Lost in the Alpine Wilderness; where whales can't swim and the roots run deep

The sun was already on my face as the alarm went off. 7:30 am. I can sleep a little bit longer. It rang again. 7:45 am. I could sleep a little longer, but Olallie told me to wake up and I've learned long ago to respect the waters when they speak to you. After a short walk along the hillside with a friend who couldn't comprehend the concept of judgement, much less pass it upon me, I was ready to depart.

The ride was the kind of uneventful situation that once time has taken it's vengeance I will look back upon and miss. I'm sure that there were more pressing matters for each us, the things life tells us we should talk about, but in the end the small talk was more important. We spoke about nothing of value, but in the absence of content you could find decades of struggle, contentment and pride.

As we reached the end of the road, pockmarked in pot holes and left in disrepair for the only ones who travel it care not for the concrete or asphalt, you could still hear the sound of the highway beneath us. Only a mile under us and it seemed like a lifetime away. The subtle hum of the cars was soon replaced by the whispering of the trees.

In the stranger parts of the world voices come from places you wouldn't expect. This was one of those places. While the pristine aspects of it's power have long been trampled away by those who couldn't begin to fathom the depths of their own footsteps, there is an underlying spirituality and oneness with existence that even an army of logging trucks couldn't remove from this land. It knows who you are before you come and who you'll be when you leave, a secret it holds within the ferns and only reveals through riddle and mystery.

Words are useless in the wilderness; in the alpine the air is far too thin for them to carry any weight. They are but a burden of our urbane life that we carry with us because we've lost the ability to communicate without them. We clung to them for the initial ascent, but as soon as the sound of burning gasoline faded, so did our need for them. We spoke only with our roots.

As I rounded a switchback an image appeared in the distance, a great humpback whale, gliding among the branches as if they were made of kelp and not pine. I stared in fascination, completely enthralled with the sight before me, when a jarring voice broke me from my trance. It was not the kind of voice that you hear, but one whose genesis is found inside you, somewhere you can never see.

"This isn't the place for whales. Don't bring them here where they cannot swim."
"I didn't bring the whale, it appeared to me."
"It appears for your benefit, not for ours. It doesn't belong here."
I knew they were right.

I often traveled ahead, much as children do, knowing that when I reached the bend I would have to stop and wait. I could have slowed my pace, but it seemed easier to take those moments of calm than to slow my progress overall. 

"You still haven't left it behind."
"I don't want to leave it behind."
"You don't have to leave it forever, just while you're here."
"But what if it isn't there when I get back?"
"It might not be, but he will always be there."
There was no longer a distance between us and I continued to move forward.

The trail continued to cross back upon itself. Occasionally we'd pass a spectacular waterfall that we easily ignored. Talapus spoke my name. "It will always be there on the way back," he reassured me. I still wasn't sure it would be, but I had no right to question faith in this place, it only had the right to question me.

"Our roots run deep beneath the earth, so do yours."
"I am only learning to communicate with my roots. I don't know how to see all the words."
"Your roots are less visible to your eyes, but they are evident to ours."

We stopped at a fork in the trail, to eat a sandwich and rest. One direction took us to our destination, the other unknown. As I chewed the ham and cheddar I thought about the other path, fantasized where it led. Could there be a lake even more remote? A stream not before witnessed in it's current incantation? The possibilities continued to haunt me as we continued on our way to Olallie.

Once again I took the lead, but this time I didn't wait. There were no longer divergent paths and enough years had passed that I knew I'd have to return here again. I passed the face of Olallie and didn't as much as hesitate. "It will always be there on the way back." The trail became far more demanding, rising and falling as it weaved along the shoreline. The ground became less stable and mud rose higher from the waters edge, never so much that it covered my boots, but just enough that it was evident where I'd been. I stared back, completely opposite from my original destination and decided it was time to go back.

"It was good of you to visit us."
"I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer."
"You'll be here forever now."
"I'm starting to realize that now."

When I returned he was already waiting for me. "I figured if I waited long enough, you'd show up here." "Sorry, I went ahead." "Don't apologize." We stared at the water for some time in silence before heading back. Often times the return journey is the easier part, the ghosts that spoke to me had other plans. The trail left behind was still fresh in my mind and I said I was going to break off for a bit and see where it went. "You'll find me at Talapus, I'll be waiting."

"You leave him behind, but for what?"
"There is more that you can tell me."
"More than you are ready to hear."
"I can prove myself to you."

