DASH POINT STATE PARK, FEDERAL WAY, WA:
This morning, I found myself at Dash Point Trail, sticking to urban hikes as floods continue to impact much of Western Washington. It was just before sunrise, and the world was cloaked in a hushed stillness that felt sacred during hustle and bustle of the holiday season. The air was cool, infused with the earthy scent of damp leaves, while the overcast sky hinted at rain. As I embarked on my 6-mile hike, anticipation built as each step echoed a familiar rhythm that intertwined with whispers of the past. Nostalgia washed over me as I crossed the parking lot, memories of joyful outings flooding my mind. Today’s journey was to be a tapestry of reflection, where nature’s twists and turns mirrored the intricacies of life itself. With every arching branch and fallen tree, I felt embraced by a sense of belonging, eager to unpack the lessons hidden within the landscape. As I walked, I carried a “trail-thought” to ponder, allowing the beauty around me to deepen my connection to both the present moment and cherished memories.
As I drove through the darkness of the early morning, my heart brimmed with gratitude, particularly for my grandson, Ronin, who will soon turn two. His radiant smile is a beacon of joy, illuminating even the darkest corners of my mind. Each moment spent with him is a reminder of life’s simplest pleasures, teaching me the importance of connection over perfection. In his innocent laughter (at times not so innocent), I find solace and acceptance, a rare gift that invites me to embrace my authentic self. Navigating the winding path, I reflected on this week’s lessons in love, vulnerability, and the beauty of being present. The weight of everyday worries dissipated as I pondered how Ronin’s unfiltered joy inspires me to shed any burdens of the past, reminding me of the transformative power of love. Today’s hike felt like a celebration of gratitude, where the trail became inspiration for reflection.
As I travelled deeper into the woods, the rain began to fall softly, not so different than the tears I’ve recently learned to embrace. Each drop was a reminder of vulnerability, an invitation to explore the depths of my emotions and the narratives that shape my life. The absence of Kelly continues to leave an undeniable void, magnified by holiday traditions and rituals we cherished, forcing me to reconstruct what love and connection mean in her absence. Heartfelt films have provided refuge during this period of reflection, acting as a mirror for my own grief, healing, and hope. Navigating the trail, I pondered whether leaning on these stories might stall my growth or offer vital insights. The paradox of love—how it expands rather than contracts—gave me pause. Amidst the sorrow, I recognize that love still flourishes in myriad forms, reminding me that while the path ahead may be challenging and lonely at times, it is also rich with promise and potential for new connections.
The Journey…
I arrived at Dash Point Trail just before sunrise, the air cool and filled with the earthy scent of damp leaves. The overcast sky hinted at rain, but the soft glow of dawn peeked through as I first made my way down to the beach. With each step, I felt the anticipation of the ~6.5-mile hike ahead. The familiar path wound through the trees, each arching branch creating a whimsical canopy overhead. I could see the remnants of winter—bare branches stretching toward the gray sky, waiting for spring’s vibrant return. Crossing the parking lot to the trailhead, I was struck by nostalgia, memories of past hikes flooding my mind. It was going to be a wet adventure, but I welcomed the soothing rhythm of raindrops tapping against the leaves, ready to embrace whatever the trail had in store.
The trail welcomed me, its contours igniting a sense of belonging. As I walked, I noticed the aftermath of the atmospheric river and strong winds; fallen trees lay across the path like nature’s obstacles. Yet, amidst this chaos, the sound of rushing water filled the air—an unexpected melody, from recent rainfall, that accompanied my footsteps. It was soothing, a reminder that beauty often emerges from unfavorable conditions. Memories intertwined with the present as I passed a hollowed log that once served as a slide for youth soccer teams I had coached. My heart swelled, thinking of their joyful banter, and I couldn’t help but smile at how those moments, though distant, still lit up my heart. This hike felt like a conversation with my past, each step an echo of joy.
Venturing deeper into the woods, the trail shifted from soft, sponge-like earth to vibrant patches of greenery. The air thickened with the scent of damp moss, and the clouds overhead began to darken, promising rain. As I approached the east side of the forest, near the Bistro, I reflected on past adventures with friends, the laughter we shared, and those carefree shenanigans with Gino, Kelly, and Kelly—our concert escapades, “Valla Valla” B&B, and a pumpkin pie incident in the Escalade. Despite the looming rain, I felt a warmth in my heart, a testament to cherished friendships. The trail was a tapestry of experiences, each twist and turn revealing something new yet familiar. Today’s journey was different, lined with memories and reflections—a beautiful blend of nostalgia and discovery, reminding me that the essence of adventure lies in a balance between the past and present.
