Open air therapy

Photo by Dzenina Lukac on Pexels.com

Lost in the woods.  Not lost as in, “Where am I?”  Rather, lost in self.  Blessed to lose myself for half an hour spending mindful time in the woods.  Refreshed, renewed and reawakened in body, soul and spirit.  The Japanese have known of it for years:  Shinrin-Yoku; literally, forest bathing (being in the presence of trees).  I like that. 

Studies show that those who spend just two hours a week outdoors report substantially better health and psychological well-being.  I believe it.  In times of despair, the still small voice within me often whispers, “Daughter, go outside”; and I go. 

Open-air therapy—it costs nothing and has no ill side effects. 

Gazing over the countryside, I day-dream of the little writer’s studio, perfectly situated along the little creek bordering our property.  It’s a dream I’ve had for quite some time—one yet to manifest.  When suddenly ,,, shhh, quiet; it’s the whisper once again.  “Daughter, look around you.  This is your writer’s studio, perfectly designed with you in mind”.    Blessed speechless.

I believe in the woods, and in the beaches, and in the fields and mountains.  God’s sanctuary of healing, rest and peace.  A place of absolute freedom, where creativity flows.  A place perfectly designed with mankind in mind.

So, whether practicing social distancing, or in a Covid-19 self-quarantine, I’m spending time outside, wrapped securely in the loving arms of my Creator God.  Surrounded by the Heavenly Cure. 

Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.  Henry David Thoreau.

Hope Springs Eternal

Bluebells speak to me in my heart language–a prophetic sign of better days ahead. My husband has given me a bouquet of first blooms every Spring since we were teenagers. We came across these little beauties on our walk yesterday. Hope springs eternal.

Love & Peace,

And, who would have known that …

In the United KingdomH. non-scripta is a protected species under the Wildlife and Countryside Act 1981. Landowners are prohibited from removing common bluebells on their land for sale and it is a criminal offence to remove the bulbs of wild common bluebells.[26] This legislation was strengthened in 1998 under Schedule 8 of the Act making any trade in wild common bluebell bulbs or seeds an offence, punishable by fines of up to £5,000 per bulb.[10][27]  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hyacinthoides_non-scripta

Nature speaks

Every time you feel in God’s creatures something pleasing and attractive, do not let your attention be arrested by them alone, but, passing them by, transfer your thoughts to God and say: “O my God, if Thy creations are so full of beauty, delight and joy, how infinitely more full of beauty, delight and joy are Thou Thyself, Creator of all!”

Nicodemus of the Holy Mountain

Love & Peace,

A Walk In The Woods


“I think that I cannot preserve my health and spirits, unless I spend four hours a day at least–and it is commonly more than that–sauntering through the woods and over the hills and fields, absolutely free from all worldly engagements.”  Henry David Thoreau.

Today I walk towards the west.  Not my usual starting-out direction.  But the west seems to be calling me today—a subtle magnetism.  My heart compass follows.

I leave the road and venture into the woods and the meadows and the fields.  A yellow-marked trail points the way.  Whether I follow the trail, God only knows.  My needle trumps yellow-marked trails.  Always seeming to settle on my true north.

In the walking, I ascend deep into the heights of communion with God.  (The beauty of nature is always meant to be a means of connection.)   Minutes turn into quarter hours; half hours into hours.  I am lost in prayerful thought—a comfortable place for me.

I descend.  No yellow-marked trail.  In fact, no trail at all.  I had come to an intersection at some point in my prayer journey.  A one-road crossroad—the trail before me and the wild to the left and right of me.  Needle took me off the trail.  Go figure.

Peering through the trees, a paved road appears at a distance.  I make my way to it.  Surely, I can’t be too far from home.  I must have been on this road before.  Yet, the familiar things I search for to give me my bearings are not there.  I left the path and now I am lost.  And I am not good with lost.

No choice but to start walking.  Just keep walking.

Faith—the certainty that what we hope for is waiting for us, even though we cannot see it up ahead—whispers into my fears.

All those who wander are not lost.  There is a purpose in your wanderings.  Trust God.  He is with you on your sojourn. 

Sometimes you must wander but soon enough, you will discover that you are on your destiny path.  Just keep wandering, one step at a time, until your path becomes clear.

And then … I see it up ahead.

The familiar in the midst of the unfamiliar. 

I am almost home.

One more destiny path blazed in the untamed wild of my soul.

 

 

 

It All Becomes Clear on the Mountain

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You are a prophet of caves, rocks and deserts”, she states wittingly—my poetic, thought-provoking teacher of all things spiritual.  The one who uses extraordinary words like “coruscate” and “obfuscate” and “mercurial” in our ordinary, every-day chats.

Standing still inside myself, I reckon, “It takes one to know one”.

Wilderness wanderers eating the locust and wild honey of life—the revelation of creation that declares the Majesty of God.  We give thanks and eat.  Our spirits strengthened with each taste.

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We reach the top of Maine’s Little Kineo Mountain.  Spectacular scene.  Bathed in the glorious sunlight above the treetops.  Free of a shadowed view.  We eat the vision.

And then…something happens.

Although the air is still, a thunderous roar comes from the sky.  An intense sound—like that of a jumbo jet engine.  Like the sound of a mighty rushing wind.  We stand motionless in holy fear as what can only be described as the very presence of God moves upon the mountaintop.  Both feel it.  Both experience it.  Both awe-struck.

Next morning, I search, and He reveals.  Kineo, a Greek word meaning to move; to set in motion.  Where we get our English word kinetics. 

“For in Him we live, and move (kineo) and have our being… “.  I recall the Apostle’s words.

Something moved upon us on Mount Kineo that day.   Someone moved upon us and within us, and we were moved.

A mountaintop experience–not meant to teach but to transform.

It all becomes clear on the mountain.

Standing still inside myself, I know who I am.  Yes, I am a prophet of caves, rocks and deserts.   And the mountains.  

My iPhone signals.   A text message awaits.  It’s her.  “Have you been to the mountains lately?”

The mountains call and I run.

 

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Harvest moon takes its final bow

As the night sky draws to a close

 Caught in a twilight moment in time

I peer through the gossamer veil.

Sun crowns the east with fiery passion

Earth surrounded by Light’s embrace

God breathes into her His tender compassions

carried upon the wings of the dawn.

 

via Photo Challenge: Glow