Shortly after the sun dropped behind the mountains, I set out westward on the trail around McIntosh Lake, huddled in my coat and gloves, walking into nightfall. As the sky darkened, I noticed my shadow stretching out subtly before me. Turning round to see where the light was coming from, I beheld the moon rising in the east, nearly full, bright as a headlamp. It stunned me with its familiar yet mysterious beauty.
For a moment, I was transfixed by the primordial sensation of being completely at home in the world, breathing in the out-breath of plants, the precious air. Just another animal shivering beneath the moon. Inhabiting again the natural habitat of the human body, mind, and spirit—the religion and poetry of nature.