Sense of Place

I have lived in 11 different states during my 30+ years of marriage. Michigan, Maryland, Virginia, Oregon, Massachusetts, Kentucky, Illinois, Colorado, Georgia, Connecticut, Pennsylvania and circling back to my home state of Michigan. All the while desiring to achieve a sense of place, a connection to the natural world around me. But living in so many spots has presented challenges in getting to know a place in a deep manner as bonding requires time and effort. To stay in place. Granted I have spent lots of time outdoors in these states, hiking along the Appalachian Trail, the foothills of the Rockies and beside the waters of Long Island Sound, while also exploring paths found in parks and gardens across all these areas. 

Some of my favorite outdoor experiences involved cross-country skiing from Government Camp to Timberline Lodge on the foothills of Mt. Hood, bike riding the Prairie Trail in Illinois, hiking along the AT approach path to an overnight at an eco-lodge, camping with family or friends and spending time sailing with my aunt and uncle as we visited remote islands and harbors. But none of these activities allowed me to feel a true sense of place. Sure I could talk about my explorations, but did I understand what natural features had come together to make up the places I had visited, thus creating a sense of place?

Sense of place requires one to understand the many threads of geology, climate, seasons, watersheds, Indigenous people, plants and animals that are woven together to make up a place. We are all part of an interconnected whole and studying the different threads in your local area allows one to form a deep connection to place. Figuring out where you fit into this natural framework also allows you to know yourself on a deeper level as well.

Getting to know an area in a deeper fashion and forming a relationship with the natural world around you is discussed in Karen Harwell and Joanna Reynolds book “Exploring a Sense of Place” which covers six main topics:

 1)   Deep-time geologic story. This story talks about the topography of an area, its geology and how it came to be formed, discussing events that came to form the hills and valleys, the water basins of a place.

 2)  Weather and climate story. Not only does this story explain what helped to shape the geology of a place but also discusses its ongoing impact through the amount of moisture found in wind and clouds, sun received and temperatures experienced.

 3) The Season’s story. Depending on where you are located on the planet, you experience winter, spring, summer and fall differently. Some places may receive more moisture, depending on location, while others receive less. Others may be hotter or colder.

 4)The Story of Indigenous People. Who lived here in this area before you? How did they live upon the land sustainably and what sort of spirituality and customs did they embrace? Much can be learned from those who came before us.

5) The Watershed Story. People are so accustomed to identifying where they live based on township boundaries but watershed boundaries are the natural world’s way of dividing up space. Water which falls on your land flows to a waterway, thus being referred to as that waterway’s watershed. 

6)The Wildlife Story. Learning about the plants and animals that live within our local ecosystem helps us to make sure we are taking steps to protect these beings.

Over the next couple of days, I am going to do some research to determine information about each of these topics in my local area and do one post per topic. I have read that due to the transient nature of people nowadays, folks never stay in a place long enough to create a sense of place and thus in turn never feel a responsibility to protect the spaces they inhabit. This has proven itself out to me with all the moves and lack of true connection I have made over the years. Beginning this work will be the start of me finally forming a sense of place.

  

Nature Journaling - Your Special Spot

Little Crum Creek Park, Swarthmore, PA.

Many times when I journal in nature, I tend to walk to where my unconscious mind tells me to go, following my gut and wandering until I feel called to stop, but much can be learned from taking another approach and visiting the same spot in nature each time. Going to the same place allows you to get to know the space on a deeper level and form meanings as you explore and reflect on what you observe. The Nature Awareness School’s Kamana Naturalist home study program calls this nature spot your “sit spot.” A place outdoors you can visit week after week. One requirement of your sit spot is that it feels special or has meaning to you. It should be convenient to visit – your backyard, a park, a flower garden etc…You should spend at least 60 minutes at your spot each week making observations and recording your thoughts in your journal.

There have been a couple of times when I have journaled in the same spot week after week and I discovered as I got familiar with the place, I spent less time taking in the many aspects of nature in the area I was observing, and more time going deeper and focusing on just one element of nature serving as a metaphor for my life. You may have a different response, finding you quickly sort through thoughts of your life and then get down to focusing on all the nature around you. The experience is different for all people. When I lived in the Philadelphia area, I began to visit a park offering a gazebo in a semi-wild area nestled near a creek. I’d head off each morning with my pup in tow and settle in at the gazebo and observe and journal. I loved this place as it brought me such peace and I was particularly captivated with the creek as it rushed by the gazebo.

