It has been a long time since I was in the woods long enough to see a ridgeline set on fire by the light of the sun sliding down the sky behind it. The mile-high feeling of exaltation, the utter joy, and the sense of triumph upon seeing that sight were worth more than 100 times the aches and pains my body was processing when I got home.
It seems like a thousand lifetimes ago before my body was sidelined by health issues, that I spent endless hours in the woods. Hiking, walking, sleeping, sitting in a copse or under a tree by the edge of whatever body of water, meadow, or point of interest caught my attention. Those places were where I felt most connected to the elements, the divine, and to myself, and I lost the kind of access to them that I most needed when my body and I failed each other.
In the time that I have been at Bear Path Cottage, I found new ways to create and strengthen those connections. Much of that happened because my physical health limited the ways by which I could move. Those limitations forced me to become creative in adapting to new ways of getting things done, invariably lengthening the time my body was in direct connection with whatever physical or spiritual element I was working with. I learned to be more patient with myself and to rest whenever I needed to.
These many months have brought healing and strength back to my body, and I am slowly working on building endurance. I have also been working on releasing the fear of reinjuring my knees and having to start the whole process all over again. That has been as much, if not more, of a challenge than the physical recovery.
On the surface, it seems a contradiction that I am responding to the call to adventure into the woods instead of burrowing further into solitude in this season of turning inward. But part of the work I have done these past few years led me to embrace the centuries-old truth as written by the Japanese poet Basho: "...every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home." Home is not just the walls and the roof that give me shelter; home is the point at the center of my being that connects me with the divine. And sometimes, the journey to that point takes me along a meandering path through the woods.
Over the past few weeks, I've set my weekly adventures with my husband to include walking in forested places that had easy, mostly level paths. It was great just to be moving outdoors, but I knew I wanted and needed more than access to relatively safe spaces. This week's Monday adventure was an intentional acceleration of my path to recovery, though I have to admit Rhodes and I both forgot about the stairs at the beginning of the path to Moore Cove Falls. Or maybe they weren't there before; my last visit to these falls was in 1999 or 2000.
Not so long ago, the sight of those stairs would have ended the journey. I would have been physically unable to go up them or come back down. And for about half a second on Monday, my mind tried to tell me to turn around; that if I was already meeting this unexpected obstacle, what else was ahead? I knew the decision I made then would be a defining point in my recovery and in my life. So, be quiet, brain, said I. This is a challenge, not an obstacle. And I went on.
Although the trail is officially designated as an easy hike, it was somewhat challenging for a person with mobility issues. But once I was up those stairs, I knew I could do it. I employed the biggest lesson I learned over the course of shaping the gardens at Bear Path Cottage: just take it one step at a time.
The day was beautiful, the weather was pleasant, and the air was fresh and clean. Before long, I stopped thinking about the challenging parts of the path as I was drawn into connections with the elemental energies that surrounded me. Every rest stop was an opportunity to spend time *with* the forest, not just in it. Studying the rock formations, studying the amazing variety of leaves, listening to the wind and the water and the movement of forest creatures - all of that made the experience that much more complete.
It wasn't easy, and I am deeply appreciative of the support and encouragement my hiking partner provided. One of the best things he did was to go ahead on his own, then wait up for me or wander back to see how I was doing. That probably sounds weird, but it showed me that he recognized my growing confidence, and I love him for that.
I made it to the falls and lingered there for almost an hour. I spent some of that time talking with Rhodes and watching the falls, and some of it in meditation. I spent all of it in gratitude.
I walked back out in gratitude, and when I saw the sunlight like fire on the ridgeline it felt like a gift from the elementals. My heart and spirit were happy and content. Two days later, the body aches are gone but I'm still carrying those feelings with me.
Next September I will be making the 5-mile loop hike around Nick's Lake in the Adirondacks. I will be ready. I can do this.
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