BC Wilderness Visions

Part 2: Aggressive owl clouts runner on the head

Well, after my magical experience on Wednesday night, I was quite looking forward to my run Thursday night, hoping to see the great grey owls again. On the way down the trail, I didn’t see them, but I thought it was still too early. It wasn’t quite dusk yet. On the way back, sure enough, as I neared the same spot where I had seen the owls Wednesday night, suddenly an owl flew over my head, landing on a branch nearby.

I stopped, and bowed to the owl, thanking it for coming to visit me again. I opened my awareness to pure consciousness, wanting to sense the field of the owl and listen for anything it might be wanting to tell me. After a few moments, I heard a sound behind me. I turned to look, and the second owl was there, on a branch about the height of my head, only about six feet away. What a gift, to have the owls trust me and come so close!

When I turned back to look at the first owl, it was gone, but suddenly it swooped over my head again. I remembered stories about great grey owls that I’ve heard from friends recently, and recalled that they can be aggressive, even knocking peoples’ hats off their head. It occurred to me that maybe the owl was telling me to hit the road, that I was too close to the nest or something. I said this to the owls, that I would continue on my way, and turned to continue running up the path. Next thing I knew, one of the owls had struck me very forcefully on the top of my head. Ouch! What a shock! It was a forceful blow, quite amazing considering these owls only weigh about four pounds.

Okay, okay, I get the message, I’m leaving! I thought. I continued to run up the path, and one of the owls swooped very close to my head again, though it didn’t strike me this time. It continued swooping in loops alongside me a few more times, until I came to the same bend in the road as the previous night. There the two owls perched, and watched as I left their territory. I paused to say goodbye, voicing the fact that I didn’t much like being struck that way, but still appreciated their presence.

As I continued up the next bit of trail, the full impact of what had happened sunk in. I began to cry as I ran. My head hurt, but what hurt more was my heart. I had been so open to the presence of the birds, feeling like it was a gift. I thought I was special, and that the encounter was proof that I have some kind of special connection with nature. I have longed for closeness with wild creatures, and the night before it had seemed this was what was happening. And also it had seemed a clear answer to a question I was holding. In previous times, when people were closer to the land, the land and her creatures were ensouled with meaning, and such encounters had significance. I had sought this significance myself, but in feeling physically hurt, it seemed all of this was wiped away. I was just a fool on a run, blundering through an owl’s territory, unwelcome. All of this wounded my pride, my identity, shook up my view of reality.

Suddenly I had more sympathy for people who feel frightened of nature. Perhaps this is what was most upsetting about the encounter (and also the gift, to understand how others feel). I have always felt nature is a friendly place, or at worst neutral. But it’s a place I have felt safe, and have trusted. This encounter shook that trust. I don’t know yet the full impact on me.

Tags: great grey owl, running, Seymour River

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Part 1: I heard the owl call the chefs’ names

Something quite wonderful happened on my run in the Seymour Forest on Wednesday night that I must tell you about. I did a 90-minute run along the Seymour River, where I always finish by coming up a steep 1 KM trail called the Homestead Trail. There is a bend in the trail near the top, right before the steepest section, with a creek bed that is usually dry but very green and filled with ferns. The trees are very old here, some of them huge, and the clear forest floor is red from the accumulation of dry pine needles. It is a beautiful spot on the run. As I was coming up to this spot I was thinking about the idea of Joe and Wahl doing the cooking at the ChiRunning and Yoga Retreat next year, turning it over in my mind.

Suddenly, as I neared the bend, a great grey owl flew over my head! It wasn’t totally silent, otherwise I wouldn’t have heard it… It came to rest on a branch overhead, and I stopped to say hello and thank it for its presence. It was dusk, so I couldn’t see details clearly, but the owl seemed to be grey, rounded head (no visible ear tufts like the great horned owl), with lighter feathers at the bottom of the tail. The owl looked at me for a long time, and after a while it made a sound like FFFFFsh. and then I heard another sound behind me. I looked, but couldn’t see what had made the sound. Then I realized there was a second great grey owl behind me!

I hung out with them both for about 10 minutes. They flew around a bit, coming closer to me to get a better look! Silent, puffy flight, but noise hopping from a branch to a lower branch, and once or twice noise opening their wings. One time I looked at one and the other one flew away without me hearing a thing. But they seemed interested in me, flew to nearer branches, both looked at me. They also both flew at each other and dislocated the roosting one from a branch. It was such a wonderful gift!

For reasons which I can’t reveal here, it was obvious that nature was providing a very clear answer to the question about the chefs. Joe and Wahl absolutely must come and do the cooking next time! Grey owl said so! And I was thrilled both to have this magical encounter, and to have what I thought was a very clear answer to a question, for a change!

