Sundays are Spirituality Day here at Taking it to the Streets
I went camping this weekend with 3 very dear friends. It was a short trip. KJ, Trish and I met at Annemarie’s house on Saturday at noon and we were back there to divvy up our stuff today around 2 PM. Just a short trip up over the border into Wisconsin at one of their beautiful state parks.
I kept noticing how happy we all were. In the moment, either attending to the little tasks of camping (and there are many such) or just sitting. For all of us, major ‘do-ers’ that sense of ‘nowhere to go, nothing to do’ was foreign and liberating.
I think one of the precipitating factors is just being outside, in nature, and in community with one another. No other distracting focus. No obligations. Lots of trees. Being with what Mother Nature dished up without mitigating it. It’s hot? You sweat. It starts to rain? you break camp quickly and get a little wet.
But what I wanted to tell you about was the view from my tent. A few years ago I got a fancy new tent. I’ve only camped in it once. Put the tent up last night and realized the weather report was saying the same thing the sky was saying – isn’t gonna rain over night – all is clear. So for the first time ever I didn’t put my rainfly on.
My new tent has a screened roof – the tent equivalent of a moonroof, I guess. And you know? it WAS! I got into bed, turned off my flashlight, looked up and —— oh wow! Far from cities the sky was a crowded expressway of stars. Closer to earth the fireflies were still dancing their magical summer dance. Suddenly summer seemed magical and I felt my 8 year old kid inside filled with excited delight.
For some reason this year summer has been evoking my deceased mom. Very odd as she wasn’t exactly an outdoors type of girl. But I’ve been my just missing her and remembering being a kid.
Last night I wondered was it THAT mama I’ve been missing or the Great Mother? As I nestled down into my bed feeling tinier than my 8 year old self, dwarfed by the trees and the river of stars it felt safe and cozy rather than small and forlorn. I felt myself a part of that immensity and felt the nurturing presence of the Mother. I drifted into a dreamless, delicious sleep, so very grateful.
That was my church this week – the southern Kettle Moraine, the river of stars and the fireflies own star-river-dance.