When I seek spirituality I go to the Olympics. I wash my face in the wild, cool water of melting glaciers while visions of my childhood play in my head... walking barefoot along the Duckabush, or picking mushrooms with my dad in the sunbeams that shine between towering conifers on a mountainside, the benign ancient giants and tiny fairy worlds of moss and columbines. Then I open my eyes and see my own children running and climbing on oversized tree stumps, in the glittering fragility of their own childhood, in the newness of today, of innocence not yet lost. In these moments the mystery of the endless circle of life opens itself before me and closes again. I feel whole and content though lost in the inexplicable.