A small waterfall was the first obstacle along the new path. It was crossable, but not without it's challenges. Then, for a short while it was flat and non descriptive, the same as hundred other trails I'd been on before. After a quarter of a mile, I only found a crossroads, one side going off into the distance, the other up higher along the ridge. I didn't even ask the advice of my surroundings before trudging up.

I went much further than I'd originally expected to go, up the most arduous trail I'd been on thus far. As I crested over the ridge the whale appeared before me again and the image faded away. I stood looking around, contemplating every inch of my surrounding. The trees were thinner up here, but life could still be found on everything. A small thicket of ferns blew gently in the breeze.

"Excuse me, how much further do I have?"
"Oh, the lake? Yes, yes, the lake, it is near and distant, that is where the whales live."
"I was told the whale don't live in the forests here. They told me it's only here for me"
"Aw they don't but they do, they do, they don't. It is for you."
 "Is it far?"
"Aw yes, far, very far, the distance, is far. But, aw yes, so close."

I thought for a moment about running as fast I can, sprinting over exposed roots and jumping the broken pieces of rock. I thought about getting to the lake and diving head first into the waters, baptizing myself in their purity and forgetting about everything to come and everything that's been. I thought about casting off any semblance of obligation to the world outside this wilderness. Then I thought about my roots and him waiting along the shores of Talapus.

"Well it will have to wait for another day, I have to get back down."
"It might be here again, it might not."
"I have faith it will be here again."
"Faith is your only asset, and your only weakness. Can you trust faith?"
"For now, that's all I can do."

I sped back down the trail, nearly running to catch up. I knew I wouldn't be left behind, but I also didn't want to leave him waiting. I'd already indulged myself for far too long. I became reckless in my pursuit, leaping over the falling water and disregarding cautious sections of trail as irrelevant to me. I could hear them crying all around me.

"Slow down. You're in no rush."
"I need to catch up, I took too much time."
"Slow down. You're in no rush."
But still I ran.

I was still a few hundred feet from Talapus when he came into view. "You got me before the lake. Find anything interesting?" "It was beautiful, but not really what I was hoping for right now." We continued on, oblivious to our surroundings so much so that we passed the turnoff for the lake. "Maybe it isn't really there on the way back." "Don't be silly, we can always just turn around again."

"You know he's right."
"I know. He usually is."
"Remember what he said, you can always turn back. Remember."

We sat on fallen trees. We didn't speak. We didn't need to. After enough time had passed we continued on. The trail head was near, and I could almost hear the interstate again.

"I trust you will find us again."
"Anytime you call me, I'll come."
"Remember to bring your roots, without them we cannot speak."
"I will carry them with me always."

‎"Are you blind? --- Perhaps you need a baptism of pepper spray in your eyes to restore your vision."

As many of you probably know at this point Tuesday evening there was an unfortunate confrontation between Occupy Seattle protesters and the Seattle Police Department. In the altercation a pregnant woman, an 84 year old woman and a priest were all victims of pepper sprays. Here is the statement released by Rev. Rich Lang of University Temple United Methodist Church:

A PASTORAL LAMENT FOR MY COUNTRY

America, America, my country ‘tis of thee,

Sweet land of liberty

Of thee I sing

America, oh America

America the Beautiful has fallen.

You could feel the tension and raw energy crinkling throughout the air as the marchers once again began their journey into downtown Seattle. The Occupy Movement is the prophetic voice of God calling out to the nation to “repent” and turn from its ways of corruption. Those who camp are a rag-tag, motley crew made up of mostly young adults, mostly unemployed, almost all of whom are alienated and cast out of America’s promise of liberty and justice for all. They are our canaries, the first fruits being devoured by the Beast of Empire.

The police were once conceived to be a citizen force created to serve and protect the public. Today however, the police have been militarized and view the populace as enemy combatants, as threats to their well being. The police, like our Armed Forces, are well trained, disciplined and exceptionally talented. They follow a chain of command and are increasingly apprenticed into a culture of institutional conformity. Because America has always affirmed the right of dissent, the role of the police is to keep the peace. They are trained to enter the protesting arena as unfeeling protectors of property and people. What has changed in our time is that the police are entering the arena of protest as agents of provocation. They push and shove at will, they ride their bicycles up the backs of protesters, they engage in verbal abuse. Their commanders allow this breach of discipline. Their comrades silently condone the bullying. The police become the agitators encouraging violence. It is as if they are spoiling for a fight --- a fight mind you against the citizenry, against the youth, the unemployed, and those who are trying to return America back to its promise, and dare I say it, return America to its covenant with God, “we hold these truths to be self evident …”

On Tuesday night a small group of the rag-tag campers of Seattle’s Occupy Movement left their camp to protest the destruction inflicted upon the Wall Street Occupy site. Throughout the march I, as a Pastor in full clergy alb, stole and cross, acted as a peacekeeper placing myself between the police line and the Occupy Movement. On four occasions I stepped between verbal battles between the police and the protesters. The point being that it was evident to all who I was and what my role was in this non-violent march of the few escorted by the many.