Here is an excerpt of what I wrote in my journal the spring of 2014:

Gazebo in Little Crum Creek Park

“My visit to the woods and water has been all about voice. The creek running louder, speaking louder. The many bird calls. Nature speaks. I speak! I lost my voice from early training to not speak. Speaking meant recriminations, punishment. My thoughts, though no different than any other child’s, were not good. I was not good. But as I discover nature’s voice this spring, I am also discovering my own. It isn’t coming out smoothly and not everyone wants to hear what I have to say I suppose, but that is OK. As the creek babbles in fits and starts, depending on the rain that flows upon the earth, I do as well.”

The following week I wrote:

“My voice is louder now. As the creek roars louder with the spring runoff I find a similar flow as I empty myself of trying to live up to other’s expectations. This creek is screaming at me to let go. I will cry a bucket of tears in the letting go. Filling up the banks of this creek and beyond. Crying for what I lost due to my silence, but crying now too for what I stand to gain by speaking.”

These insights from the natural world allowed me to sort out my thoughts and create meanings for my life, thus untangling hurts from my past. Finding healing through nature. Another time I found myself writing in a special spot soon after I moved here to Michigan when I began taking a class at North Central Michigan College which required weekly nature journaling. For this project, I perched myself at Petoskey State Park on a dune overlooking Lake Michigan and visited my spot religiously week after week through the winter no matter how cold it was or how much snow was on the ground. Each week I was the only person out there which felt enlivening as I watched the lake slowly freeze over into frozen waves.

Frozen waves of Lake Michigan, Petoskey State Park

Here is a snippet of what I wrote during that time:

“I have been drawn to water my entire life, but it wasn’t until I was removed from the waters of my native state that I began to understand there were no substitutes. Neither the Atlantic nor the Pacific could quite captivate me the way Lake Michigan could. I simply understand her voice, the language she speaks, better than any other body of water. She reminds me of my youth, of the good times when I was free like I am once again today, reminding me that I am home. These waters have seen so much of my life. As a young girl splashing along her shore, a freshly minted teenager sailing with a beloved aunt and uncle, an older teen visiting with friends, a new mother showing her son the thrills of sand and water, and now an older woman searching for answers. I am tucked up on a high dune where sand and water meet woods. Wondering why I chose this place rather than right along the shore. Quite possibly I believe, it isn’t just water that holds the answers but rather it is all of nature which holds the keys. Raining now, I must go…”

My nature journaling spot overlooking a frozen Lake Michigan at Petoskey State Park

I find both of these passages interesting. At both the creek and lake locations my focus was only on water and I barely mentioned any other aspect of nature, the water distracting me as it served as a metaphor for my life. Bringing awareness and opportunities for growth as I moved inward. I believe given time in both of these places I would have started to look outside myself. To notice and begin to discover all aspects of nature around me. But quite possibly, I needed nature to heal me before I could move forward into noticing all the other beauty. Maybe time spent in nature ebbs and flows, leans into doing inward work and then moving outward again to be spellbound as one is able. A back and forth, darkness and light, a cycle, depending on where one is in life. 

Michigan's Winter Wonderland

What is it about snow? It magically appears overnight and suddenly the day dawns bright, clean and fresh. Even the dogs know something special has happened, the world transformed as they dash happily around the yard. Even though the storm rolls in with gray skies, an air of excitement begins the day, making everything in the world feel OK. 

Whiteness has blanketed the earth and every tree branch, creating beauty. With snow on the ground, I can’t help but think of the upcoming holidays and all of the holidays past. The different seasons of the year, much like hearing a favorite song on the radio, strikes a chord of remembrance. The firsts flakes of winter may transport us back in time, remind of us of special moments spent with our children who are now grown, rekindle memories of parents who played with us in the snow, makes me smile thinking of all the time I have spent in the outdoors with my husband. 

From making snow angels as a young child to hiking in local nature preserves with my family and dogs last winter, snow is the common denominator. Snow forts, sledding, x-country skiing, snowshoeing, hiking, nature journaling…these are all things that have gotten me out and engaged me with the wild wet wonderfulness of winter.

