Art, Poetry, books, novels

Sunday, October 7, 2012

Found Soul Hiking




 Haikus, poems, thoughts from hiking yesterday's rejuvenation trail. Saturday I hiked Ice House Canyon and up Mount Baldy over Devil's Backbone by myself. I was feeling "moody" earlier in the week. I know that giving myself a goal, something to look forward to, a challenge and the amazing variety and beauty of Angeles National Forest would clear my head, bones and Soul.


I captured about 80 good photographs yesterday. Posting some of the average ones because, well people seem to borrow and forget to credit...  
I'm spoiled, it isn't difficult to see nature in glory by just walking. I am sharing some of my fun with you, I got back on center.


Abandoned standing ~ hold out icycle words ~ roof  keeps my soul safe.

Hand never let go ~ the belay surely will fail ~ bones crumple to shale.



Across the canyons ~ the haze tells me to hurry ~ before it grows dark.
Spines remind that my boots are only made of fake hemp, plastic laces and rubber tire souls.
I knew the pin oaks wouldn't fail me. They light the sky before the days grow short. It is as if they knew I was on my way to visit. Wishing I owned a red cape and brought a basket.

Old fire damage on fallen trees is more sculptural than natural slides. Just as lightening can make landscape into dazzling energy.

Composite rock flows ~ looks like this boulder enjoyed  ~ water stroking him.
He is a devil ~ a tough dinosaur spine climb  ~ thanks clouds for no snow.
 I brought my ten essentials: a switch blade, rappelling ropes, caribiners, matches and lighter, epipen, phone & camera, sunscreen and hat, compass, water and more water, first aid stuff. I can always find my soul when I'm hiking.

copyright reserved Caroline Gerardo 2012
 Mount Baldy, Angeles National Forest California October 6th


Friday, October 5, 2012

Sentimental

Sentimental
 
Taking a break from working, usually marching through duties keeps me from running off the railroad tracks, but I keep returning to that funky thing I called “sentimental.” 
 In response, you said, "that can mean many things- ."
 
"Yes I know. I’m not maudlin but back looking, sometimes with glasses that color courage. "
 
"Sentimental what?"
 
Normally I think I can do anything, and instead I today want to write this weak whiny poetry and curl up somewhere and ache. I’m flopping in emotions. Telling you about my experience as a girl was both cathartic and ghost stirring. You are an amazing friend and I am happy that I trust you.
What you shared with me about your life makes me want to create a magical story that heals everything, knowing that is dumb, but plinking away on the keyboard at it anyways. I have a pretty good aim with a 22 at a tiny tuna can from afar.  At this time, I'm braving and  trying to change the universe with one more drop, one last fallen leaf saved with glycerin and painted new.
Needing a hug and want to thank you kindly for listening but going to leave this unsent, unspoken. Fall is my favorite time of year, but Catholic Confession seems to be tugging me down some Roman aqueduct.
Therefore, I’m driving to Claremont to climb up Mount Baldy and doing either Devils’ Backbone and/or the San Antonio Falls Loop by myself late today. The trees are shaking their Fall leaves and I’m sure to get some lovely photographs, and I pray write something brilliant.
My ex-husband is picking up the children for once in a Harvest Moon. I let go that past a long time ago, but God knows in the next life he'll pay.  I’m not telling the kids about me going overnight with just a day pack and sleep roll. They get weird about me hiking by myself. I stand tall at five foot one, crossing my fingers knowing the doing makes me feel invincible. Call out the reinforcements if I lose my way.