Finding Your Soulspace

The Peninsula is my haven: the redwood groves along the mountain ridge, the crashing waves on the cliff’s edge, the fog that rolls in, sweeping over bluffs and along the mountains. There is a peace in the ancientness, the sound of the water and the smell of earth and trees.

Unfortunately, most of the Open Space Preserves on the Peninsula are dog-free zones. Tucker and I can walk along Skyline Blvd on the “sidewalk” of foliage, but not within the vast expanses of redwood forest that are protected on either side of the highway. In my search to find a forest for Tucker and I to be in, I came across Thornewood—one I had not noticed before. The main entrance was near Skyline and LaHonda, with the trail trickling down the mountain to Woodside’s less inhabited areas. I’m not a fan of starting a hike at the top; I like to get the hard stuff out of the way, reach the pinnacle, and then have a relaxing journey down, so it didn’t seem like the perfect hike… until I found the back door.

At the bottom of the trail in Thornewood was another parking lot. The little dirt patch that looked like a turn-out for slow vehicles going up the winding mountain road was actually a place to rest my steed at the trailhead.
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Exiting the vehicle, I took in the scent that brings me home: the redwood forest. The sound of water over rocks could be heard, a kind of atmospheric music to add auditory joy to the already visually stunning experience. Stepping into the forest is like stepping back in time. The soil and fallen leaves give just a little under your feet, adding a softness and warmth to every footfall. The colors green and brown radiate from all around, almost filling the air. Bits of fog still remain, and you unwittingly inhale them with each breath.

We crossed the bridge that carried us dryly over the stream and started our vertical climb through the forest. 

​Each switchback gave us a new perspective on our surroundings. Walking through a preserve like this I am in awe not just of nature, but of the people who care for and tend to it. There are no words for the beauty when you walk such a trail:

​We rose through the grove, still never quite reaching the heights of the redwoods themselves. 

​Out from under the cozy embrace of the forest, we could see for miles. Hills and farmlands went all the way to the horizon.

We went to the main entrance, the one that was at the top of the hill, and I was thankful I decided on taking the opposite route back. The sweeping vistas are a sight to behold, but it is not the way to end a hike for us. After looking out across the trees, I can't just walk back to my truck and drive away; I must walk through the woods, let the images settle in while I walk, simmering in my soul and branding into my heart as we make our way back down the mountain.

​Although I prefer solitude on our hikes—the forest, my dog, and me—the few people we came across felt the same and so we bonded in that way misfits and outcasts do: we let our dogs do the talking. One little black and white Staffie girl wanted to run Tucker around in circles on the trail. I let Tucker’s leash go for a brief moment of trust so he could chase her back. I couldn’t let him be teased by a girl. She had excellent recall and for the few moments of joy, I hoped he would follow her should they go too far off trail. Between her two people and me, the three of us proved to be enough obstacles to dodge in their play as they ran up and down the switchback trail. When our dogs were thoroughly worn out, we both leashed back up and headed in opposite directions with a smile and a wave.

​The forest is a magical place: this cathedral ceiling of life above, dancing in the sunlight, the smell of earth and timelessness that radiates from below, the babbling brook that provides music. Around each switchback is a new vista to behold and perhaps even other forest friends to meet. We speak of soulmates as those individuals we connect to deeply and more profoundly than can be put into words. While many people feel the same about dogs, speaking of their “heart dog,” I prefer the same terminology: Tucker is my souldog. And now I discovered one more connection: the soulspace. Like a soulmate, the soulspace is where your heart is truly at peace. It feels as if you were born of the soil, and the air you breathe there rejuvenates not just your body but your soul. When you stand in your soulspace, the air wraps itself around you in a loving embrace. While our life paths will take us many places, it is the soulspace we hold within us that we share with the world, and it is the soulspace we will always return to.

Tucker and I wish for each of you to find your soulspace--that place where your heart is at peace and you feel that connection to self, and earth, and the universe both in the heavens and within you. If you've been lucky enough to find your souldog, let him lead: he knows exactly where it is.