There’s this poem from Mary Oliver that speaks to this hesitation I have about taking people forest bathing or backpacking or rafting with me.
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How I Go to the Woods
Ordinarily, I go to the woods alone, with not a single
friend, for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore
unsuitable.
I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds
or hugging the old black oak tree. I have my way of
praying, as you no doubt have yours.
Besides, when I am alone I can become invisible. I can sit
on the top of a dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds,
until the foxes run by unconcerned. I can hear the almost
unhearable sound of the roses singing.
If you have ever gone to the woods with me, I must love
you very much.
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Problem is, I can’t seem to stop inviting people to walk, or sit, or kayak, or backpack, or raft with me. See, I’ve learned that the people who are willing to go outside are my kind of people. But it’s not just the people who are willing to go outside (for some it’s only ever about getting to the next destination, and FAST), it’s the ones who are willing to be quiet enough for long enough that they hear the river singing. They hear the rocks laughing. They hear the trees chatting.
These are my kind of people – the ones who find meaning and magic and wonder in being outside, not to reach any particular destination, but to BE WHERE THEY ARE.
Present.
Your presence is a gift to me. And to the trees, the rocks, and the rivers.
They know you and see you. And they delight in being seen and known BY YOU.
Truthfully, I’ve been wrestling with frustration that I’ve only got four seats filled for my upcoming “wildHER Rogue River Adventure.”
But, I KNOW the five women (including my co-host Sylke) who are coming to the Rogue river with me. I know they know how to hold stillness. To be present in the moment.
I also know they know how to sing, and dance, and laugh, and wear tutus and blow bubbles and eat desserts and talk with their hearts open.
If it ends up just being the six of us, I am content. I am present to their spirits, their hearts, and their brave and enthusiastic YESSES when we sent out the invitation.
Why?
Because no matter how few or how many show up, there’s surely magic that happens on any river trip.
Sleeping in the warm sand under the stars. Listening to the river sing all night. Receiving the care and delicious food that our professional Outfitter will provide us with during the trip. Watching the landscape change subtly. Watching each of us BE CHANGED by the river experience.
I almost always wake before dawn. Unless I have to pee, I’m in no hurry to leave my cozy sleeping bag. I enjoy the cool morning breeze. Sometimes there are bats overhead, squeaking with joy as the first bugs begin their morning dances. I rub my face in my soft pillow and cricket my legs against my bag. I enjoy the support of the sand underneath me.
The call for COFFEEEEEEEEEEE comes soon enough.
We gather in our chair circles, with sleepy hellos and quiet greetings of “good morning.”
The light changes as the sun creeps over the rim of the canyon. Birds sing, we eat, we gather to chat, and we set intentions for the day. Tents are disassembled, gear and boats are packed. PFDs are on, tight, and soon we are pushing off into the current for a day of adventure.
Friends, there truly are few experiences as magic as a river trip. I’m so fortunate to offer them as part of my work. To offer them with a fantastic co-host. And so eager to meet these women on the banks of the Rogue in September.
Warmly,
Angie
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