I know this place, Petoskey State Park

 I know this place. I have walked its beach and all the hiking trails. I have visited the campgrounds and traipsed over the board walks connecting water to forest. I know in summer the beach parking lot is usually filled to the brim whereas today I am the only one out here. I have been here in all seasons, the hottest days of summer, perched under a small canopy reading and during the coldest days of winter, bundled up and sitting high upon a snow filled dune while journaling. I have watched the lake, wind and waves rise up huge as they encroach on the sand. Viewed the lake also while the surface was like glass and also frozen still in the dead of winter. I have collected Petoskey stones here - Michigan’s state stone of fossilized coral - and also collected many memories.

This park is located between my house and town so it is very accessible yet unspoiled. Just a quick turn off the main road takes you into the park as you wind your way to the beach or parking area closer to the campground. Depending on the season, I love starting a walk along the beach and then crossing over the boardwalks onto the forest trail which brings me back around to the beach again. This morning I will do neither as I have errands to run and I must get back home, but this quick respite gets my day started in the right direction. And spending time in the natural world gets my life going in the right direction too. In can be so easy to get swept away into the sorrow of the world and become weighed down to the point where much feels hopeless. I feel so sad for those impacted by the church shooting in Texas and anger too that our country isn’t doing anything to protect people against gun violence. But while listening to a newscast of the event, I heard a woman say those in the church were a tight knit community who loved one another and just wanted to live their lives in love. Those words resonated with me as I feel love is all we can hold on to when faced with such a difficult world. To live our lives in love, being with those we love and spending time doing what we love.

 

Having a sense of place, knowing the natural landscapes around us is a form of this expression. It allows you to get to know the universe on a deeper level, embracing its beauty and connecting with the divine. To create love between two things, a relationship is required. There needs to be an intimacy, a bond to get your heart singing. Once this bond with nature is created, it offers opportunities and messages to create bonds of love within the human world as well. Because humans are a part of the world of nature, the lessons they require are linked to nature, to Gaia. Nature then essentially holds the keys to the lessons you need to live your life in love.

 And how can I feel anything but love while sitting here, gazing out from the beach onto the rolling waters of Lake Michigan. It is why many people find healing in nature. Nature takes you back to yourself. Reminds you in its own way that you are cared for. Embraces you with the wind, calls to you as the waves crash upon the beach, easing your mind with the immensity of it all. To me, nature is Gaia - my god - and Gaia is love. Love is all you need.

I can remember when I first moved here and didn’t know this place. I didn’t know the trails that took me to the beach, got lost finding my way. I didn’t know the beauty this park held. Just saw it as a park without knowing its gifts. Without understanding what I’d learn here along its shores. But now, in relationship, I know how important being in this space, in the body of the natural world is to me. Continually grateful that I know this place...

In the Company of Trees

 I wonder if the bobcat will visit. I wonder if I want him to visit. I have entered nature’s world and left the human world behind for this brief respite. I am residing in a grove of aspens and the intermingling of the wind and their leaves are trying to tell me something which feels scary. I look around to see if the bobcat my neighbor saw this summer in these woods is lurking. Then I wonder if this fear is due to not feeling fully welcome here in the woods. Similar to how one feels when they are new in a group. I ask the wilds around me for permission to be here. In the human world I would not abruptly push into and begin to engage with a group of people I didn’t know. So, I ask again, “Is it OK to be here?” It feels as though the younger trees, not as wise in their knowing approve, but the older, wiser trees are not as sure. They have seen the destruction man brings to the world and they wonder what my motives are. I tell them I come in peace, I will not harm them.

 I see three aspens grouped together in a circle, a family, originating I bet from the same root stock and spreading out while sheltering one another. It takes close proximity to be able to offer care and support. There is an oak near this circle, the aspens serve as pioneer trees in this woodlot, they being the first trees to come in and get this forest started, while the oaks with their longevity follow and create the foundation for the long haul. What tools do we humans have for the long haul aside from one another? Are we putting things in place which will help sustain us into our future generations? This ability to provide for the future is being played out all around me here in this forest.

There are many white pines sprinkled throughout here, their soft leaved bundles attached to yielding branches providing shelter to animals during the long cold winter. When all else feels stark and lacking, the pines offer warmth. Providing this haven takes a toll on the pine, especially when its branches are laden with heavy snow, pulling its branches downward, appearing to make it difficult for the tree to continue standing, reminding me providing shelter comes at a cost.

