My Private Zen.

On warm, hectic days, I escape to the solitude of my own private nature path. Yes, I have my own natural trail- although I don't know who decided to put pavement over the top of it. Ever since I moved to spanish 8 years ago I have fled to the safety this trail (which used to be dirt), with its trickling river bordering the left and a high wall of rock to the right, for protection from an insensitive and often brutish world. 

My trail leads and ends at my dam, violated by graffiti and worn down by the nearly year-round current of water. I have always wondered why anyone would spray paint it, its not anything glamourous and hardly any see it. Most who reach the end of the trail never see the dam, they turn around and head back towards the world that they only momentarily escaped, their purpose for the trip was either the exercise they got from the jog or the scenery of the riverbed below. 

When i feel discouraged, or saddened by my sometimes dreary life, I grab my longboard and soar to the beginning of my trail, then I tear through the layers of masquerade and arrive at my old ugly dam. There I leap across the wide channel to my personal meditation chair. I sit, feeling the warmth of the sun on the back of my neck, listening to the roar of water, the wind rushing down the valley- my very own zen soundtrack.

 I love the strength that my block of cement symbolizes. Although not beautiful, in the case of flood it shines with confidence and protection. Although not glorified, it waits patient and strong, to protect those in its care.