The Redwood Temple

    The Redwood Forest. The words themselves conjure visions of ancient rituals and powerful magic. Little did my family and I realize to what extent the spells of this primeval place would cast as we ventured through the immense forest on our Spring Break camping trip.
    I have always had an affinity for the redwoods. The red, shredded bark felt sensuous, both rough and gentle underneath my hands. The trees were so large, that miniature caves had been naturally carved out inside of them and we imagined they were the abodes of gnomes, hobbits or Ewoks. On our trip, we went on an all day hike through the Ewok forest, our own invention of a name. Supposedly, a portion of the movie Star Wars was filmed there. Ewoks were little, tribal, teddy bear-like inhabitants of the area. My nine year old son just knew we'd eventually come across one, or maybe two.
    Counting the tree rings, we felt like ancient Druids counting time. Transcending, the forest became an ancient temple and I was the Goddes Athena. Wrapping my arms around one of the trees, listening to the drum of its heartbeat, holding the mysteries of the universe in its vast trunk, I was the Goddess invoking prayers of gratitude for the gift of life and the connectedness of all things.
    As we hiked, the massiveness of the forest engulfed and amazed us. We could barely see the sky; the trees were so tall. Richly brown forest duff carpeted our path. The scent of damp, decaying life enveloped us. Grandfather's Beard, moss laden branches and vivid red mushrooms lined our path. The giant sword ferns were lush and deep emerald green. Fiddleheads served us as snacks along the way. I expected the God Pan to appear from behind a tree or to witness a unicorn galloping through the forest.
    We came across a huge fallen redwood. Someone, maybe an ancient wizard, had carved out a trail on top of it. I stayed at the root end of the tree, which was about 20 feet high, while my son, reminiscent of a whirling dervish, danced above me. Water was genly dripping over the deep red bark, which was worn over the ages to a glassy, burnt sienna. I opened my mouth and let drops of the ancient potion nourish me. I felt gratitude for being able to partake in this sacred act. How many generations of ancestors had participated in this holy rite?
    Veils of mist began to shroud us and we realized it was time to go. As we left the trail it began to rain. It seemed as if the sky was baptizing us. The wonderment, enchantment and delight in feeling a part of all continues in our daily lives through our hearts and memories.
    Oh, and we're sure we caught a glimpse of an Ewok.