A New Perspective
It had been a rainy, cool day. Gray skies. Rain. Rain. Rain. The blueberry bushes in the garden must have grown three inches in one day. Each time I looked out the window, more green. It was the kind of day that lures me into an easy nap. Drop, drop, drop on the metal roof. Low light. A bit chilly so perfect sinking-into-the-puffy-recliner-reading weather.
I woke from the doze around 7.15pm and began watching a video of two therapists that are doing a weekly chat about life in these strange times of viral storms. Actually, to be honest…I call it a viral shitstorm. But that’s another story.
Several days of rain had put a damper…literally…on flying my drone and I hadn’t expected a break in the weather but as I watched the video, I glanced out the window….no wind…no rain…still 30 minutes before sunset. I quickly checked the app that gives me cloud base information, wind, gusts, temperature, satellite info for GPS, precipitation, cloud cover, visibility, wind direction, sunrise/sunset…and whatever else I need to know before flying. Good to go!
I paused the video, ran upstairs and grabbed my case with drone, controller, licenses, permits, batteries and all the stuff necessary for safe flying. Just a quick up and down in the driveway would at least give me a bit of airtime.
I kept the flight altitude to only 85 feet…just above the treetops. There were clouds but I was far under them per FAA guidelines. The clouds had interesting shapes which was encouraging for photography and there were small areas of fog in the valley below so that added to my growing hope for interesting images.
And then…as the drone hovered directly overhead (I live at 2100 feet elevation) the sky began to do something amazing. It appeared that a spiral of clouds was coming out of the sun. And then wispy, thin fog tendrils began to creep over the mountain below the clouds. It takes hardly any time for fog to creep over mountain tops and more than once I have witnessed fog climb that particular nearby mountain and create a sea of white below the peak.
The light just before sunset, just before sunrise is always the sweetest. But that day it was the spiraling clouds, the creeping fog and the gray light that had me standing in my pajamas and fluffy slippers with my mouth hanging open and the words…oh…my…GOD! coming from a deep place of inner awe.
Flying a drone gives a new perspective, a new way to learn about the place in which I live. It helps me rise above everyday attitude as I gain altitude. I love it when Nature gifts me with a phenomena that renders me nearly speechless or a place that cannot be described in words.
The sky said yes this morning.
Even though I was headed to Asheville to stay with friends, I saw a vision of myself standing in the Qualla Art Center in Cherokee and since it was hardly out of the way, I found myself standing in the art center looking at a beautiful hand-crafted knife…a woman’s knife. The hilt was carved from antler in the shape of a bear head and as soon as I picked it up I knew it was a tool to help me cut through illusions and my own BS my mind can produce quite prolifically…it was a tool to assist in my work.
I’m pushing 60…not miles per hour. Sixty years of living in this body….well, not yet but less than a year away. For over a year I’ve been in a process of unearthing my life in preparation for the next part of my journey…stepping into the role of elder. Taking my gifts seriously and using them to help this planet…I hear It crying out for those of us willing and able to do our inner work and then be leaders. Even if we know the ecosystems are failing and hope to save them isn’t present, there’s something powerful about standing amidst the ruin or potential ruin with absolute love and devotion to this magnificent being we call Earth.
So listening to Earth is the assignment. The location is the mountains of North Carolina. That’s the new foundation being laid as I step out in faith and trust; however, the actual ‘getting there’ has not been an easy journey.
After three days of looking at property and homes I wisely scheduled a day of play in the woods. First stop, Greybeard Trail with my camera pack and trusty tripod. The pack seemed overly heavy for two lenses and a camera but I strapped it on and grabbed my tripod. There’s so much water at the beginning of the trail I didn’t have to walk far to find mind-blowing beauty. All the stress of the past few days…honestly, the past 18 months…seemed to ease although I was still angry that nothing was clear about location to move, my home selling in Alabama…all of that ‘loveliness.’
I grew snarly about the bright light. I overslept so didn’t get the soft light of dawn and had to deal with hot-spots on the water which is not a pleasant obstacle when doing exposures that are long. But I made the best of it climbing over huge fallen trees, skidding down rocks and climbing back up after photographing the rocks and water. I played….and played….and that was healing.
My mind wanted to take off….WOO HOO! New wisdom incoming….let’s take it apart and see what it means!!! But I gently resisted the mind’s urge to understand and just sat on the rock, cradled in the rock, and continued to listen…to feel my body let go and become one with the rock. And after I while I got up and thanked it and walked to the car.
