Johnston Canyon: A Guided Imagery Reflection
- ChantalFillion
- Oct 22, 2024
- 3 min read
Start by taking nice, deep breaths in, holding briefly, and breathing out slowly.
On an early spring day, you walk through a canyon bursting with life. Vibrant emerald coloured moss grows lush and thick along the shaded places at the base of the canyon. Jagged mountain sides frame a sea green river, which pours over rocks and shines silver in golden streams of sunlight. Ancient pine trees reach from the earth to the sky at astounding heights. Some stand straight and others bend and curve at different angles, both adding their unique textures from the base of the canyon and up the mountainside. The sky above is an incredible deep blue painted with fine white clouds.
You feel the gentle warmth of the spring sun on your face as you look upwards, savouring the way the sensation contrasts with the cool mist spraying up from the river and onto your skin. You feel the way the path below you is sturdy and well set into the mountain with each step that you take. You notice the way the dirt underfoot softens the sound of your steps. Occasionally, you feel a tree root rising up through the ground, pressing under your shoe, but your steps remain certain and steady. You reflect on the way that the seemingly small roots manage to hold larger than life trees up, against the elements day after day and year after year—against gravity and the weight of the strongest storms and snowfalls—and you feel a small sense of awe at the might of the natural world around you.
As you slowly walk through the canyon, you think about how your own body supports you. You notice your muscles tense, flex, and relax as you take each step one at a time. You reflect on the ways your body has been strong for you, taking you where you need to go, and healing itself time and time again, even in the moments when you thought it wouldn’t be able to. You stretch your arms towards the sky and savour the feeling, noticing the tension in your muscles slowly melting away.
Breathing in deeply, you smell the rich earthy scents around you, noticing hints of fresh pine, wet earth, and the sun sweet sap that trickles out of the trees in the canyon. You hear the growing sound of rushing water as you walk further along the path. At first, you hear the rumble of water pouring from the falls and crashing into the stone basin, but when you really focus, you begin to pick up the softer notes of water trickling gently through the riverbed, and the ambient noises of wildlife. You observe chipmunks occasionally dashing through the underbrush, and birds chirping somewhere above you.
You climb deeper and deeper into the canyon until dirt becomes stone and stone becomes metal as you arrive at a footbridge. You traverse these narrow but sturdy bridges built into the mountainside, meant to carry you to your destination. Knowing you trust your steps—you walk and climb and walk—passing caves, rock formations, and waterfalls. Finally, you reach your destination. A powerful waterfall surrounded by glacial white and blue ice stands before you. You lean on the railing and take long, deep inhales of the cooling mist that surrounds you. You feel so much better than you felt before you came to the canyon, and you take a moment to soak in the feeling of peace and relaxation that you notice here.
Leaning there, you begin to think about the canyon and how it came to be. It didn’t just appear one day, making the world a better place. Water slowly carved its own path through solid stone over countless years, allowing rich life to grow in a place that was once dark and hard. One moment at a time, that water forged something truly beautiful on its journey to find its place in the world.
When you feel ready, you leave the waterfall and return to the path. Pausing at the trail marker, you notice that you have a choice to make. You can either continue deeper into the canyon and see what else is there for you to discover, or you can take a moment longer to enjoy the falls, and return to the present moment. The choice is yours to make.
© 2024 by Chantal Fillion