 The sun has just barely broken above the treetops to my west, straining to break through the clouds offering warmth on this cold morning, telling me light is available just around the corner. It is amazing how loud the tree’s voices become with just a little bit of wind, aspens being the loudest as they quake and tremble. Are they trying to tell me something I currently find it impossible to know? Could I learn their language and thus gain their wisdom if I were to sit here long enough?

The ground at my feet is covered with colorful yet fading leaves that have fallen, ready to break down and nourish the soil as life continues. When nature journaling, I find sometimes writing helps me to think and process and other times just sitting quietly without writing brings on the thoughts. 

I left the house this morning putting coat over my pajamas as I wanted and needed to get away. I followed my instincts which led me to this spot in the woods next to my house. It is quite amazing how this forest manages its beauty all on its own. It does not need humans to oversee it with our use of chemicals, chainsaws and leaf blowers. If anything, there is much we need to learn from nature in how to care for our Earth. If we could learn to shift away from nature destruction practices and embrace instead nature loving ways, I bet this forest would be more receptive to receiving me here in the woods. Understanding that I desire to honor her wisdom on how to live in the world.

With these thoughts, here are some great books which discuss the use of native trees and plants in your landscape I would highly recommend:

Attracting Native Pollinators, Xerces Society

Natural Landscaping, Sally Roth

Gardening with Prairie plants, Sally Wasowski

The American Woodland Garden, Rick Darke

Gaia’s Garden, Toby Hemenway

Principles of Ecological Landscape Design, Travis Beck

Bringing Nature Home, Douglas Tallamy

Noah’s Garden, Sara Stein

Planting Noah’s Garden, Sara Stein

Fife Lake memories

My grandparent's old home in Fife Lake

As a child you are transported to and fro by car to visit relatives without really knowing what roads you are traveling over to get to your destination. When I was around 12, my grandparents who had lived all their lives in Berkley, Michigan moved up north to Fife Lake to retire. Moving up north is a pretty typical thing a lot of Michiganders like to do so my grandparents traded a home on a small suburban lot with lots of city conveniences, for a ranch style home bordering state forest land in a quiet town with very few services. My siblings and I loved visiting and spent many hours in the woods behind their home, even building a tree fort toward the back of their tree filled lot. My grandparents only lasted about four years in that home. Even though my grandpa’s brother lived just up the road, it was just too remote for my grandparent’s taste, so they moved back to Berkley where they lived out the rest of their days.

Flash forward to me, leaving my new home near Harbor Springs to travel down to Grand Haven to visit my aunt. I had recently moved back to Michigan from Philly and as I made my way down US 131, I realized I was going to pass right through Fife Lake and essentially go past my grandparent’s old house. Because I had never driven myself to their home, I knew I was going to have to rely on instinct and memory to try and find the place. As I drew closer to Fife Lake, I began to search for their old red house. Before long I came upon it, now painted blue, and all the feelings associated with being there came flooding back to me. Especially the memories I had of the natural spaces around their home.

My siblings and I had used scrap wood to build a triangle shaped tree fort between three trees. It had several levels and we even put shingles on the roof to help keep the rain out. We spent hours and hours going back and forth between my grandpa’s scrap pile and the fort, making it bigger and bigger. The fort itself was fairly close to a dirt road which ran alongside my grandparent’s property and as I sped by on that day, I wondered if the fort was still there. On my return trip from my aunt’s house I slipped down the dirt road and looked for the fort but the forest was too dense to see through. Disappointed, I headed home.

Is there a fort in there?

 On subsequent trips downstate, I always paused to glance at my grandparent’s house, remembering fondly my time there. But the existence of the fort nagged at me. I really wanted to see that fort again. But why? Did I want to be transported back to that place in time or did I want to see the stamp we had put on the place? To know that I had spent time there? I have traveled back to old homes I once inhabited but never felt this same kind of pull to revisit. I have driven past my grandparent’s old home in Berkley and not felt the same kind of emotion. The only thing I can think of is that a deeper connection was made to this place because I got to know not only the house, but also the natural spaces. I was drawn into the woods and got to know it intimately, forming a bond. There was much more to interact with in the woodlot behind my grandparents up north house versus their Berkley home with its small treeless lawn.

How does nature work such magic? Bringing you back to a place and time you experienced long ago, refusing to let you forget its beauty and embrace. Reminding you of the sun glinting through branches, forming shadows. The sound of twigs snapping as you made your way or the feel of hurdling over larger downed trees. The smell of earth and decaying leaves. The freedom to be kid without a care in the world. I can’t go back to that place but each time I drive by I can remember.