I placed my expensive carbon fiber tripod on the top of the car on the padded kayak/paddleboard rack, and loaded my bag into the car. I drove into Black Mountain, parked, ate a huge and wonderful breakfast for lunch and afterwards drove to my friend’s home to play with their dog, feed her, walk in the garden with her….then drove an hour to Brevard…Dupont State Forest…and when I got out the tripod was still on top of my car. It somehow stayed there on interstate travel, on winding mountain roads and nobody stole it when it was laying there for over an hour in Black Mountain. I almost cried with relief. It’s such a wonderful tool when taking long exposures. This was a major miracle. Somehow it stayed with me.
Walking on forest service gravel roads isn’t that easy, especially when carrying weight. And there were hardly any signs…so there was the issue of trusting that I was still on the right road. Finally, I looked at my watch and it indicated 6 minutes until 3pm. Okay…that’s my deadline. If I haven’t gotten some sign or assurance that I’m going in the right direction by 3pm I am turning around. And of course, two people came over the hill and they assured me it was ahead, a bit of a walk still, but not to give up. The woman said, “It would be such a shame to give up now.” Of course, she wasn’t carrying the gear. But still….
But I made it back to the original falls I wanted to see and had a little water to spare in my bottle. But I never made it to downtown Brevard….I wanted to check out the vibe for a potential location to live.
At some point during the evening Steve started sharing his love of cave art and we had an amazing conversation about shamen as being the original artists. They were able to touch the unseen world and bring back the essence of it through their art. He talked of the connecting flow of the visible world and the world of spirit…and it reminded me of the studies I did years ago with the Foundation for Shamanic Studies and the work I do in meditation…or whatever you wish to call it…where I connect with nature through the energy that connects us all.
The next morning I left my friend’s home to journey back to the coast. I decided to have breakfast in Brevard to see if I could feel more of the vibe needed to confirm a destination for living. The hike in nearby Dupont had clearly shown me the water and rocks abounded and mountain biking is a huge ‘thing’ there so that was a huge smiley face on the idea of relocating there.
Think. Like. A. Rock.
He stood at the edge of the swamp–antlers upright, eyes staring at me. It was the briefest of glances but I still remember the steam rising from the murky water and streaming from his nostrils as he sniffed and snorted. Magnificent, strong, ruler of his domain, the encounter with the buck has remained burned into my memory…in my heart….and every time I pedal past that gap in the trees I glance to see if he is there. Five years ago…and he’s still there in my mind.
After slowly awakening this morning, I picked up my iPad to check email and realized that for over six years I have opened email in the morning expecting a message. A message from him. I didn’t realize that simple act of finger touching glass was an act of hope. Why this came to consciousness today I don’t know. There is no pining away or waiting for him…I go on with life…so it was a surprise that there’s still the hope lingering….hanging like a thread. I had no idea…
And that’s where I find myself these days….embracing that nature child whose wisdom is intact, who knows that Oneness isn’t just a flaky idea, who still hugs trees and talks to whales and dolphins and manatees….and spirits that few others feel.
The Magical Nature Child…all roads lead home to Her. Every thread of memory weaves the tapestry of life that is Her playground, Her sacred realm. This then is where compassion and kindness reside and love for all life is treasured. This then is the place of beauty and sacredness for all life…it’s where instinctual wisdom blooms like a lotus blossom every time I sink my toes in the mud.
I was watching the movie, Hostiles, and heard myself saying out-loud tearfully, “I have to return. I have to go back!” A Native American elder was returning to his home as a dying wish after incarceration by the US government.
Since I was a child the Appalachian Mountains have called me. When my parents asked my brother and me where we wanted to go on vacation I’d prompt my brother to say…the MOUNTAINS! He didn’t….but I tried. Anything to get back there…to spend time in those sacred and most-ancient mountains on the planet. I remember feeling so at home there and so much myself…so connected to the land and my own bones. Then the leaving….was heart-rending.
I lived there for six years and loved it but felt called to the shores of my birth where I’ve spent six years healing and connecting with energies needed to finish the process of preparing me for the next step in the journey.
Any time an impending move is explored, there are questions and ponderings. Before I put my energy 100% behind something as big as this, I want to be sure. So last night before bed I asked to be given a sign pointing me to where I feel called.
After not sleeping much I checked email during the night and found an email from a dear friend referring to my move to the Asheville area. And then tonight….the movie and the message directly from my soul, “I have to return! I have to go back!”
I don’t know how life works…how we feel ancestral connections so strongly and why our bones vibrate with some places so strongly. I can only surrender to the dance of my heart’s rhythm and the song of my soul as it guides me gently back, back, back to those ancient mountains.
Home…ultimately it is the Self, not an outward geographic location. And yet there are places that urge us inward and support and nurture that journey of the Pilgrim…the Fool’s travels on the Tree of Life…the Spiritual Warrior’s Empty-Handed Leap into the Void.
I. AM. READY.