For over 30 years, I have guided people in the canyons, rivers, and mountains of the Colorado Plateau. This is a story of a young woman whose application to our program was almost turned down because I wasn’t sure if she would get anything out of it.

At the end of each day, we gather in Circle to “listen with respect and speak from the heart.” Although I usually conduct Circle around a campfire or bathed in fading sunlight or alpenglow, with this one particular group of teenagers, we always met before dinner. One day, we reached camp early, set up our shelters, and enjoyed a leisurely afternoon.

A tent group of boys baked fresh bread with their stove and a “twiggy fire.” Others rested, talking by a small stream. Some even lay on the warm grass and slept.

So, it was that we gathered that dreamy afternoon, deep in a forest of aspen and spruce. Bill spoke of friendship, how he felt closer to people in this group in just three weeks than he did with his friends back home whom he had known for years. Ruth was excited about all the scratches on her legs from the off-trail hiking. Karen admitted that she had little to say because she was so content. Raoul from Chicago told us that he loved the quiet of the forest, that it was so “natural,” so different than the silence of his room in the city. And, then, there was silence in our Circle, for long minutes.

At last, Megan reached for the talking stick. Holding it with both hands, she looked around the Circle with a beatific smile. She spoke slowly, “When I am with Mother Earth, I hear beautiful music. I hear the little birds in the morning talking to each other. Every stream has a friendly song. Twigs snap loudly under my boots.”

Still with her all-inclusive smile, but now with tears running freely down her cheeks, Megan looked around the Circle, at our lips, to see if any of us were talking. She chose her words carefully, and enunciated every word with effort and passion. You could have heard a pin drop in the Circle.
“I love the sound of aspen leaves and dry grass in the wind. When a storm comes, the thunder frightens me. I know where the deer sleep because I can hear them breathing. I can hear the stars moving at night. When I sleep outside, I hear the voices in my dreams. I am so happy to be here with all of you.”

Megan is completely deaf. We gathered for Circle in the daylight, so that she could read our lips. We listened intently because her speech was difficult to understand. She knew how to “listen with respect and speak from the heart” and we understood.

Doug—Mancos, Colorado

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