The incident was minor in nature. A girl, dressed in Anarchist black waving the Anarchist black flag was plastered side by side with an officer on the bike. They were jawboning each other. At one point her flag was thrust in his direction --- a provocation yes – threatening?—no. The officer grabbed the flag and in the pulling, pulled down the girl. Her friends reacted jumping in to pull her away from the officer. It was at this point that the first wave of pepper spray went off.

Point --- one might think the officer acted within reason, that the officer was suddenly threatened. But with what? By whom? The friends of the offender were grabbing for the girl, they were not grabbing at the police. Basically the officer, and his comrades, were trigger happy as if they couldn’t wait for just this moment. And so the spray went forth.

I leapt to the front and tried to place myself between the parties --- with spray in the air the protesters were also fleeing. Separation between the police line and the protesters was clearly visible … there was certainly no threat of the “mob” suddenly rampaging into the well armed police. The separation had occurred (as can be clearly seen on the video captured by King 5 News). But the spray continued. I walked between the lines, I was alone, I was in full clergy dress, everyone knew who I was and what I was --- with the protesters fleeing and the police line holding --- with my back to the police and my hands waving the protesters to get back --- alone in full alb, stole and cross --- six officers turned their spray on me thoroughly soaking my alb and then one officer hit me full throttle in the face.

I praise the courage and compassion, the discipline and the decency of the Occupy Movement. Out of the rag-tag mob came help, grabbing my hands, leading me (I was blind by then) to the wall and administering care and concern for my well being. The protesters were assembled around all the wounded, and maintained the discipline of nonviolence (granted the nonviolence was in behavior but not language). And they were not afraid. The spraying had been a baptism sealing them into the security of knowing that their prophecy of repentance was indeed the Spirit-Word through them --- it is as if they did not prophecy their very bones would melt within them. Against the wall in increasing pain and burning I realized I was in the midst of church.

The police, on the other hand, were afraid. Their quick use of chemical warfare reveals how cowardly they are. The unwillingness of their commanders to maintain discipline reveals how incompetent they are becoming --- the only tool in their bag is brutality and like a drunken raging father beating wife and kids, the police have increasingly disgraced themselves. Step by step they are being shaped into the front face of fascism, the emerging police state that protects the property interests of the Marie Antionette’s who have seized control of our government, commerce, media, military and increasingly the Church itself.

My question to my clergy colleagues is this: Where are you? How much longer can you preach without practice? How dare you remain protected in your sanctuary while your people (the rag-tag mob of the least, last and lost whom Jesus loved) are slaughtered doing that which God has commissioned you to do (prophecy!). Where are you? Who have you become in this age of baptism by pepper spray? Do you not know how much power you have to stop our national descent into chaos? Don’t you realize that the world is your parish and right before your eyes the Spirit of God is doing a new thing? Can’t you hear that God’s judgment is upon the land? God is against the thieves that bankrupted our nation. God is against the armies of the Beast who pillage other lands in our name, and turn and destroy our people on our own soil. Are you blind? --- Perhaps you need a baptism of pepper spray in your eyes to restore your vision.

And to the police I say this --- there are always the brutal ones in our midst. As colleagues you have the moral responsibility to police your own. If your commanders order you to brutalize your people you have a Higher Command that says, “disarm yourself, turn away from your sin, renounce the orders of unrighteousness.” And in doing so, cross the line, come over and join us because we are the winning side of history. And we welcome your repentance and heal you of your shame.

And to the church, beloved church I say, you cannot sing the hymns of faith if you are too afraid to live that faith. In Amos it says to silence your sacred assemblies and let JUSTICE burst forth. Our nation, with the nations of the world, are under an assault of tyranny and treason of the 1% against creation itself. You may not worship God until and unless you care for the image of God living in those tents and prophesying on your behalf. Once the Powers sweep the Tents away, if you dare to lift your voice even a peep, you too will be swept away. But the destiny of the church, the Body of Christ, is not one of quiet passivity and fear, our destiny is to bear witness having no fear of the Cross because even now we have crossed over into resurrection.

