Transcendence while Hiking at Sabino Canyon

It was a relatively cool day in the middle of Autumn. My girlfriend and I decided that instead of spending the day worrying about the money we didn't have, we would go hiking up through Sabino Canyon and enjoy some fresh air. Things seemed relatively normal on the drive over there. I was feeling a bit irritated for no apparent reason and she was keeping to herself. Upon getting to the start of the trail I noticed that there were no cars parked, there were almost always a few. I let it go, and headed for the trail. A little ways into the dirt path, I found that all of the surrounding trees and leaves seemed to be perfect shades or orange and brown. It was lovely, almost the kind of serenity that one would expect to experience upon being sucked into one of Windows’ default wallpapers. I had a specific stopping point in mind, a little known path that lead to a tree I had noticed on a previous hike. One of it’s main branches hovered over, and eventually dipped into, some icy flowing water that tends to flow around that time of year. The walk there started out casual, and quickly turned to nirvanic. Each step away from the city seemed to be a step closer to peace. I can honestly say that I don’t recall seeing a single human soul out that day, just families of deer that halfway ignored our presence, and halfway avoided our presence. We quickly found ourselves at the tree, barefoot with our feet dangling from the branch, above the cold water. We watched family after family of deer walk by on the opposite side of the stream, casually foraging, until the dimming sky warned us that we had better start getting home. The next day I went to work as usual, but I carrying with me a lingering sense of peace that I hadn't felt in years, a letting go. Now, whenever I go out I look for that peace. I found it in the canyon, but I know I can find it anywhere, as look as I’m looking.


By: Jonathan Terry


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