Just recently I drove past my grandparents Fife Lake house again. Once again I stopped, hoping there would be enough leaves off the trees to see the fort. But once again as I peered into the woods, there was no tree fort to be found. Driving further along the dirt road, I found a small indent in the forest where I saw a pile of old wood on the ground, making me wonder if it was the remnants of the fort. I mean, it had been 45 years. OK, so yeah, the fort probably wouldn’t still be standing. What was I thinking? It’s not like me and my siblings were expert house builders, building to last. So the fort is probably gone. But the woods I played in are still there and so too are all the memories I have that are tied to that place.

Elderhood: Living from a Soul Place

Returning to the mainland

Someone asked me when I was recently leading a retreat what I meant when I used the word soul. I told them that to me it referred to “the authentic you.” The “who you’d be in your truest form” without outside influences. Most of us are enculturated to operate as our society dictates and it usually feels most comfortable to operate from a place of fitting in with others. Nobody will call you out if you are doing as you are expected. Making sure you are coloring within the lines keeps the peace amongst friends and family.

But I have found that as people age, they begin to chafe against all of the rules they have been following their entire lives and as they begin to see the endpoint, they desire to make changes more in line with their soul. This is where soul work comes in. David Plotkin in his book “Soulcraft” does an amazing job in outlining what is needed to do soul retrieval and discovering how to live your authentic life. While I have found David’s book to be very useful for those in the elder stage of life, it would be applicable for anyone to use.

Soul work is the work me and 16 other people set out to do as we set off from Michigan’s mainland and traveled to a retreat center called Tara’s Meadow on Beaver Island. The 90 minute ferry ride offered a chance to reflect on what we hoped to accomplish and to leave our daily worries behind. The retreat center itself is located on a remote section of the island, surrounded by woods and meadows. Spending time in a place such as Tara’s Meadow, where nature takes center stage, set the tone for the work we were to do that weekend with Plotkin’s book serving as our guide.

Plotkin talks about the three stages of finding your soul’s voice and then acting on what you discover as he provides what he calls “practices” for making discoveries in each of the stages. The three stages are Practices for Leaving Home, Pathways to Soul Encounter and Cultivating a Soulful Relationship to Life. Practices for leaving home involves doing work which allows you to look at your childhood and early experiences and decide what parts you need to leave behind to grow into your real self. Pathways to Soul Encounter gives you examples of activities you can do to remember your authentic self or soul and Cultivating a Soulful Relationship to Life talks about how you can use what you’ve learned to move forward into living as your real self.

The retreat itself was designed for elders who were desiring to determine what their true calling was and how they would like to devote their time going forward. The retreat, being held totally outside for two full days, was meant to use the healing powers and wisdom of nature to make new discoveries and because Plotkin’s book uses this same methodology, it was a perfect fit. If you are at all interested in this sort of work, I highly recommended Plotkin’s book. During the first day we focused on Leaving Home and Soul Encounter activities and devoted the entire second day to Cultivating a Soulful Relationship to Life. Over the course of the two days we did some activities from Plokin’s book as well some of our own that fit the framework. We met in council to discuss our discoveries and that appeared to be the most powerful work of all. Putting voice to your past trials and hope for the future becomes especially meaningful when shared with others. With nature ever present, we made transformations that guided us all to new places.

Discoveries made on the island have left me feeling more whole than ever, allowing me to put a distance to my early difficult years and embrace myself in new ways which honor who I am. Granted me the ability to start to put my voice out there in stronger ways, such as this blog, rather than keeping quiet about what is important to me. The ferry ride back to the mainland was bittersweet as I was leaving behind all those I had made connections with over the weekend. Landing back at the ferry dock in Charlevoix and getting in a car, having cell phone connectivity again, returning to the fast paced human world where nature took a back seat was jarring as I wanted to keep the peace of the island in my soul as long as I could. Now that I am home, I find I keep the spirit of the island retreat alive by spending as much time as I can in the natural world.  

Women of Wisdom

Women of Wisdom attending Dining Under the Stars in Media, PA.

