First, let me say thanks to all you who are posting comments. I do a lot of e-mailing, but this forum is exciting in an entirely different way.

Well, I could delve into a whole heap of philosophical reflections, like the existential aspects of meditation, or the superficiality of modern society's quest for the unattainable, but I'm not going to. Instead, I want to tell you about the snake.

Dinner at the monastery is followed (not surprisingly) by a time of prayer (Compline). This time of year Compline ends after the sun has floated behind the red cliffs, leaving the Chama Valley like a dark well. It had been warm the last couple of days, but after sunset, the air cooled quickly.

I walked back to the guesthouse without my flashlight a few nights ago. (The guesthouse sits about a block from the Church down a path cleared between the brush.) The evening had clouded over, so any illumination from the evenings celestial bodies was nil. Walking the path in the dark wasn't too much of a problem, because even though there is little light, you can still discern the lighter sand/clay on the ground from the darker, black brush that form the path walls. I looked up at the dark cliffs that hem the monastery in on both sides and the 23rd Psalm popped into my head. Not the entire Psalm, just the part where David goes, "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..." And it dawned on me how big a valley really is. David isn't talking of some little crevice, just a small crack you can almost jump over. NO! David passes through "a valley." Valleys are enormous - or they can be. David's got quite a hike through a really rough place. He may be in the Valley more than one day. His jouney may take a number of days, down in that Valley of Death.

So, I walked along in the dark, thinking about the "rod and staff," tools that are comforting in dark places, and realize that David should have added "flashlight" to his list. Or, at the very least, he should have added a candle to get through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. I think a light is really, really needed. Light is good. Light dispels shadow and darkness.

I was getting close to the guesthouse, just a couple hundred feet more, across a small arroyo. The arroyo had a 2 ft wide, wooden, bridge built over it about 5-6 ft long. I approached the bridge and I saw the darker grey dirt abruptly give way to the lighter colored wood of the bridge. I casually walked over the bridge, looking down to make sure I didn't misstep and go careening off the side. The entire time the "shadow of death" theme played in my mind, when I noticed on my right...just lying on the bridge... a long, thick, curly weed.

Now, understand what happens next took place in about the time it takes to inhale and exhale. I stepped onto the bridge and saw the "weed" on my right. At least, that was the first drawer my mind attempted to file it in; the drawer marked "weed/weeds/other grassy stuff." Passing by so quickly I really couldn't tell if the thing was actually growing up from the bank. However, as I passed it I rethought my first impression. Could I have been wrong? (I'm wrong a lot.) Maybe my sorter/filer is off?

By then I was off the bridge and I realized the curly "weed" wasn't a "weed" at all, and that my filer needed to be recalibrated, and soon.

I stopped, turned around, and took 2 steps back to the bridge. I had to verify the information I was gathering, because I had a second impression. The message sent to the filing system was no longer compatible with "weed" but was found a bit farther up the alphabet, back up toward "s."

I thought, "I just passed a 2 ft long snake, lying there on that bridge." "No," a part of me argued back. "It's dark out! Shouldn't all good snakes be sleeping, or at least getting ready for bed?" I stood at the far side of the bridge squinting, trying to see if the long, dark, squiggle had moved. It hadn't. I did the smartest thing I knew to do- and this is the part I'm most proud of - I kicked the end of the bridge.

Before my foot found the terrain it came from, a rattle started going off like an elementary school fire alarm. It took me all of a pen click to RUN the other direction. I got about 10 steps, revving my engine for take off speed when I realized I was the first person since sundown to cross that bridge, and a few more guests would be walking the same "valley of the shadow." Whereas, I'd walked past an aloof, lounging, just-warming the last bits of my bones snake, they would be walking past an alert, angry rattler standing guard over his bridge - just because I'd gone and raised his ire with a little kick.

I went back toward the bridge - not too close, mind you - watching my feet the whole time (still with no light). Like Plato to the cave, I went back to warn the others (and you know what happened to him in the story). Finally, a guy came along with a flash light and I relayed my little encounter before he got too close to disaster central. My fellow traveler paused...shone the light around, but apparently Mr. Rattler decided the party wasn't worth sticking around for, and slithered off. Not knowing exactly which way he'd parted, I too made a hasty exit, heart pounding.

I am more convinced than ever that David really did miss "flashlight" on that Valley of Death list. I was in the Valley, and the Shadow of Death was right next to me - or at least the Shadow of a really, really bad illness. Yes, a rod and staff would have made me feel better, comforted me even. But, I decided that for any more "dark journeys" I'm always going to walk behind the guy with the flashlight. And I'm promising - and you should too - to not go into any dark Valley without a light - or maybe I should say, "The Light," again.