Spirit Lake

Spirit Lake

    Far in the North Country, in a land of jagged mountains, ice, and perpetual winds lies Spirit Lake.
      Navajo Indian lore spoke of an iridescent jewel of a lake high in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado. It was said to be as deep as the ocean. Its location was lost in the foggy memory of the ancient medicine man, Bear Paw.
     Running Deer ran like a mountain lion across the barren gravelly brown land of northern New Mexico. Above him was a massive escarpment glowing scarlet in the dying embers of sunset. As he ran, his mind raced too. He could smell the wet windblown dust that harbingered rain.
     The dry yucca and cactus would soon get their monthly allotment of water. Running Deer began his ascent up the escarpment. The sweet scent of burning juniper reached him in the cool desert air. He saw the tent with the old man sitting in front of a smoking pit filled with blue corn in husks whose scent sweetened the evening.
     The old man slowly looked up and softly spoke, “Hi youngster. You must be pretty far from home.
Nobody lives around here.”
     Running Deer sat down and said, “Mind if I stay the night?”
     The old man used a stick to stir the burning coals around the corn and said, “Welcome to my tent.”
     Running Deer crouched by the fire and said, “What’s this about Spirit Lake? What’s the big deal?”
     Bear Paw got up and said, “First the corn.”
     They laid the corn cobs on a rock and shucked them. Then they shared the sweet kernels. After a while, the sky in the dark distance glowed yellow with the flash of lightning.
     They covered the fire with spades full of dirt and retired to the tent.
     Rain battered the tent as the two occupants drank water from wooden cups.
     Bear Paw laid back and said, “Well, it’s time to sleep. In the morning we’ll talk.”
     Running Deer laid back and slept more deeply than he had in years.
     When he awoke, Bear Paw had vanished. Running Deer climbed across some boulders and saw him sitting, gazing across the land with his grey ponytail, weathered face, and deerskin clothes.
     They both looked out across the yellow desert at the ridges in the open space far across the baking plains.
     The old man pointed out to the expanse. He said, “From this point follow the pole star. Then you’ll discover the axis of the universe.”
     Running Deer sat down next to him and said, “What makes Spirit Lake so important?”
     Bear Paw touched his turquoise jewelry and said, “It makes you strong, invincible. Bathe in it and all encumbrances are washed away.”
     Running Deer crouched down and said, “How will I know it when I see it?”
     The old man took out a cigarette, began smoking it and said, “I know the lake. I’ll take you there.”
     They drove north out across the baking yellow plain in a beaten up old jeep.
     Upon arriving at a gas station, built in the fifties, they both sat on crates out back and drank beer.
     Running Deer told Bear Paw about how he had been drifting like sand across the desert. But now he had a goal in sight, to win the University of New Mexico track competition in Albuquerque. What he didn’t say was that he didn’t really believe in the ancient legends. However, he had a general admiration for the wisdom of Bear Paw. Home life was full of tension, and college was a refuge. Now on vacation, Colorado was his refuge.
     Bear Paw drew deeply on the cigarette he was smoking and said, “The only refuge is within your own self. You must have a clear mind, clear as the desert air. You can’t run away from yourself.”
     Running Deer put down his beer. He said, “You’ve been drinking too much beer. You always become philosophical when you drink too much.”
     The old man looked out at the dust devils spinning in the air and said, “Listen to the quiet of the desert and hear your own self. That is all you need.”
     The old man, seriously drunk, went on, “Nature reflects ourselves; sometimes violent and stormy, but sometimes it is peaceful. Sometimes at a peak of awareness or on a mountain, it is sublime. There are patterns in nature as in our lives.”
     Running Deer and Bear Paw camped out in the
foothills of the mountains in a grove of cottonwoods and aspen in a canyon by a murmuring stream.
     Bear Paw sat by the fire and said, “Don’t ignore what is said when not thinking. The peaceful mind is like a clear lake. It is placid and reflects the world around it. Desires cloud the mind; they are transitory.”
     The next morning they drove through winding roads higher and higher. Mountain peaks looked like soft vanilla ice cream with green pine trees climbing their sides. They were somewhere between Silverton and Purgatory in an uninhabited mountain wilderness. The old man motioned for them to take a dirt road that wound up the mountain by a roaring stream. Finally, they arrived at a lush green meadow covered with wildflowers. The air was still as they headed toward a grove of aspen and pine. Through the pine could be seen the glimmering blue specks of the lake.
     Running Deer ran toward the lake and washed his face in the clear, cool, and shimmering water. He said, “This is it.”
     Bear Paw pointed to Running Deer’s reflection
in the water and said, “That is it.” He threw a pebble into the reflection and it became distorted. He said, “That is desire.”
     Running Deer and Bear Paw swam in the cold water. Then they sunned themselves on the shore.
     The old man looked at the young one, a bundle of desires going off in all directions. He said, “Let’s set up a tea shop here.”
     Running Deer said, “How, will we get the financing?”
     Bear Paw answered, “If you cosign the loan with me we’ll be in business.”
      The young man said, “How will we make a living off selling tea?”
     “We’ll venture into selling dream catchers, Indian worry stones, t-shirts, and of course lots of pastries to go with the tea.”
     “Who will visit us in this remote spot?”    
     “They are about to build a road out here. We’re not too far from the highway.”
     “But won’t that spoil the peace and serenity out here?”
     The old man spoke. “Not at all, the hikers will get the calories they need for their hikes. And we’ll tidy up behind them. We’ll play Native American flute music to set the mood for communing with nature.  It will be a win, win situation.  I inherited some land right where we’re sitting. So all we need is a hut and lawn furniture for our customers.  Serving liquor would desecrate the beauty here. There is nothing more demeaning to the Great Spirit than a bunch of drunks, myself included. It will be easy as falling off a log for me to get on the wagon here.”
     “Old man, I’m a master chef with desserts. So yes we have a deal. Let me just sit here and look at the place as it is.”
     “Nothing stays the same except reruns in summer and superman’s allergy to kryptonite.”