The Story of Mirror Lake

I was 7 miles into the backcountry and Autumn began to reveal its colors. The aspens turned gold, and my soul flickered with summer. The silence allowed the wilderness to mutter guidance. The signature dark sky presented balance. The mountain stood strong and jagged.

Under the glow of moonlight and stars, I looked into the great black lake and felt the ache in my heart glow. The loch was a mirror and got its name for a reason. It reflected the mountain and the starry sky. As long I stood there, I saw myself in the day and the night.

During the day, I saw a strong, lone mountain weathered and worn. Misunderstood as he stood impacted, and ever-changing at no fault of his own. He was resilient but criticized for being distant. During the night, I saw light bouncing atop a dark dimension. The black surface shimmered. The wonder of life glittered. At once I knew I was magnificent.

This little light shined from light years behind. I needed that kind of courage from dying stars. It was a year since I contracted Lyme disease, and I wouldn’t recover from this backpacking trip. I would get home and be nearly bedridden. My energy will deplete. A thick fog will take over my mind. I won’t be able to draw, paint, or walk my pup Levi down the block. I will be sick and alone in my bed for the next 6 months.

This was a helpless, dark, and terrible time. The impact of this backpacking trip helped me through the worst of Lyme. I remembered the Lone Mountain. Standing strong, and reverent in the harsh winds and elements. He was misread. He was sharp and jagged. Alone out there, distant, and resilient. Unmoved, eroding with his head held high.

I remembered the stars at Mirror Lake. How their light carried on until daybreak. They were ablaze when no one noticed. They were invisible and luminous. I remembered I was made of the same substance. A glowing fragment of cosmic stardust. If I am going out, I am going out in a burning blaze of glory.

I’ve come a long way on my healing journey from Lyme disease but am still hindered in regular, daily life. From day to day, I need reminders from the mountains to stand steady and hold my head up high. And from the stars every night, to shine and tear apart the dark. To call Flagstaff home is life-giving, and is a rare place adorned with both.