Deadman's Creek

On our first afternoon at the Mountain Learning Center, we discovered a serene spot called Deadman's Creek.  We turned off Hwy. 395 between June Lake and Mammoth, and followed a dirt road back into the forest.  We went several miles without seeing another person, then we parked on a gentle bluff by the creek and started the process of learning to be "intentional" about resting.  We needed this desperately; we were pretty worn out and beat up from all that had taken place in our lives over the past decade. 

So we absorbed the sounds of the forest while we sat quietly for nearly an hour.   Julie did some sketching (which she's done only intermittently over the years), while I wrote some prose-poems, like this one:

Early Autumn on the Eastern Slope

The lingering smell of dust from the fire road fills my nostrils; soft crackling
comes from under the hood as the Jeep’s 6-cylinder engine begins to cool.
Dry mountain air…with just a hint of crispness…tugs at Julie’s hair.
I watch her sketch as we sit on the fallen log. Our seat is hard but suitable.

Scattered pine trees surround the creek-side; their needles fading
to a dull green.
Nearby foliage offers mere hints
of the brilliant gold and orange and yellow yet to come.

Deadman’s Creek bubbles its way downhill, caressing the boulders
it has been stroking for eons.
I close my eyes as the jays squawk in the trees, and I let the music
of Deadman’s Creek sing it’s ancient benediction to my aching soul.

On our last day on the mountain, we had a picnic lunch by Deadman's Creek.  This peaceful spot served as a great "bookend" to our time on the mountain. We discussed the high points of our retreat and prayed together...then headed back to SoCal to begin implementing all that we had learned.  (We'll be sharing more about this in future posts).

- Bruce