Sleeping pool at Mossy Falls.
It occurred while I was on the way home after spending an afternoon at the base of a mind-numbingly, beautiful waterfall that is located halfway up the side of a small mountain in my backyard.
I had visited the discrete, little mountain creek with plans to conduct a brook trout survey at the skinny end of my flyrod.
The clear water was captivating, and as I sat there on the wet, mossy rocks, my sense of senses changed. I felt the soft mist on my face, and I could smell the pine scent. The air somehow seemed sweeter, and the gentle rustle of wind on the leaves was tangible. Sunrays glistened on the water as small rainbows appeared to dance above the tumbling falls.
I traveled to the deep woods to get away for a day and to escape the din of a dozen chores left undone. I was tired of the unrelenting concerns about what comes next. I needed time alone. Bugs be damned, bring on the brookies was my battle cry!
The woods and waters, and to a limited extent the mountains have always provided a place where humans can go to escape the regular drudgery of everyday life.
I’ve always believed the escape is not actually due any specific physical location, but rather it’s more likely a result of the long journey that’s typically required to get there.
The more demanding the access, the more I enjoy it. In isolated confines, it’s easier to attain true mental freedom, especially when there’s no one, and nothing around to interrupt you. In such special places, thoughts pour quickly, and deep thinking comes easy.
Sounds and sense, touch and feel are amplified when there are no distractions. In such places, it much easier to hear your inner thoughts, and to let the flowing waters rinse them away.., far, far, away.