha’s “5 Remembrances” inspired me to move through the tunnel:

1.            I am of the nature to grow old.

2.            I am of the nature to have ill health.

3.            I am of the nature to die.

4.            All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change.

5.            My actions are my only true belongings.

On this day, I recognized my physicality was no longer that of a young man; rather, I moved like a man entering his fifth decade. I found a long walking stick. The end of the stick coming in contact with the earth, before I took another step, balanced my forward motion. The roughness of the weathered bark in my hand reminded me that my skin, too, had dried out since moving to the high-desert region some eight years ago. I felt more confident because of this new appendage - a dead limb from a once-vibrant Siberian oak tree. And I ventured forth, capturing these images:     

          

                       

My journey through the tunnel was worth it!