The most wonderful thing about turning 50 is that I finally entered the age of the crone. The wise women stage of life. Many may think of the terms hag or witch upon hearing the word crone but in actuality it is an important part of the three stages of a woman’s life which are known as maiden, mother and crone. The maiden stage of a women’s life refers to the young girl, just beginning to live yet still not yet awake to the ways of the world. The waxing phase of the lunar cycle, when the moon grows from dark to full represents this maiden stage. The mother stage is when a woman brings forth life by gaining knowledge so that she can embark on work or a career or having children. Whether or not she has children, her life is full and abundant. The lunar cycle at the mother stage of life is represented by the full moon. The last stage of a women’s life, or crone stage, is usually reached around the time of menopause. This stage reflects the end part of a woman’s life when she enters the darkness, bringing forth much wisdom and allowing for her final energies in life to bring soul fulfillment if she is willing to take a risk. The waning moon corresponds with this stage.

Becoming a crone requires one to look back over their life to gather wisdom for the journey ahead. During the maiden stage of her life, parts of her may have gotten covered up by a desire to please those around her. She may have forgotten her true early desires, things that made her happy and participated in more socially acceptable activities. The mother stage may have found her caretaking children or working in a career, both of which may have taken up lots of time and further moved her away from pursuing things that validated her. Both of these stages of pleasing and working for others may have kept a woman away from doing the true work of her soul. And unless she does the work to recover her soul’s desires, she may sail right through the crone phase without knowing her real life’s calling.

Hearing your soul’s voice, long covered up, is done mostly in solitude but participating in a group setting with other women can be a great way to jump start the work. It can feel risky to finally find your voice after many years of keeping it hidden but once the thread of awareness is pulled, an unraveling begins that cannot be stopped. This unraveling for me began when I co-facilitated a women’s group called “Becoming Women of Wisdom,” also known as WOW. Our group consisted of 20 women who met monthly and discussed one decade of our lives each month, starting with our childhood and moving along until we reached our “beyond the 50’s” decade. There were corresponding activities which included appropriate poems, meditations, etc…each month but the gist of it was the decade discussions. What amazed me the most was that as we sat in circle and talked about our lives, I discovered my life was not that much different than others in the group. We all had our up’s and down’s and problems with family and difficult times at some point, and it was awesome to have the support of others in the group as each of us worked through reliving our lives.

After the decade discussions, the group moved toward talking about what we were going to do with all our life experiences. How were we going to use the wisdom gained from having lived to go forward and use our knowledge to pursue our true calling. To do the work of our soul. To step away from cultural expectations of those around us, to do what we loved. This work feels risky because we essentially have to unwind all the threads of who we have become that may have been woven due to someone else’s ideas. To walk into the darkness and find ourselves means many times that we must become someone different than who we have been and this can feel scary.

Doing work such as Women of Women is known as soul retrieval work. It usually starts with looking at who you were when you were young and what may or may not have worked to your advantage, then moving on to trying to figure out what your soul really desires and finally making a road map for your future endeavors. There are many more ways to do soul retrieval work both as a group and a solitary practitioner. Many more ways to work toward becoming a crone.

After a year and a half of work, all of the women in my WOW group went on a weekend retreat which culminated in a croning ceremony. The weekend was filled with tears and happiness, honoring one another for the journey we had taken together and for the women we desired to become. Though the program has ended and some in the group have moved away, the women still continue to meet, supporting one another as they become wiser and wiser.

Becoming Women of Wisdom
https://www.uuwr.org/archives/jpdwr/51-jpdwr/377-becoming-women-of-wisdom-new-curriculum-ready

This is enough...

Stroll along Sturgeon Bay, Wilderness State Park

I moved into my house here in northern Michigan, which sits on about an acre of land tucked into a rural neighborhood filled with woods and close access to large tracts of undeveloped spaces, located far from town, about a year and a half ago. Moving from a small lot on a lovely tree-lined borough outside Philly where the neighbors and necessities of life were within walking distance, and where I had plenty of friends, I wondered what in the heck I was doing. I mean, I knew I was heading back to my native state where I had extended family and friends but I worried how my life would unfold. I was accepted in progressive Philadelphia for my nature loving ways and tree hugger attitudes but I knew the Midwest was more conservative and I wondered where I would find connection. The answer has come in surprising ways.

