Feeling grateful tonight for the rich communities I've been welcomed into over the past few months.
Many barren years have come and gone without revealing this honest, deep connectedness with other people outside my family. Now I look around and find that I am suddenly holding hands with many people of like mind, many people walking the same paths I am. Moving in unison toward the same distant drumbeat, working with the same vision in their hearts.
I give thanks for the turning of this wheel, for this new era of my life. I give thanks for each person sharing their truth, their tenderness, their fire, their willingness to be known.
Friday, January 31, 2014
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Snow
View down to the river from my sit. I love the three layers of white.
Fox tracks (?), coming and going.
The wind-blown snow over the ice made galaxies, storm systems...
View upstream.
My summer swim hole.
Animals have been traversing the ice already, even though the river isn't fully frozen over yet.
Sunday, December 8, 2013
Flames
It is said that we all get a chance to take a truthful look at ourselves as our death approaches. That all the layers of doubt and fear and pretense and greed peel away in that moment, and we are left seeing the creature we were born as, the creature buried under a lifetime's accumulation of stories about ourselves.
As I stoked the fire in our woodstove tonight, I rested for a moment with the door ajar, the flames spellbinding in their dancing life. I'd only placed that log in a few moments before, setting it on the embers, but already it was in full flame, brown wood giving rise to light and life. It seemed the layers of growth in the wood were being pulled, one by one, into another form. The certainty of the wood, the expectation of its appearence, transforming into an otherworldly creation, sacredness.
What if we start the changes now? What if, instead of waiting until we can't stand it any longer, or until we are looking death in the eye, what if we peel those layers off now? Take a deep breath and let go, and look inward, and accept what we see there. And on, and on.
As I stoked the fire in our woodstove tonight, I rested for a moment with the door ajar, the flames spellbinding in their dancing life. I'd only placed that log in a few moments before, setting it on the embers, but already it was in full flame, brown wood giving rise to light and life. It seemed the layers of growth in the wood were being pulled, one by one, into another form. The certainty of the wood, the expectation of its appearence, transforming into an otherworldly creation, sacredness.
What if we start the changes now? What if, instead of waiting until we can't stand it any longer, or until we are looking death in the eye, what if we peel those layers off now? Take a deep breath and let go, and look inward, and accept what we see there. And on, and on.
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Crossing
Walked the river this morning. Cool drizzle speckled the water, clouds hung low over everything.
Took a momentous step today, beginning to remove old, heavy weight that has hung on me for years. As I moved through the woods, the river offered itself as a cleansing, a marking of the day.
Boots off and slung over my shoulder, I rolled up my pants and waded in. Soft, muddy clay swallowed my feet, my ankles. It seemed I would sink forever, but eventually I sensed solid ground, and could move forward. Chilled water surrounded my legs, and I made my slow journey to the middle of the river, dipping almost to my waist and soaking my pants before I reached the rise of deposited sediment in the center, the slowest part of the river. As I walked downstream on this sunken sandbar, barely feeling the pull of the gentle current on my calves now, the ripples from my legs radiated out in all directions. I saw them lapping the shores all around me, my movements touching everything I passed. Some ripples returned at odd angles, having met with a rock or fallen tree which sent its own message back in reply.
The forest echoes and articulates so many of our human feelings in its endless appearances. This impossible tangle of tree roots on the bank, like the tortuous and impenetrable intertwining of our lives with others.
Exploring on the far shore, I found a stand of peculiar mushrooms I didn't recognize. They felt to me like the potent medicine we can find when we walk authentically. Deadly, and miraculous, all at once.
Took a momentous step today, beginning to remove old, heavy weight that has hung on me for years. As I moved through the woods, the river offered itself as a cleansing, a marking of the day.
Boots off and slung over my shoulder, I rolled up my pants and waded in. Soft, muddy clay swallowed my feet, my ankles. It seemed I would sink forever, but eventually I sensed solid ground, and could move forward. Chilled water surrounded my legs, and I made my slow journey to the middle of the river, dipping almost to my waist and soaking my pants before I reached the rise of deposited sediment in the center, the slowest part of the river. As I walked downstream on this sunken sandbar, barely feeling the pull of the gentle current on my calves now, the ripples from my legs radiated out in all directions. I saw them lapping the shores all around me, my movements touching everything I passed. Some ripples returned at odd angles, having met with a rock or fallen tree which sent its own message back in reply.
The forest echoes and articulates so many of our human feelings in its endless appearances. This impossible tangle of tree roots on the bank, like the tortuous and impenetrable intertwining of our lives with others.
Exploring on the far shore, I found a stand of peculiar mushrooms I didn't recognize. They felt to me like the potent medicine we can find when we walk authentically. Deadly, and miraculous, all at once.
