During
this COVID19 quarantine things everywhere are pretty much shut down and because
of that feeling of being stuck, trapped even, I like to dream of traveling. I
love water so waterfalls are a wonderful place to be to experience calm. It’s
kind of ironic to think that the turbulence and violence of water falling over
rocks brings calm to me, but it does. Part of it is the soft spray it creates,
the constant rainbows of hope, the constant motion, and the steady rushing
sound that contrasts to my own stillness as I observe and listen.
Right
now I’m envisioning Multnomah Falls in Oregon and the Columbia Gorge. While it’s
certainly a tourist trap because of its proximity to Portland (just before the gorge
opens up to the Willamette Valley if you’re going west on the Columbia River or
driving west on I-84), it is also a space of outdoor adventure, albeit crowded.
Right now I imagine it to be much less crowded, if not completely closed. I don’t
even know the name of the stream that serves as a tributary for the mighty
Columbia, I simply know it crashes down from the southern Cascade wall of the
gorge. There is an iconic bridge that crosses that stream a few paces up the
hill from where you park. It’s a foot bridge that is easily seen from the
parking lot or freeway and you almost never pass by without seeing someone
standing on that bridge looking up at the falls, usually getting misted with a
fine spray from the crashing waters.
This
waterfall is surrounded by lush green, temperate rain forest. That green is
probably part of why I so long to see it now because I know by the typical
climate of this time of year in that part of the country that it would be lush
and blossoming. While I typically wish to go there at a time when there are few,
if any, people, right now I want to go there when it is so crowded that you
have to drive around the parking lot a few times just to find parking. I want
to be surrounded by people in such a beautiful place and I want all them to be
happy, smiling without masks, commenting on aspects of the hike up the falls,
oblivious to any overriding disease that is killing people throughout the world.
In fact, I want to hear several languages spoken happily. And no, I am not a
lover of crowds, especially crowds in such a place of beauty that they could
possibly destroy, but right now I am in love with the idea of crowds, crowds
that can gather safely, crowds that can enjoy the natural world together,
crowds that are oblivious to danger, and crowds that are happy to be together.
So
today in my mental time away I am going to pack my bags and take that eight-hour
drive to Multnomah Falls in my time of meditation. I am going to stop for a
greasy hamburger at a crowded truck stop somewhere on I-84 and I am going to be
content. I know I can’t do it today in reality, but I do treasure that
waterfall for its natural beauty. And, probably for the first time ever, I
treasure it for its teeming crowds of tourists just arrived from the busy hub
of Portland. Today I am thankful for Multnomah Falls.
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