The Passing on of Sacred Experiences

the elders initiate the youngest on the sacred path of Mt. Rainier

Of all the fire mountains which like beacons, once blazed along the Pacific Coast, Mount Rainier is the noblest.”- John Muir

It has come time, to pass on the sacred experiences to my son. This place has been in my family for generations. My great grandma came here to ‘camp’ in the Ohanapecosh Hot Springs. There were cabins then, and now, a pristine meadow surrounding the burbling sulfur water next to the nature trail. My dad talks about trips as a kid, dipping a tin cup into the glacial river for a cool drink on a hot day. I tell stories of the giant stump we used as a tree fort every year, whether it was our campsite or not. I talk about the time in college I camped alone for 3 days, encountering a bear on my hike, and the 10 mile impromptu hike I did with a college chum on another occasion.

I am so tied to this mountain that soon I will get it’s beauty permanently marked on my body. When I die I want my ashes scattered here.

The sacred experience lives inside me. And so, this weekend, we had a meetup with my parents to pass along the wisdom to Potamus. The mountain was socked in. It’s so massive that it creates its own weather patterns. I knew it was there, majestic, behind the mystical fog. I only feel sad for the couple from Boston who was hiking for the day, that they wouldn’t get to see the glory. They seemed content with the view of the Tattoosh range, but they don’t know the glory up close. Like mistaking a statue for God.

We hiked to Myrtle falls with a bunch of other tourists. Potamus ran the .5 miles up the paved trail. We made friends with other ‘hikers.’ We saw a hoary marmot and the last remains of the wildflower season. Is winter coming early to the mountain this year after a glorious summer? When we were thoroughly tired, we explored the ‘new’ Jackson Visitor center. I marveled that I hadn’t been here since it opened in 2008. How could I go 6 years without visiting my spiritual center? Only getting small drinks in from a distance on clear days as I commute across the I-90 bridge.

When I was a child, almost through the end of high school, I wanted to be a park ranger in the Mt. Rainier National park. When I met my biological aunt, many years later, I learned she had. Perhaps this mountain is in my blood as well as in my experience. And now, maybe, it will live in my son’s blood and experience, as well.

batman doesn’t need no trails

stopping to educate himself on the various wildflowers present in this alpine meadow

Myrtle Falls

family portrait

 “The mountain receives our expression and becomes part of us; we imprint our memories on it, and trust it with our dearest divisions of our lives. Mt. Rainier does not exist under our feet. Mt. Rainier lives in our minds.” Bruce Barcott

Penguins have names like Fiona and Tyrone and Louis

Apparently the rest of the country is buried under snow, but here in Seattle we are having GORGOUS weather (complete with sunshine AND warmth!), so we had to get out of the house to do something more exciting than grocery shopping at Costco. So we headed on up to the Woodland Park Zoo to renew our yearly membership and see some animals! Potamus has been obsessed with making animal noises (his particular favorite is the chimpanzee, which I have NO idea where he learned that from…haha).

I realized when we parked, that I had brought a 2 year old to the zoo without a stroller as tired-leg-backup. What’s fun about going places with kids is that it’s new every time. He squealed and pointed and even drew the attention of passerbys who even said “wow, he’s really excited.” I don’t like to stifle his excitement, because FUCK YEAH PENGUINS ARE COOL BABY! I guess I didn’t notice all the ‘well behaved’ (aka quiet) kids at the zoo who ooh and ahh with tiny exasperated adult voices…because my kid has enthusiasm just like his mom.

 

On our way out we stopped back at the penguin exhibit and watched them get fed. I was struck by the zookeeper who was calling out their names as he threw them a fish. Hey Tyrone, here you go! Fiona, you need your vitamins too! Louis, eat the fish, don’t drop it that seagull will get it! I was fascinated, because of course penguins have personalities and you would know them, but I found the names funny. I think a children’s book called “A Penguin Named Tyrone” would be cute. Anyone want to write that?

It’s getting HOT in here

It’s hot in Seattle.
Really hot.
Like, sweaty while blogging in underoos hot.

While the rest of the country has been willing all summer under terrible heat waves, while the PacNW has sailed through unscathed. Not this week, though. This week Seattleites have gotten their come-uppance. We are melting. Mostly melting because only 6 places have air conditioning in the whole county. And one of those places is the mall.

Heat and babies doesn’t necessarily go well together. Potamus has been cranky, waking up approximately 46 times last night and crying like he was being chased by the boogie man. Not cool at all.

But, its days like these that I being thinking about how a mere 6 years ago I was returning from life in India. Returning from a place where air conditioning was a luxury I didn’t have. Granted, I did have a moody reed swamp cooler, and floors built out of stone to keep the heat down, and rickety ceiling fans, so in some ways the technology beat what I’m working with here in Seattle. But not everyone was so lucky.

It’s so easy to forget and acclimate to the goings on around me. 6 years ago 90 degree heat wouldn’t phase me. I’d get my wool socks wet and sleep with a fan blowing on my feet. I’d get my dupatta wet and pull it up on my nearly-nude body like a soaking shroud. How quickly I forget.

Even in high school, in Eastern WA, I had an affinity toward the heat. My car had no AC and I would sometimes drive with the windows rolled up simply because it was college than having 100 degree heat blowing in on me. Band camp and sports practices outside, and putting pants on when it got below 80.

But I also remember back to my young life, in the North Seattle house, where I wore slips to bed and had a big box fan in the doorway to cool it off. Where my mom got our hair wet and put cool washcloths on our heads to soothe the best-headache.

I know there will be a day, probably in November, where I will be missing the warm sunny days. So I am trying to keep cool and not complain. But with a hot, fussy baby, its hard!