The other day, my friend, Laurie, and I were reminiscing about summers in the foothills of the Adirondacks and other areas within driving distance of our common home town.
The essence of our common yet very different annual experiences was the refreshing return to a natural environment, stone and wood built rustic houses with screened in porches and lots of room to romp.
A lake for swimming - a pond for skimming flat stones - a stone bedded creek to wade in - weather smoothed quartz to slide down - evergreen woods to wander - wild animals going about their business - berries and currants for the picking - clearings in the woods filled with silence - campfires for roasting marshmallows - sun bathing - moon light and stars - fields of fireflies.
Poison ivy covered with calamine lotion - mosquitoes for swatting - biting yellow and black flies gathering on the spiraled sticky paper - sunburn covered with oil - mildewed mattresses to be aired - beaver dams to unblock - pine trees to be trimmed up - daddy long legs in the tents.
I could fill a whole book with these memories.
We loved every second of our time at our summer camps - one week, two weeks,every weekend, or day camp.
My favorite was the early morning mist, walking on the tree shaded paths to a small clearing. I had shaped it by building a fence of pine needles, a circle of stones on the outside and a hearth of stones in the center. I was very young then and, unless I saw a picture in a national geographic, the sacred space came from somewhere deep inside of me. I imagined it into being there at summer camp, hanging out with the trees, plants, and animals in the foothills of the Adirondack mountains.
Even today, I look for the small clearings and create of it, a sacred space. There, I breathe in and breathe out, grateful for this opportunity to hang out, play and be totally in nature with those of us who have gathered at a summer camp.
We all have memories of going back to nature. Some of us have moved back there permanently. Those fortunate souls, I envy.
How do you create a sacred place, together with nature, for your solitary time?
4 comments:
Interesting! I don't usually change the spaces I'm in (physically). I usually sit/stand and enjoy them and use them for centering. SOmetimes I pick up something like a feather.
hello! I think we create sacred spaces everywhere, even as much as saving a spot on the windowsill amongst the plants for the cat. Caroline via email
I too, love the Adirondacks. I spent a week or two on Fourth Lake with my mother and uncle way back in the day. I remember how cold the lake was and the smell of pine needles. Took my kids to Old Forge for a week many years later and towed them behind my boat in a canoe. When I turned around they were waving and yelling something I could not understand. Later I found out that I was about to hit a pile of rocks and they were trying to warn me! They never let me forget how dumb I looked.
You write so well, keep it up!
You asked about nature. That is a huge and complex part of our world to even comprehend. For me, my a ha moment was when
I walk my aged dog, Frito. He could only walk a few steps before collapsing in the road. Many times, drivers would stop until I could
cajole my sixteen year old canine over to the grass. As you can well imagine a fifteen minute walk became a forty five minute lesson in patience, love, and sensing the greenery surrounding my faithful friend and myself. I began to notice the shapes and colors of
the trees and shrubbery. Each leaf had its unique shape and shade of green. There were so many shades and textures to observe.
And then, when Frito could get up again, we could continue our slow journey of wonder and decline. Marcia via email.
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