My daughter is a writer.
No, that’s not quite right – in actual fact, my daughter is a wonderfully talented story teller who writes; a story teller whose creations regularly take me on an emotional roller coaster, moving me from tears to laughter, and everything in between.
When I read her posts, my heart bursts with pride and awe that she has the ability to weave her words in such a powerful and delightful way.
Here, for your reading pleasure, is her latest.
When I go into the woods, my muse awakens and joins me. She speaks with a soft but confident whisper, “Listen and experience.” I trust her intuition and wisdom so, as I walk along, hugging and talking to my trees, I pay close attention to everything. During this big-loop counterclockwise walk and talk, I have ample time to ponder today’s topsy-turvy world and examine my place in it.
Shaggy’s bark reminds me of how flimsy their story is, and how it seems that the layers should peel off easily – if only one were determined enough to peer underneath, critically examine what’s partially hidden there, and then give a little tug.
Reggie, a few steps further along on my left, is the wedge – the one that the powers-that-be have tried to drive into communities everywhere. This Red Car Alley cuts through the big loop path – much the way truth slices through lies. Maybe that’s why I walk this path twice. Along this stretch, though, it is important that I keep my eyes wide open so I don’t get poked by the fallen branches overhead – they threaten to jab me regularly.
After the half-way point along Red Car Alley, I greet the greedy Fatso with a knowing nod, and then continue past him up the incline. He is only a short distance below the higher ground at Hill Top Lookout. As I pass the branch that goes off the path to the right, I can look down to the Mud Flats and beyond, towards Enchantment.
Continuing along the main path of the big loop, I often feel choked up walking past, and remembering special meetings and meditations at Big Rock Rodeo.
Not far beyond that, as I pass the ever-present swamps there on my left, I encounter the sometimes very slippery Muddier Flats where I must be cautious not to lose my balance and get sucked in. But with no real trepidation, and with one step in front of the other, I handily make my way up the small hill.
Harold, a tall stately and proud maple reminds me of Daddy, though he ironically, was a small man – especially in his 71st year, when he died. His fine character, though, was solid, like his tree; I love to hug him closely and hopefully, knowing he has my back.
At the end of this stretch I find that Looky Lefty has recently acquired a landmark pile of rocks with an arrow-shaped rock directing me left. For some reason, I am always reminded of, “Go to jail; go directly to jail; do not pass go; do not collect $200.00.”
Shortly after the turn and up a small rise is my triangular rock creation right beside the path. She is firmly rooted, but sometimes loses her hat or even her head, which I replace with whatever is handy. In the winter, she may don a happy face or a heart, traced into the snow on her chest.
Further along this path, Poke Salad Annie reminds me of the multiple holes in their narrative. She is a dead birch that leans precariously on another rather frail dead trunk, and even another. I’m sure it would take only a simple determined push or an extra strong gust of wind in the right direction to send her toppling, and taking her support team with her.
After another gentle curve to the left, I appreciate how easily and gracefully Yogi performs her moves, bending over and stretching her arms behind her up to the sky as if to entice, beckon in and welcome the passersby. I rarely venture closer.
As I head to and through Rocky Road Turnpike, it is crucial that I stay alert so as to not stumble and tumble. I cannot let up my guard as I follow the twists and turns leading to Wet-Foot-Shallows. This section is not for the faint of heart, but I forge ahead, happily ignoring the warnings for my health and safety. I refuse to buy into any fear of what may or may not be ahead. Life is to be experienced. All is well and I am safe.
Just past this point, Peter Pi reminds me of the sciences and the research of thousands of courageous scientists who regularly risk everything to tell us the truth – the truth that gives me the confidence to breathe easily and fearlessly.
Meandering on to my beloved Archie, I feel a sense of peace, calm and hope, in spite of the presence of Grim Grinch. I’ve learned that, though he does look mean, he really is quite powerless in the face of the enduring fortitude of my tribe and my guardians.
Further on in Forevergreen, I gaze up with admiration at Charity, the gorgeous Stripper who stands across the path from a shelter, masterfully built by some industrious hands. Surely this is a sign that I am safe from all future knowns and unknowns in the universe.
The three Buddies keep watch over me as I follow the path up and down and around the bends on my way to Ganesh, the magnificent three-armed, and very huggable red oak. Here I embrace the Spiritual Roundabout that takes me left once again.
Onward, up and down and around again, I finally make it to the divine vibrations of Drumbo at his Crossroads. Then, because I am driven to do so, I retrace my steps down Red Car Alley, and the Path of Truth. At the top once again, this time I hang a right from Hill Top Lookout down to the Mud Flats below, and on to Enchantment beyond. My muse and I both have lighter hearts as we move along the home stretch out to the street.
In the winter when there is lots of snow, and whenever I feel inspired, I make a family of snow angels along my route. Each one gives me the opportunity to breathe deeply and look up to the heavens for divine guidance. In awe, I admire the treetops while tracing the angels’ wings in the snow. Sometimes I also add hearts and happy faces beside the path. `These too always add to the joy I feel in this enchanted universe.
This daily high-frequency trek into the forest is my solace and my therapy; it empowers me; it helps me see the agenda and reject it every step of the way. My root chakra is well balanced here and I feel fully grounded and supported. In this environment, I joyfully nourish my mind, body and spirit. I have enough; I know enough; I am enough. I plan to survive and thrive in gratitude for what I have today; I am joyful, confident, calm and fearless.
These are difficult times, indeed. And you, apparently, are very afraid.