Tags: cooking, great grey owl, Seymour River

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Is yoga and ChiRunning the answer?

Last weekend, Angela James and I, along with two musicians and eight participants, had a fantastic time at the ChiRunning and yoga retreat at Monkey Valley. It was the most beautiful time of year, with flowers of dozens of varieties in bloom, the grass waist-high, and visiting birds of many colours flitting through the willows by the creek. We had delicious meals, moments of quiet contemplation during the morning meditations, exciting discoveries about ChiRunning, relaxation and enjoyment during the yoga, and incredible fun around the campfire with the sing-along, guitar music, cello numbers, and smores! We went for a swim in Missezula Lake, and some of us ran back to Monkey Valley from there. It felt like a real blessing to me to see the posse of runners up ahead, running along the logging road. As if my heart’s desire had been answered by sharing this magical place with other runners.

Last entry, I was musing about how I am being called to serve my people. Last summer (or maybe the summer before) my friend John Harper had asked me the astonishing question “What if the universe doesn’t want you to do anything?” The heart of this question, it seems to me, is considering the possibility that I don’t have to crawl a hundred miles on hands and knees, but can just let the soft animal of my body love what it loves (to paraphrase Mary Oliver). That is, maybe there is nothing in particular I need to do. Just be. Maybe I don’t need to stop the oil eruption, or change the way Canadians feel about banking, forever (my current client’s dream), or lead people on intensive vision quests in the wilderness. Maybe I can just be an ordinary person, and see what unfolds.

The yoga and ChiRunning retreat unfolded with absolute ease from the moment I took Angela’s workshop in January. Certainly there was some hard work involved along the way, especially in cooking for 12 people, but there was a flow and element of surprise and delight throughout, such as when my friend Darch offered to come a day early and help out. It seems to me that this type of flow and ease is what I long for, and what seems like true guidance about direction. I continue to hold the question as my summer unfolds, with another trip to Monkey Valley coming up and then the annual Diamond Approach summer retreat at Asilomar later in August. Maybe my desire to serve in some big, special way is just an ego trip, and all I need to be is an ordinary person, special just because I am, just like you are special just because you are.

Tags: ChiRunning, yoga for running, yoga retreat

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Musings on oil and vision quests

I have been feeling shocked, horrified, and deeply saddened by the environmental damage caused by the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. I am sure that millions of people feel the same way.  We evolved as a species along with the other species on this earth, and are deeply affected by the massive devastation the oil spill is causing to the ocean, seashore, and many creatures living there.

To quote from an article about ecological trauma on the Greenpeace website, “Regardless of prevailing conceits, we retain learned patterns from 50 million years of primate evolution, 5 million years of hominid development, and 500,000 years of fire-bearing, tool-making hunter-gatherer culture. During this long genesis, humanity grew within the comfort and constraints of an intact ecosystem that supplied sustenance, vital lessons, wonder, and a home. Watching that home fall under the blade of industrialism shocks our system, whether we know it or not…

“In spite of our civilised ways, human psychology remains linked to our primal origins. As a result, we suffer the trauma of witnessing ecological abuse, watching wilderness obliterated, other creatures eradicated, and the Earth diminished.”

In 2004, I became inspired to study ecopsychology at Naropa University because of my desire to do something positive with my life to help preserve the animals and wild places that remain. I was also motivated by my feelings of helplessness and hatred towards the human race for what we are doing to the planet. Fortunately for me, and for the many other students at Naropa, the education there is built on a contemplative foundation. Through meditation and other practices, I learned to bring presence and a deeper awareness to my studies and my life. Experiences of the deeper truth of reality helped me to see the beauty and inherent goodness of life. Without this awareness I think it would have been intolerable to continue living in the world the way it is today. It is a miracle to me that my feelings of helplessness and hatred were transformed into feelings of hope, a deep love for the inner journey, and a commitment to doing what I can for the earth in a way that I can offer lightly and with joy.

How is this possible? Partly it is from the experiences of the deeper truth of reality, which helps give me a bigger perspective with which to hold traumatic events such as the oil spill (perhaps better described as an endless eruption of oil). A commitment to this deeper truth helps me to make my inner journey the first priority. I believe that our first task is to mature as human beings into the majestic creatures of being that we are born to be. Or at least do our best in this task! The second goal for me is to do what I can to protect and care for the earth and her creatures in the way that best uses my abilities, energy, and love. To me this means choosing action that I can take from a place of joy, rather than despair.

