Member-only story
Claremont Canyon
Following the ups and downs of the ridge, and my thoughts
Friday afternoon, I launched myself from my desk, driven by a restlessness in my body and an urgent command inside me to move. I’ve suffered from a painful, tight right shoulder for more than two months now. I can’t get the muscle between my shoulder and my neck — the trapezius, I believe — to let go for the life of me. It’s my body, rebelling, as my body always has, when I need to stop, look around, and assess. My mind, my heart, and my spirit channel their clamor through my body, forcing me to attend to or at least consider their needs.
These days, my body is driving me to walk much more than ever before. It forces me to get outside, on the ridge top, beneath the trees, beneath the hawks with their expansive wings, their sensitive wingtips, beneath the cypress, the eucalyptus, the grand, massive oaks, and of course the peaceful, contemplative redwoods.
So, there I found myself on Friday, behind the Claremont Hotel in Berkeley, on the surrounding residential streets with their breathtaking semi-mansions, on the approach to the trailhead. I coaxed my body to relax, to get into the swing of things. I allowed my breath to find its rhythm, to discover its cadence, one that could keep me going for hours.