I don’t understand this fear, but I respect your right to look at what you see, and then to conclude that you have reasons to live in fear for yourself and others – and then to act accordingly.
I don’t understand it, but, though I am tempted to do so, I don’t judge you for your beliefs. And I don’t ridicule you. And I certainly do not accuse you of being selfish or inconsiderate of others when you do not hold their views or act according to their beliefs. Nor do I ask you to behave in any way to protect me. I do not hold you responsible for my life.
Today’s enforcement of mandatory mask-wearing in all enclosed spaces here in Quebec marks a very difficult next step for those of us who are not afraid, and who think outside the “approved” group-think accepted by so many.
My very sincere question though is this:
Why should my taking a stand and posting personal views of my position on Facebook be such a threat to you? So much of a threat, in fact, that it justifies comments like this:
What was this comment?
A group of adult female giraffes with their calves is called a tower. By contrast, the male giraffe remains mostly solitary and travels from herd to herd looking for a mate. When necessary — in combat — he uses his neck as a weapon. Comically, this behaviour is called necking.
Today, I am going to mimic the male giraffe and stick my neck out — not to be combative, or find a mate, but simply to express my personal opinion on the hot topic of the day, one that I hear discussed every morning on my health-related podcasts.
Mainstream doctors and experts — the world-over — all agree that the only smart way to tackle this COVID-19 pandemic is with lockdowns, self-isolation, reduced activities and social distancing.
(I don’t understand why they use this descriptor since we are actually only physically distancing, as a quick look at the ever-growing social media posts can confirm.)
Nevertheless, we must all stay physically away from each other — especially if we are over 70, or 65, or 60 or … whatever the latest number is. We must absolutely self-isolate to protect both ourselves and others from this deadly virus; we must avoid all but essential activities; we must stay inside and do our share/our duty to flatten the curve.
We must use two counter-tops to treat our essential grocery purchases, disinfecting everything, including fruits and vegetables, before we put our items away, and wash our hands every step of the way, and preferably, wear a mask, … or not.
We are surrounded by rules that take away our freedom to act as we see fit. What happened to our rights to use our own logic?
There are, thankfully, very intelligent and questioning dissenters out there who have a different narrative. I find it very refreshing to eaves-drop on these intelligent interviews and discussions by such open-minded scientists. They are experts in their field and know how to have professional debates on challenging topics — and even disagree — without the ubiquitous ad hominem attacks. For sure, they aren’t all on the same page, and that’s okay because they have respectful open dialogue and share their well-thought-out and well-referenced view-points in such a way that we can form our own opinions knowing the facts they present.
Indeed, with careful and judicious selection from the podcast- and YouTube-world we can find those who speak with a different perspective — with a wisdom that we never hear on television where, at any time of any day, or any week it’s the same old repetition of the same old: wash your hands, stay home, respect the social-distancing rules, don’t ask questions, …. Sadly, their facts consist of the ever-increasing rambling numbers of cases and deaths that they throw out there to continue to terrify us into compliance!
It is so very tiring! And I really wonder this: is it working?
So what’s my take-away? Well, sadly, I obviously don’t have all the answers either. I’m a simple retired English teacher/greeting card designer — not a scientist.
I do, however, have a good degree of critical-thinking abilities, and having listened to, and read dozens of articles on these issues, I too have become a bit of a dissenter. And there are many things that I question:
— If we never allow the children (who are least vulnerable to this virus) to get out into the living world and play with their friends, and get exposure to microbes of all kinds, how will we ever get an elevated degree of herd immunity to resist this virus?
— With nothing close to 85% herd immunity, how can we possibly avoid a second wave of lockdowns, social distancing, manic hand-washing, illogical grocery routines, etc. ?
— How many more people will suffer even more ill health and then die a prolonged and much more miserable death because of the continuing lockdowns?
– Why don’t governments pre-emptively spend the enormous offers of hand-out money to fix the obesity, diabetes, heart, kidney, auto-immune, etc. diseases; and the horrendous social problems of addiction and homelessness, etc. so that people can be healthy enough to hardily face any and all novel, unexpected and unimaginable biological forces of nature?
— Why don’t we instead get sunshine/ vitamin D exposure, fresh air, exercise, sleep, peace of mind, … and good vibes from our neighbours and loved ones?
–— Why don’t we look at this as a challenge to build up our health, to tower above, and to become very, very bad hosts to this virus?
For an even more sobering read see this Off-Guardian article from April 17.
Lockdowns are the first steps towards monitoring and controlling our behaviour:
Last week I listened to a podcast featuring Joel Salatin where he said, “It’s wonderful to nurture something.” And oh, how I agree!
Indeed, his comments encouraged me to appreciate my own nurturing activities – what a blessing to be able to enjoy these treats so easily.
Kombucha and Kraut are happy, long-time regulars in my kitchen, and each batch has its own particular character.
Kvass has recently made a come-back, after a pause for about a year. Hmmmm. It is such a refreshing drink.
And now milk Kefir has joined the pack. An easy-peazy quick process. Thanks go to Kristin for the grains and to Donna for the inspiration.
So nutritious and delicious these all are – we hug each other every day.
With the arrival of spring-like weather, [K]ompost is also now stirring nicely in my backyard, getting ready to make itself a home in my garden.
Such a lovely, lively and hard-working family!
My sourdough is, unfortunately, being very stubborn. Perhaps it is missing the letter K?
Times are indeed tough for all of us these days, but because we are adaptable creatures, we rise to the occasion and carry on, bravely encouraging our children and grandchildren to do the same. There is no giving up.
But I do miss the hugs!
Audities' Cards 