Mantras, prayers, another reality - these are terms reminiscent of the 60's and one generation's attempt to seek and connect with higher states of consciousness.
I've always been jealous of those that can conform to churches, to organizations and to corporations. These institutions all have their levels of achievement, with mentors, guides and rules. I'll admit that life with all of its uncertainties, needs structure. But for those of us who are seekers, these institutions often are like a drug, waiting to seize our adventurous spirit. Waiting on the sidelines, waiting for us to yell out loud, I give up, show me your Bible, your company, your structure, your church, I'm ready.
It's an irony that those very institutions that seekers avoid, have much to teach about other realities. The Native American church openly seeks altered states with the use of peyote, eastern religions use mantras to alter their consciousness, and western religions use prayer to connect with higher levels of spirituality.
Terms like altered states, mantras, other realities remind us of that thin line that divides what we commonly refer to as reality, and those "other experiences".
The trails leading out of the White Wolf campground in Yosemite National Park are typical of the trails that crisscross the Toulumne meadows at the upper elevations of the park. In the spring or fall months, given the high altitude and lack of easy accessibility, one can find a degree of solitude that can't be found in Yosemite Valley. It's possible to jog for miles without running across another person. And, if one is fortunate, it is also possible to, as the fitness guru George Sheehan describes, to enter "another realty" .
We arrived at White Wolf campground around noon and after setting up camp, it was time to go for a run. The early afternoon sun was soon to be hidden behind some of the magnificent granite peaks that surround the meadows. Jogging off on a well maintained trail, off into a forest, green with majestic pine trees, it was easy to lose a sense of time, and as it turned out, it was easy to cross the boundaries between the everyday world to which I was accustomed and the not so everyday world of the forest.
All my life I've wanted to be more. As a child growing up in the 1950's I wanted more knowledge of how the world works. In the 60's and 70's I wanted more freedom to explore who I was, to let go, to examine different beliefs and different cultures. And in the 80's and 90's I've wanted to be more physically fit, full of energy, able to work and play without taking notice. Underlying my enthusiasm for fitness was an awareness that somewhere, somehow through fitness I would connect with a much deeper part of myself. In fitness there were answers to some of life's questions. With the right combination of exercises, enough sweat, the right frame of mind, the answers to some of these mysteries would be laid forth . . . perhaps on a long run, alone in a forest, in a meditative state, I would hear answers whispered from the trees, from the mountains, and from the streams.
I've been involved in fitness since 1974. The late sixties and early seventies had taken their toll on my body, and by chance, in the mid 1970's a friend had asked me if I wanted to play racquetball. Three days later my muscles still ached, but my spirit had been awakened. Movement, sweat, strain, I had found what I needed, and at a much deeper level, what I was looking for. To feel alive, fully. To feel connected, mind and body, and to have a path for a deeper awareness of self. Racquetball led to jogging, jogging to marathons, marathons to triathlons. Always, there was a sense that I was moving closer to hearing the whisper, somewhere in a forest alone on a wooded trail.
As I began my run out of White Wolf campground, I was aware of the usual warm up aches and pains. Start slow and wait for the first sweat to crack, wait for my body to feel that fluidity that normally comes in twenty five or thirty minutes of running. Wait for my body to first accept, then embrace the run. The minutes glided by and soon without noticing, I was running with the ease of a deer. I felt the boundless energy that comes when all body parts are operating in sync. Minutes slid by, I recall only being aware of how light and full of energy I felt. I was a part of the forest now, in rhythm with the trees, the squirrels and the deers. We were all content doing what we were doing. Occasionally I would cross a chipmunk, or a blue jay, they didn't seem overly startled, and if I stretched my imagination a bit, I'm sure they were thinking to themselves "oh, it's only runner". On nature runs I have a tendency to daydream, to let go, to enjoy my thoughts to the fullest, after all, there are no cars to worry about, no signals to stop for. I remember at one point feeling giddy, the next instant I felt a surge of energy. I accelerated, feeling a sense of power that defies description. All was well. As I glanced at my watch, I realized that it was time to turn around. I had gone further then I had planned, but wasn't concerned. I was excited about how the run was going, and had visions of describing it to my wife who was back at the campground.
The sun had just dropped behind the crest of one of the granite peaks that surround the upper meadows, and with that, the temperature dropped a few degrees. With forty minutes to go I decided to accelerate slightly. I was running the same trail, but now with a slight chill in the air. I had a sense of mission, returning to the campground before the temperature dropped to an uncomfortable level. I continued what was, up until that point, the perfect run.
