For three days and two nights, I was at a lake house… a lake house in the mountains of Virginia. Little did I know what was to be given. You see, I am in-between the good-bye of one job and the hello of a new one. I put a week between the two of them so I could exhale what needs to be released and inhale a sense of renewal for what is coming. Sitting with what is happening in my life is a very healthy thing for me to do. Sitting with, being with transition keeps me balanced and awake.
And so, I went to a new place thanks to a friend, and all the way there… I saw so much beauty. Mountain vistas all fresh with spring greens and mellow blues. A wild turkey crossing the road. An indigo bunting flashing his vibrating blue. And trees, trees, trees growing greener with every mile along the winding mountain roads. I could begin to feel the falling away of cares and the rising up of joys.
Upon arrival, I dropped off my odds and ends at the house and headed down to the lake. It was this huge body of water that pulsed with life… ripples and shushing sounds and little barn swallows swooping and twirling for delight. Occasionally a fish would jump high, trying to touch sky, and then quickly accept the call back to the deep. And all the while the mountains on the other side of this lake stood watch, stood as a witness to the water and its life.
I’ve never thought of myself as a water kind of gal. I’m called to the mountains and to forests. I am a camper, not a boater. I like to pull on sweaters, and rarely put on a swim suit. But this… this place, this water met a quiet place in me that woodlands paths have not tamed. And for hours and hours, I sat with my feet in the water… first in one place and then another. I dangled my feet and splashed my feet. I tossed the cold water on my arms and face. I felt a union with that water that I’ve not experienced before.
And at night, I slept with the door open to my bedroom porch so I could rest in the lullaby of splashing waves and cooing rocks. And the moon? Why yes it was full… just in case the sound of calm needed to be seen in the midnight hours.
In the daytime, when my feet were not in the water, they were dangling over the edge of a hammock swing that was purposely hung as close to the water as possible. And again, for hours, I would let that swing hold my body, and rock my body as the water lulled its melodies. It was so amazing to feel sound and body merge and every ounce of worry fall away from me. Every ounce of worry fell away from me. I was whole in that rocking. Water and a simple hammock swing coming together like some magical potion to soothe my soul. It’s been years since I’ve felt such ease. And I let it take me. I let myself acknowledge the blessed balm of nurturance. I felt like a little girl being rocked in her Mama’s arms as she hummed comfort into my being. And I let it take me. I want to give my body tangible permission to go there again. One must not wait for years to let go in this way. One must not be so very grown up that the mysteries of rest and breeze and water and rocking become remote and lost to the numbness of grown up routines and details.
Today, I came back home, but I’ve let my body remain still. I’ve retraced the lines of release all afternoon so that my mind can easily find the water worn impressions when I grow thirsty and dry. I want to remember that every day at that lake, the water caresses the rocks, the barn swallows swoop and dip and dive, and the mountains stand steady to it all. No matter if I am there or not, life goes on with ease and joy and peace. Perhaps that is what the water and birds and mountains will pray for me tonight… that their anointings linger long and that what has come together in mind, body, and spirit will remain.. fluid, flowing, and free… in me.
And so, I went to a new place thanks to a friend, and all the way there… I saw so much beauty. Mountain vistas all fresh with spring greens and mellow blues. A wild turkey crossing the road. An indigo bunting flashing his vibrating blue. And trees, trees, trees growing greener with every mile along the winding mountain roads. I could begin to feel the falling away of cares and the rising up of joys.
Upon arrival, I dropped off my odds and ends at the house and headed down to the lake. It was this huge body of water that pulsed with life… ripples and shushing sounds and little barn swallows swooping and twirling for delight. Occasionally a fish would jump high, trying to touch sky, and then quickly accept the call back to the deep. And all the while the mountains on the other side of this lake stood watch, stood as a witness to the water and its life.
I’ve never thought of myself as a water kind of gal. I’m called to the mountains and to forests. I am a camper, not a boater. I like to pull on sweaters, and rarely put on a swim suit. But this… this place, this water met a quiet place in me that woodlands paths have not tamed. And for hours and hours, I sat with my feet in the water… first in one place and then another. I dangled my feet and splashed my feet. I tossed the cold water on my arms and face. I felt a union with that water that I’ve not experienced before.
And at night, I slept with the door open to my bedroom porch so I could rest in the lullaby of splashing waves and cooing rocks. And the moon? Why yes it was full… just in case the sound of calm needed to be seen in the midnight hours.
In the daytime, when my feet were not in the water, they were dangling over the edge of a hammock swing that was purposely hung as close to the water as possible. And again, for hours, I would let that swing hold my body, and rock my body as the water lulled its melodies. It was so amazing to feel sound and body merge and every ounce of worry fall away from me. Every ounce of worry fell away from me. I was whole in that rocking. Water and a simple hammock swing coming together like some magical potion to soothe my soul. It’s been years since I’ve felt such ease. And I let it take me. I let myself acknowledge the blessed balm of nurturance. I felt like a little girl being rocked in her Mama’s arms as she hummed comfort into my being. And I let it take me. I want to give my body tangible permission to go there again. One must not wait for years to let go in this way. One must not be so very grown up that the mysteries of rest and breeze and water and rocking become remote and lost to the numbness of grown up routines and details.
Today, I came back home, but I’ve let my body remain still. I’ve retraced the lines of release all afternoon so that my mind can easily find the water worn impressions when I grow thirsty and dry. I want to remember that every day at that lake, the water caresses the rocks, the barn swallows swoop and dip and dive, and the mountains stand steady to it all. No matter if I am there or not, life goes on with ease and joy and peace. Perhaps that is what the water and birds and mountains will pray for me tonight… that their anointings linger long and that what has come together in mind, body, and spirit will remain.. fluid, flowing, and free… in me.
RSS Feed
