It was cold but sunny, the perfect morning to wander around Matthiessen. Tonight is the Equinox, the beginning of Spring. A time of balance, night and day are the same length; Yin equals Yang.
This hike is a quest to find Spring, I thought. I laughed and shivered. Spring? It was cold and windy. There was no more wind when I entered the canyon, but it shifted to a more profound cold. A dark and quiet cold. Cold from being frozen for months. Ice hung on the canyon walls. Cold settled in the valley. I pulled my hood over my hat. I should have worn heavier gloves. I made my way upstream. The sound of the waterfall guided me while the cloudless sky offered sun. Sun. It looked warm, but it wasn’t.
I remembered a series of hidden caves near the base of the waterfall, and my heart raced joyfully. I crossed the shallow river, moving along fallen logs that were unstable but manageable and much better than removing my boots and walking barefoot through the icy water as I did in Shawnee. The usually dry area in front of the caves was water-covered, but Nature left a path of rocks that led to the chamber. I navigated, stepping rock to rock, and rounded a corner to the hidden entrance. It was liberating to be out of view. It added to the secrecy—the quest. I took a few more steps on the nearly submerged stones before ducking into the opening.
It was COLD, dark, and so quiet, like being within ice. I looked carefully at the ground, instinctively and ridiculously, checking for snakes. The floor of the cave was smooth, with a light layer of sand from feet moving across it for thousands of years. How many people have explored here? How many times has this cave been filled with water? How many creatures have made this shelter home? The cavity felt sacred and a little eerie.
I stepped through a thick oval-shaped hole that led to another room deeper within the canyon wall—time hung densely in the ancient den. I didn’t know whether to feel safe or fearful as I sat to slide down the wall toward the light. There was one final steep step down to a flat surface that edged a body of water. Once there, the room opened to a massive rock shelter.
The view was stunning. I squatted to catch my breath, not from exertion but from awe. I watched an oak leaf, known for its stubborn attachment, fall slowly to the water’s surface. An icy waterfall thundered just outside the chamber. Its echo obscured all other sounds. The cascade of water created ripples whose reflections danced like spirits on the canyon wall. The cold was intense. It was deep and dark. It was Yin. This was Winter. All things reach their extreme before returning to their opposite.
“Reversal is the movement of the Tao” Tao Te Ching
Welcome Spring.