Lake Michigan, Petoskey State Park

Thorne Swift Nature Preserve

When I first moved here, I started to use my old formula for meeting people when in a new area by visiting different groups, but very few groups stuck as I found my life surrounded by nature more captivating. Not that there was anything wrong with the folks I was meeting, it was just that I thought I had entered a place in my life where the pull to be in nature was stronger. Living where I do, I found the desire to be in the natural world outweighed being in the human world. And how could it not with the presence of Lake Michigan at my doorstep along with beautiful places to hike or visit? The enormity of the wilds takes on a huge role here and those who live in this area embrace it because they too love the outdoors. This thought got me to thinking. I have lived in many different states and many different housing situations, from tightly packed suburban neighborhoods to homes in rural locations. Was there a correlation between the amount of busyness and friends I had and the location where I lived? Could it be possible that the less natural settings I lived in resulted in me looking for connection in human based ways? Did living in a natural space result in me being happy right where I was and not needing to seek out human based connection?

We all need connection which can be found in so many ways but I have been wondering since moving here why I haven’t made many human connections, calling it my hermit stage in life. But I think there is more to it. Our culture dictates that connection is found through relationships with people and folks are made to feel good about themselves if they have many friends and activities. Being busy out in the human world is what people strive for which feels backwards to me now as I see how the natural world is filling me with a sense of connection. It is not that I am a hermit so much because that would signify me staying inside and hibernating whereas I am constantly outside, just not with people beyond my family. Thinking back on the other homes I have lived in that have offered more nature based settings, I realize even then I didn’t look outside my home base as much for people connections. The natural world was enough.

Overlooking Little Traverse Bay from the Little Traverse Wheelway Bike Path

 When I lived in the city, nature would stop me or my neighbors dead in our tracks. A beautiful sunset or a family of owls perched in a nearby tree. It no longer became important that we got to work or a meeting with friends on time. What the natural world was unfolding for us took precedence. We stopped to wonder at the beauty before us and all else was forgotten. That is what is happening to me here in Michigan, surrounded by beauty as I am. I have been stopped dead in my tracks, beholding the wonder of the natural world, with less of a desire to move forward into the human realm. This. This is enough.

OK, I must put a disclaimer in here just in case my son or daughter-in-law should read this post. This would be enough if only we lived closer to them. But soon we will have a little travel trailer, maybe a Scamp? and park it in a wooded area near them :)

Lessons from Nature

Laden with a chair, tarp, backpack and wearing all my winter gear, I moved slowly through the snow at Rose Tree Park in Media, PA., feeling full of promise. Excited to see where my nature journaling would lead me and what new insights I’d gain. As I walked into the interior of the park, I let myself be led by my unconsciousness, my gut, as much as possible rather than steering the direction with my mind. I tried to listen to my body as I walked and follow my body’s instinct. I traversed down an open hill and into the woods and quickly found myself feeling like I needed to lay down and make contact with the ground. I didn’t question this feeling, I just spread out my tarp and stared up into the sky. After taking in the sights and sounds around me, I noticed a beautiful beech tree spreading its bare branches out above me. As my eyes took in the entire view of the tree, I soon noticed it had a long scar near the base of its trunk caused by a lightning strike or some other trauma, making me think of the fact that despite the tree suffering some early damage in its life, it had still turned out beautiful. Immediately it clicked. This tree was serving as a metaphor for my own life. Reminding me that even if life starts out hard, it can still end up beautiful.

After an hour out in the woods alone, I packed up my gear and headed back to meet up with the other women in my group who had also been participating in this nature journaling exercise, so that we could share our experiences. I was the only person in the group who had done nature journaling before but after reading the book, “Nature Spirit Awakening in Nature” by Nancy Barrett Chickerneo, I was given the idea to do so in a group. I used ideas from the book to come up with a curriculum and picked the different parks we would visit to journal in over the course of 4 weeks. None of the women had ever spent time in the woods alone so I started with pretty open parks with lots of grass and moved into fully wooded areas at a local state park. What was amazing about the activity is that all of the women seemed to enjoy participating and they all also gathered insights helpful to them in their life. I really was unsure how well the activity would go over but the response was positive so we went on to do a second set of sessions in the spring.