Gratitude…
As I drove through the darkness of the early morning, the road stretched ahead with new twists and turns to a familiar place, dodging roads affected by recent flooding and waiting for the first light of dawn to add a glow to the overcast sky. This week, my heart is especially full of gratitude for my grandson, Ronin, who will be turning two in February. His smile, radiant and genuine, brightens even the darkest of skies. It’s a reminder of the beauty that exists in simplicity—a warm glow guiding me through the solitude of my journey. Each moment spent with him is like a precious gift of presence, reminding me that love is uncomplicated and pure. In his innocent gaze, I find acceptance without judgment, a rare treasure that allows me to be my authentic self, unburdened by any past trials or the weight of expectations.
Ronin’s joy is infectious, a vibrant spark that ignites my spirit. He doesn’t carry the baggage of history; he simply lives in the moment, teaching me to do the same. During our time together, I am reminded that life is not about perfection but about connection. The only thing he seems to ask of me is to share a laugh or make a silly face, which feels like the simplest yet most profound gift. Each giggle and gleeful whisper of “Papa” from him tugs at my heart, and I am grateful for the lessons he imparts. His presence inspires me to embrace my flaws. In fact, the more imperfect I am, the more he seems to admire me, lighting the way to my own self-acceptance. In these quiet early mornings, as I reflect on my journey, I cherish the innocence and love he brings into my life, grounding me in gratitude and joy.
Reflections…
This morning’s hike was a blend of exploration—both of the winding path ahead and the thoughts swirling in my mind. The sky was draped in a gloomy gray, with raindrops gently disrupted by the branches above, creating a soothing rhythm. As I walked beneath the towering trees, their limbs whispered secrets into the crisp, damp air. I found myself reflecting on a theme that’s been on my heart in recent weeks: the comfort I derive from heartfelt films. This week’s trail-thought expanded on my previous reflections about sad songs. I’ve been curious about whether this comfort is truly healthy or simply a pause in my personal growth. It felt like navigating a winding road, unsure of where I was headed, but trusting that each step would lead me to clarity.
For so long, I’ve been someone who didn’t easily shed tears. It wasn’t a conscious choice; it just wasn’t part of my emotional toolkit. But lately, I’ve learned to embrace those tears, especially during private moments—whether it’s through music, movies, or the weight of memories. This vulnerability feels new, almost like rediscovering a part of myself that had been tucked away. As I walked, I felt the rain gently falling on my rain gear, a reminder that vulnerability can be beautiful. It felt safe to let my emotions flow, much like the water trickling down through the trees. Each tear was a release, a step toward understanding the depths of my heart and the layers of my emotions.
As I hiked, I couldn’t help but think about how losing Kelly has altered my narrative. Her absence has left a gaping chasm in my story, forcing me to reconstruct the meaning of my life without her. Some psychologists call this “narrative disruption,” which seems appropriate. The shared stories that once defined us have been upended, leaving me grappling with profound questions: What does it mean to love deeply? What does connection look like when the person you relied on is gone? With each step on the trail, I felt the weight of these questions pressing down on me like the saturated trail I traversed. Yet, in this space of solitude, I began to find the contours of a new narrative—a journey of understanding and redefining love.
Heartfelt films have become a refuge for me during this time of reflection. They explore the essence of human connection—the capacity to love, to be understood, and to share moments that transcend self-interest. In the middle of these gripping stories, I find a space where grief and hope can coexist. Watching these films isn’t just about entertainment; it’s a space where I can engage in meaningful reflection. I can shed tears, feel connected, and for a fleeting moment, it’s like medicine for my soul. As I moved along the trail, I realized that these narratives provided a temporary escape, allowing me to step back from my grief and immerse myself in the stories of others. It’s a delicate dance, balancing vulnerability with the need for healing.
Yet, I wondered why it was a different than the experience of sad songs, because they seemingly produce similar results. I concluded that it came down to what I deemed as an acceptable tolerance for sadness. Sad songs last 3-4 minutes. I can take that. Yet, a couple of hours of sadness in a movie is a bridge too far. So, my heartfelt films tend to lead to hope and human connection, rather than grief and loss. As I navigated the winding trail, I was also reminded of the paradox of expanded love. It’s a lesson I learned when we welcomed our second and then third child—how love doesn’t diminish; it evolves and expands. Watching heartfelt films reinforces the idea that love is not a finite resource. It manifests in countless ways—romantic, familial, or even the bonds we share with our pets. Each step forward feels like a reminder that while I grieve, I also have the capacity to love deeply and authentically once more, when the time is right. The path continues.
-Ken
- Dash Point State Park, Federal Way, WA
- 47° 19′ 6.816″ -122° 24′ 47.448″
- ~6.5 miles | 535 ft elevation gain | ~3 hours
- Sunrise: 7:49 a.m. 40-46 degrees, clear
Musings 