I'm not sure when I became aware of a something moving behind me, just out of sight, over my right shoulder. I do recall that one moment I was running with speed and grace, the next moment my body was covered with goose bumps. At first I shrugged it off, attributing it to the sounds that are ever pervasive in the forest. The goose bumps that now covered my body were a sign of the dropping temperature, and not an indication that I had sensed something unusual. I continued running not wanting to be distracted. If I focused my attention over my right shoulder, or took a quick glance there was nothing. Yet, if I just ran not taking notice, I couldn't help being aware that something or someone was moving closer, now perhaps twenty to thirty feet to the right and behind me. I could hear, or better yet feel something moving and breathing, almost as if there were an echo of my own running sounds. Again, I took a fast glance to the right, nothing, then back to the business of running.
There has always been a side to me that was prone to the mystical, to eastern thought, to out of the ordinary events. Articles on the Tarahumara Indians of Northern Mexico running up to two hundred miles in a trance like state held more interest for me then the typical "how to" articles that one normally finds in fitness journals.
As I continued my run back to the campground, the pattern repeated itself, relax, run, don't focus my attention, and the object would come closer. Focus my attention, stop, or turn my head abruptly, and it was gone. Within minutes I had the method down, and had determined that I was going to allow whatever it was to come as close as possible. This took an enormous amount of self control, knowing that whatever it was that initially startled me had the potential to frighten the daylights out of me.
I have no way of knowing how much time I spent running with "it". I do know that most of the thirty five minutes that it took to get back to the campground, I spent in what could only be described as an altered state. I had absolutely no sense of time, or sense that I was running. I do recall hearing or feeling a voice, and I do recall feeling lighter then I have ever felt before, as though I was gliding along the winding trail. The run had a dreamlike quality to it, and yet I was fully awake.
As I entered the campground my wife had asked me the usual question "How was the run?" I mumbled "good", and went off to the bathroom to clean up.
That night I lay in the sleeping bag asking myself what happened?, What was that? And for the following few days it was difficult to concentrate, I felt very light headed. I had the impression that I was dreaming, and yet I was awake.
Over the past year bits and pieces of the incident have surfaced to conscious thought, but the overall event is still somewhat of a mystery to me. As best as I can recall, the thirty minutes I spent running in a dreamlike state, was a meeting of sorts, an introduction, and exchange of thoughts. All done on a sensing or feeling level. I don't recall talking out loud, and yet we had a conversation. I don't recall the entity having a face, or body, yet he was there, running just inches behind me to my right. If I were to describe the entity I would have to say it was almost as though my shadow had taken on a life of itself, and that I was running with it. He seemed friendly and helpful, answering my questions as they came to me. The voice can only be described as soft, a whisper of sorts, and male in nature. I remember that although the sun had drifted behind the mountains there was sunlight everywhere. The colors of the trees, the brush, and the sky were richer and deeper then I had ever seen before. The sounds that I do recall hearing were that of my own breathing, very slow and with a noticeable inhale, then an exhale. Even though the event had a dreamlike quality to it, it was as real as any waking state.
I have, up until this point, not told a soul. After all, if someone were to say "hey, I had a great run with a spirit", I think both you and I would be looking for the closest door.
The fact remains though, that running, movement, and other forms of exercise have the potential to open up new channels of thought, and perception. And as the devotees of eastern religion have known for centuries, rhythmic breathing is a form of meditation.
Meditating, moving, rhythmic breathing, alone on a mountain trail and one has the ability to alter their consciousness and cross through what Aldus Huxely describes as the "doors of perception". I consider myself lucky, to perhaps, have opened one of those "doors".
As those that have taken a more traditional road in their development have their priests, mentors, and C.E.O.'s, to talk with and resolve personal issues, I too, now have a private place, where I can go, to work with my guide. It's there in the forest, amongst the trees, along the river banks.
I'm planning my next trip back to Yosemite. And yes, to the same campground, to run the same trail, at the same time of day. I have more questions, and hope, with the right combination of sweat, movement and rhythmic breathing to hear that whisper in the forest once again.
Copyright 1994 by Robert Ross, All Rights ReservedRobert Ross can be reached by e-mail at: SanDiegoRoss@Yahoo.com
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