 The idea of nature journaling – sitting outdoors in nature – feels almost too simple to give results. I mean seriously, what will come from simply sitting and writing? But step outside and suddenly there is so much to see and consider. With the women’s group, I borrowed some prompts from the Nature Spirit book which I believe were helpful as everyone was at the start of their nature journaling journey but most soon discovered they weren’t needed. Prompts or questions can be good if you go into nature with a difficult problem you are trying to sort out. It’s important to keep in mind you can’t force the question onto the wilds and expect an answer. But rather if you pose the question in your mind, let it seep into your body, quite possibly the natural world may slowly come around to soothing you with an answer in an elusive kind of way. Other times you may get an answer to a question you have held for a long time, rendering your present day question less important, as it softens a long held view of yourself.

The most important aspect of nature journaling is the sitting. I used to think simply walking in the woods brought me closer to nature and there is some truth to that but the hurrying along a path makes you miss many things nature may be trying to tell you. It’s kinda like trying to have a conversation with another person while doing an activity versus sitting across from them and having a deep heart to heart. It is the sitting and stopping and focusing that makes it meaningful. Of course you can just go sit in nature and not journal too but I find the journaling leads me down a path of greater discovery and records my findings so I can mull them over later. So get yourself a tarp or small folding chair, weather appropriate clothing, and some writing supplies and head out into the woods or your backyard - anywhere you can find nature speaking louder than man.

Nature Journaling in the Snow...

Looking back into my study as dawn breaks

First light and the first sight out my window are white snowflakes blanketing the ground in softness. Like a kid, a kid’s first snow of the year I race to bundle up to get out there and enjoy. Yes! It smells like winter as I leave the house. What causes that smell I wonder? That cold, crisp, fresh indescribable smell. As I depart the house, I am met with whiteness all around, flakes falling in earnest. I grab my clipboard, my chair, let the dog out and head to a corner of the yard to reflect and journal under the protective canopy of a tree. Hoping the wet from the flakes won’t interfere with my writing.

Winter is on its way

 All is still and quiet and aside from my pen freezing up with which I have since replaced with a pencil, all is good. The sun has not yet fully shown itself or maybe it won’t on this gray overcast day. I feel like I’m young again and the thought of it brings tears to my eyes. The idea that I can return to my childhood by doing something as simple as hanging out in the snow. The sky has that distinctive – it’s gonna snow all day kind of look – though I know it won’t because soon we will cross over the 32 degree mark and all these beautiful flakes will turn to rain.

I have journaled in the winter before but never with wet flakes coming down upon my paper and never with a pencil which feels as stubborn as the pen. But I press on. It is so amazingly quiet, the snow creating a blanket that muffles all noise. Here beside me is a tree, half fallen down, caught up in the crook of a nearby tree and I can’t help but see myself as that strong sturdy tree, holding up those I’ve known in my life who have needed supporting. It can be hard to hold up an almost downed tree. Hard to be the strong one. But I have been the falling tree too in my life and was thankful to have a sturdy tree catch me on the way down as well. We all play both these roles for one another. Strong one minute, in need of help the next. This back and forth, ebb and flow of life. And it is quite possible also to be both strong and in need of support at the same time. Strong in some areas, weaker in others. Sometimes remembering your strong qualities when you are feeling in need helps you dig yourself out of a rut. This is what the natural world is telling me on this fine winter filled day.

Dakoka 

 I am wearing mittens with all the fingertips removed which is great in that these gloves allow for the majority of my hand to stay warm while writing, but what about my poor fingertips? Not too sure about this invention. I have seen mittens with little flaps that allow for the fingers you are not using to be covered. Now that would be a better choice I think. My brown dog Dakota is laying in the snow looking at me and wondering what the heck I am doing. Stepping into the reverence of nature I’d tell her. Communing with the divine. For me God – or the term I use instead Gaia, Mother Earth – resides in everything and the way to be closest to Gaia and receive her wisdom is to spend time in her lap. Out in the bosom of nature. So here I sit. Essentially allowing a spiritual experience to unfold while sitting with nature.

I can hear the snow falling, dropping on the colored fallen leaves around me. Geese in the background are calling – probably telling one another it is time to get the show on the road and head south. A small chickadee is silently flitting behind me from branch to branch. I am writing these words on the blank backside of an old bank statement destined for the shredder. What is money when one can have all this beauty at their disposal? I can smell the pines I am sitting amongst, enveloping me in their scent, an embrace of sorts.

The snow is increasing in its intensity and making its way onto my paper, large wet drops hindering my progress. I will sit awhile yet and then make my way back inside to wake up my son and his dog so they too can enjoy this beauty.

Finnigan