Monday, September 16, 2013
Holding
Back into my forest after many days away. Felt the same deep sadness in the woods as on my last visit.
As I rested against a hemlock, a spiderweb on a nearby tree wafted slowly back and forth in the breeze, in and out of the afternoon sunlight. Shining, then invisible, then shining again.
The web looked at once so whispy and so self-assured against the massive trunk of the tree: the ephemeral anchored to the eternal.
As I rested against a hemlock, a spiderweb on a nearby tree wafted slowly back and forth in the breeze, in and out of the afternoon sunlight. Shining, then invisible, then shining again.
The web looked at once so whispy and so self-assured against the massive trunk of the tree: the ephemeral anchored to the eternal.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
The Gathering
Gathered last weekend with friends old and new to share the ancient, more gentle ways of living on the earth. So many delicious moments to savor, so many precious new friends in my
life. How swiftly we can work our way into one another's hearts when we
gather in shared passion, shared playfulness, shared devotion to this earth.
Making a berry basket for my littles under the tutelage of a sweet old friend.
My girl gave the unfinished basket a test run with the local autumn olive berries.
My boy's annual archery fix. Each time he and the other archers would go to gather their arrows from the target range together, he walked purposefully beside them rather than running ahead to find his arrows, which is his wont. Shoulders squared, chest up, it was clearly so nourishing to him to be participating directly with the adults.
Dolly's makeover while sitting around the breakfast fire.
My bow drill set, getting some much needed use.
Got an ember going with the friction of the spindle on the fireboard:
Preparing to tuck the ember into the tinder bundle:
Covering the ember with the tinder bundle and...
...flipping the whole thing over so the ember falls inside in one piece.
Slowly closing the tinder bundle around the ember to feed it. Then lifted it up to blow gently on it.
And we have fire!
Saturday, August 31, 2013
30-Day Sit Spot Challenge complete! (Day 31)
Back home and back to sitting in my beloved woods. Pictures and remarks are from the past few days.
Thoreau's Walden Pond cooled me and my family a few days ago:
The children and I inherited a pile of sticks and a dug-out inlet from the last children to play at our section of beach, and we decided to fashion them into a makeshift fish weir.
One or two of us would chase the school of minnows along the bank toward the weir while another stood guard at the outer edge of the sticks, channeling the fish toward the inlet. My boy stood guard at the opening of the inlet, placing the thicker sticks and rock across it to trap them once the fish run was complete. It took us a few passes, but we ended in success: two tiny minnows trapped in the inlet! When we caught them, my mother, always up for fun, thanked the children for having caught "dinner."
Two plants I didn't recognize, growing on the banks of Walden. I've come to know the plants and geography of my own woods so well that now when I'm in another place and I come across plants I don't know, I feel as though I'm traveling abroad.
Another Kamana Sit Spot Challenge come to a close, and once again I feel grateful for the place the program and this Challenge hold in my life. Knowing that other folks the world over have committed to sit regularly in their own places on the earth is so inspiring to me, and helps me to re-establish my own sitting routine each year, right when I need it most.
Regular sits strengthen my connection to my own self, they help me to regain the sacred habit of listening with all my senses to the natural world. They reacquaint me with the communities of plants and animals around me, remind me playfully that my body is made to withstand a greater variety of weather (and biting insects) than I am accustomed to venturing out in.
They remind me of my place and value on this earth.
Thoreau's Walden Pond cooled me and my family a few days ago:
The children and I inherited a pile of sticks and a dug-out inlet from the last children to play at our section of beach, and we decided to fashion them into a makeshift fish weir.
One or two of us would chase the school of minnows along the bank toward the weir while another stood guard at the outer edge of the sticks, channeling the fish toward the inlet. My boy stood guard at the opening of the inlet, placing the thicker sticks and rock across it to trap them once the fish run was complete. It took us a few passes, but we ended in success: two tiny minnows trapped in the inlet! When we caught them, my mother, always up for fun, thanked the children for having caught "dinner."
Two plants I didn't recognize, growing on the banks of Walden. I've come to know the plants and geography of my own woods so well that now when I'm in another place and I come across plants I don't know, I feel as though I'm traveling abroad.
Another Kamana Sit Spot Challenge come to a close, and once again I feel grateful for the place the program and this Challenge hold in my life. Knowing that other folks the world over have committed to sit regularly in their own places on the earth is so inspiring to me, and helps me to re-establish my own sitting routine each year, right when I need it most.
Regular sits strengthen my connection to my own self, they help me to regain the sacred habit of listening with all my senses to the natural world. They reacquaint me with the communities of plants and animals around me, remind me playfully that my body is made to withstand a greater variety of weather (and biting insects) than I am accustomed to venturing out in.
They remind me of my place and value on this earth.
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