Rev. Rich Lang

University Temple United Methodist Church

Back in 1999 I was in a very similar place during the WTO protests in Seattle. I was photographing the situation for my college news paper and in an effort to get the best possible pictures I found myself in the middle of 4th and Pike, near a set of burning dumpsters, police fortified to the south, protesters to the north, when the canisters were deployed. The gas consumed everything. It was only a matter of moments before my eyes burned with a fury I've never felt before and I was blind. I stumbled around, unable to see who or what I might run into, when I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders. I turned towards the person when suddenly a rush of water came over my face and I could see again. I looked at the man in front of me, searching for the right words, they never came. I said something like, "thank you so much." All he replied was, "we've got to stick together."

It was because of this memory that Rev. Lang's account really hit home for me. I can't thing of a more appropriate description of the event than to call it a baptism.

Things are getting desperate out there and it's only a matter of time before we can't ignore it any longer. As Lang said so well, "They are our canaries, the first fruits being devoured by the Beast of Empire." This is only the beginning and now that it has taken this path I'm not sure there is any stopping it. There will be more stand offs and more people will be victimized defending their right to speech. Don't just look away because it's unpleasant.

Photo: SeattlePI.com, Joshua Trujillo / AP

An open letter to the Occupy Movements of the Pacific Northwest

With the arrests made across the country, and specifically here in Seattle, the Occupy Movement is starting to get the media attention it deserves, however it is still plagued by a lack of direct vision. There is now a proposed list of demands on the Occupy Wall Street website. I like that they're trying to get a cohesive message out, but unfortunately this fails miserably at best.

After reading through the list, which at times is blatantly contradictory, I realized that all of these demands are unattainable within our current system of government. Given the political divisions that exists and the external money influencing the process it is impossible to move forward with even the most basic of these demands. Demand #2 is a perfect example of that, we all remember how the healthcare debate played out in Washington DC.

Now those of you in the Seattle movement are beginning to work on your own set of demands, which I fully support. The demands of the people in the Northwest are sure to be different than those on the east coast or elsewhere in the country. Of all the ideas you are discussing there is one strangely absent that could essentially solve all of them with one single blow, succession.

All of my long time followers of this blog know that I am a strong advocate for an independent Cascadian state and I believe now is the perfect time to ask "Why not?" The unrest at the heart of the current protests is very real, yet our government still does nothing. How long are we going to tolerate it?

This is the perfect opportunity to take this movement and give it a clear and solid direction that has the power to make life better for all of us. Now I understand that this idea seems crazy and even downright frightening. How could we possibly transition ourselves out of the union and create our own system of governance being that we’ve become so entrenched in our current place? I’m not saying that it something that would be easy, however the benefits far outweigh the risks.

So instead of occupying our cities, let's liberate them. We seem to have forgotten that our cities are already occupied, and that's the problem.


- "The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion." Albert Camus

Can you smell the Fragrance?

Great weekend all around.

Friday night I went over to P's for some pizza and a bottle of Jameson. It wasn't long before we ended up going over to Sully's. I took some pictures, but apparently I'd had a few too many ales and none of them turned out too well. What I really wanted was a picture of the bartender, because she's the best reason to go there. Not only was she unbelievably beautiful but really friendly, up until I asked if I could take her picture. At least I asked right?

One of the things we talked about at the bar was going up to Bellingham and doing a little hike. I woke up Saturday around 12 and it was about an hour later that P showed up at my place. Kaz called just in time and we swooped him up too.

The ride up was pleasant. P was a little aggressive, but it led to some comical events. The main reason for going to Bellingham was because P wanted to get some soap. So we hit up Otion only to find they didn't have what he was looking for.

So we bombed south on the Chuckanutt Drive, great views, to Larrabee State Park. Now I chose this hike because it was under 5 miles and I didn't want to destroy my body since I'm pretty out of shape. I should have paid more attention to the elevation gain. We went up 1000 feet in about 1.5 miles. It destroyed me, but I did it. Strange thing, on the way up we found a shoe in the wilderness:

The lake was pretty cool. The water was so still that the trees reflected perfectly on the surface.

There were also some GIANT rock formation, these pictures really don't do them justice

We had decided to skip the viewpoint on the way up, hoping that it would be more spectacular on the way back since the sun would be closer to the horizon. We were right. Here's the view of Samish Bay, Lummi Island, and some of the San Juans.

After the hike we stopped by Angel of the Winds for some food and the end of the Huskies game (GO DAWGS!!!).

Major shout out to P and Kaz for the great company.

It's time to cut a rug and throw the deuce up in the sky

Y'all should read this. It's pretty much what I was talking about earlier this week...

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