Tag: BEAUTY
Into the Forest

Into the Forest

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I finished the ‘out’ part of my hike and was headed back. As I hiked up the trail, the smell of balsam fir trees captured me completely. A favorite moss-covered tree beckoned me to sit and be still. After five miles over some rugged terrain, it felt good to pause and listen.

I was off the trail maybe 30 feet, just enough that nobody noticed me as they hiked past. There were waves of voices that came and went, but mostly there was just the sounds of the forest…and the smell of balsam fir…and the softness of the vibrant, green moss. 

As I sat there observing, I felt like a student of the trees. At one point I whispered to them, so this is what it’s like to sit and observe as people walk by without seeing you. There was something so peaceful about blending in with the trees and plants and not being noticed by anyone. 

Humans often seem to be in a hurry to go and do. The trees reminded me to sit and ‘be’ without any agenda. Not even the agenda to sit and be still. At some point it felt as if I melted into the forest. Thoughts stopped. Breathing slowed. I was part of the forest. 

Everything was vibrant, green, balanced. 

Gradually, thoughts crept back in and I realized I was really hungry. I thanked the forest.  After leaving a little offering of gratitude, I stepped out of cloak of the forest and onto the trail. 

Returning to people and traffic was challenging, but I sit here hours later remembering, reliving the beauty of going into the forest. 
Mountain Morning

Mountain Morning

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How many insects are singing? It’s a holy chorus of sacred song. Wren is the soloist, chirping and trilling her morning song. Mockingbird is the diva that claims arias all her own.

We are in the embrace of the clouds, held in white moisture that breaths us as we join the day.

Orange cat perches on the wood rack, awaiting breakfast. Black dog watches for squirrels; Hound gazes into foggy woods. All of us expectant of some mystical moment that signals the start to the next phase of our day.

But for now, we breathe clouds, enjoy music of the woods, and each other’s company and the presence of delightful beings with which we share this mountain.
Rattlesnake

Rattlesnake

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Image by Randy Ratliff, Hiking the Smokies FB group, not the snake I met.

A sharp, electrical buzz sounded, like a switch being flipped, about ten feet in front of my forward-moving boots. It stopped me like a stone wall. The unmistakable buzzzzzzzzz of a timber rattlesnake.

Besides fear, I could feel the power of the rattlesnake. It claimed the trail with unmistakable authority.  

Image by Randy Ratliff, from Hiking the Smokies FB group, not the snake I met.

The snake’s rattle repeatedly came to mind each time I practiced chanting and singing this past week. The voice is a way we claim our personal sovereignty with unmistakable authority, just like a rattlesnake uses its ‘voice.’ 

A week after the encounter with the powerful rattlesnake, I was hiking on another trail and discovered a rattlesnake that had been crushed. I stood over the lifeless body, deeply saddened by the silencing of the beautiful snake’s ‘voice.’ The contrast between the electrifying buzzzzzz and the silence was profound. 

Album cover art, Strumbellas 2019

Let us claim our voice and not be silenced. 
Cosmic Whales

Cosmic Whales

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A few weeks ago, in my muggle world job, someone mentioned seeing my book, Cosmic Whales: Mystical Stories from the Sea, in a local bookstore. She said she had no idea I was a writer and photographer. Sometimes I forget, too.

When I got home I picked up a copy of the book and began to read it. I remember being in Mexico cave diving when I was doing the final edits to it. I would return from being in the magical realm of the highly decorated underwater caves and would start work on reading the copy again. I read it outside, on the beach, where hundreds of tiny sea turtle tracks criss-crossed the beach from their hatch the night before. It was the perfect place to put the finishing touches on this book….one of my favorite creative journeys.

As I read through the book, I could scarcely believe I wrote the poetic prose that goes so deep into the beauty of the sea and whales, dolphins, manatee, sea lions, sea turtles…all birthed from personal experience with these amazing creatures. This book is a glimpse into the heart of the sea, into my heart.

I’m reminded of the creative mystic that resides within my soul that needs to stir the cauldron and pull out inspiration. My task then is to create space for her to dance words and sentences into being, to journey with her into the forests of these ancient mountains with my photography gear and let images come to life.

It’s time for a rebirth.

Mother and Calf Bliss
On Being Real

On Being Real

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I recently made a comment about personal appearance after hiking with other women. I said it was nice to hike with women who didn’t care about their appearance. Obviously, what I meant to say was, It’s nice to be outdoors with women who are not freaking out because their make-up got smeared, their colors don’t match, or their stomach isn’t as flat as it used to be. Or something like that. Perhaps I should have said, I don’t care about my appearance when hiking, I just want to be comfortable.

For my entire life, I have never been overly concerned about caking on make-up or wearing the proper colors or styles.  I want to be clean and comfortable. I figured if people don’t like what I wear or what I look like, they shouldn’t hang out with me. I refuse to be overly concerned about things that used to drive me to unhealthy behaviors. The greatest compliment I can offer someone is to be 100% myself with them, without pretense, without caring that the age spots on my face look more scary every day. Or my mid-section is fuller than it was when I was starving myself. As Popeye the Sailor said, I yam who I yam. 

In a time when everyone seems so addicted to being offended about everything, I’m relieved to find people who understand that not everything is about them. Not every comment is a criticism. I’m just happy I can put on my shorts, shirt, sports bra, wool socks, boots, and pack or fly fishing gear and enjoy the woods without worrying whether the fashion police will be ticketing women who aren’t perfect in shape, weight, hair, and makeup. 

I am more concerned about what’s happening in my heart, my friend’s heart’s, than what any of us wear or what we look like. Haven’t women evolved past that? I sure hope so.