[at-l] Springer's magic

[ATnavi@aol.com]

I feel Springer's magic.

It reaches me in subtleties, from the chatter of the crickets to the full 
moon rising, from the perfect temperatures and clear skies to the rush of the 
breeze through the trees. From the door of my tent, I see the Big Dipper. 
Voices murmur under the moonlight.

The magic reaches me in omens, as well. On the summit, I find a tiny crystal 
of hematite. As I bed down for the night, I see a shooting star.

This is what my first night of backpacking SHOULD have been.

Dreams begin with Georgia granite, stones that yielded to my form like a 
familiar chair, the incredible view of mist-shrouded purple mountains laid 
out before me. Watching the day's last rays of light color the earth. The 
wonder of God's creation.

I sleep on Springer, and I feel blessed. Moonglow illuminates the tent. A 
mild breeze drifts through the windows.

I am one with the mountain.

I belong.

- Navigator 
(journal entry, 25 Sept 99)
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