When I graduated from Naropa, I chose the work of being a vision quest guide as the way I had learned that brought me the strongest sense of joy, excitement, and love for my people. I thought that by guiding others to undertake a vision quest, I would be serving through helping them mature as humans and connect with their love of the earth. In this way, however the participants might choose to serve their people after the quest, they would be nourished by their connection with the earth, and perhaps guided by their love for the earth at times when it is necessary to choose a course of action.

I threw myself wholeheartedly into the path of the vision quest, seeking training with the School of Lost Borders and offering annual programs at BC Wilderness Visions. However, the results have been very modest! I have guided one faster per year, in addition to apprenticing on group fasts. This summer no fasters have decided to undertake this journey at Monkey Valley. It makes me wonder if not this, then what? Where am I being called to serve? I hold this as an open question, and am abiding in the not-knowing place of the threshold phase of the vision quest ceremony. Rather than rushing to fill the void with something new, I await deeper guidance and certainty.

It is so complex to be a human being living in North America at this time in history. We are dependent upon oil, like it or not. We all need to earn a living, and must spend a significant portion of our waking hours doing so. We can decide not to consume needlessly, and we can choose options that seem to cause the least harm, such as growing some of our own food or buying locally grown, organic produce (though many people cannot afford even this most basic choice for health). One of the things I needed to make peace with at Monkey Valley was that even though I was using solar power, I still needed to use my gas-powered car to get there. I continue to drive, too often and too fast, as long as I own that land and travel there, but also in my daily commutes around the city of Vancouver. I spend many hours a week engaged in earning a living as a technical writer, which is an effective way to pay the bills but does not help serve my planet or my people in a way that feels meaningful to me.

I feel my heart’s longing to do something worthwhile with this life. To serve my people and my planet in the best way I can, in the way I am meant to do. I guess today’s entry is my way of asking for guidance, and stating my intention. There is an excitement in the not knowing, and the longing, as I abide in this place. In the past I have shied away from direct environmental action, aside from financial contributions and participating in protests and petitions. I hold the possibility that I will be called to move into this arena more specifically.  At dinner time I often thank our dear earth mother for the blessings from her body, and pray that the nourishment may help me do her work. May it be so.

Tags: ecopsychology, environmental trauma, Gulf of Mexico, Naropa University, oil spill

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Klondike Road Relay: The madness continues!

Well, folks, I’ve signed up for the running adventure of a lifetime! My friend Gordon sponsors a team for the Klondike Road Relay, and he has invited me to join the team this year. The race takes place on September 10 – 11, beginning at 7 PM in Skagway, Alaska, and finishing some 20 hours later in Whitehorse, Yukon Territory! The race covers 176.5 KM, with 10 legs varying from 9 to 25.6 KM. Teams can vary from 6 to 10 members.

I will be running leg 4 of the race, which is 21 KM long. This leg will begin at about 1:00 AM at the Canada Customs post between Alaska and BC, and will finish at Tutshi Lake. Gordon ran this leg last year (he’s run 8 of the 10 legs so far), and said it’s mostly downhill. Uh huh! Well, sounds good to me. There’s nothing like running through the wilderness in the dark!

This relay race has been going since 1982, with a really big turnout in 1998, the centennial of the Gold Rush Stampede. In 1998 there were 161 teams. Unlike in the actual stampede, we will not be required to run with 1,000 pounds of gear on our back!

There’s 10 weeks until the race, and I’ve prepared a great training schedule for myself. My sister Kim, who is doing a master’s degree in psychology, suggested I conduct a single-subject study on endorphin release during distance running. So I will be keeping track of how happy I feel as this training progresses! Yes, running can lead to an altered state, which is why a lot of us do it. (Plus we get to eat all the chocolate we want!) I’ll keep you posted.

Tags: Klondike Road Relay, running

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Medicine walk and 5th anniversary of BC Wilderness Visions

BC Wilderness Visions and the Monkey Valley Retreat Centre celebrates its 5th anniversary of nature programs this summer! The first program was a medicine wheel teaching in the summer of 2005, when 25 people came to Monkey Valley and created a beautiful medicine wheel. Teachers Joyce Lyke and Tracy Leach taught us how to walk the wheel, and people came from California, Wyoming, Ontario, Alberta, and from as far away as the UK to attend this special teaching. The wheel is still there, and last May I lined the spring-to-summer quarter of it with stones. This summer I plan to fill in the next quarter of the wheel.

July also marks the two-year anniversary of this blog! Two years ago my friend John Harper encouraged me to begin writing about ecopsychology and the work I do in nature. Since then I have shared many stories of the land at Monkey Valley, wilderness work, and my happy trails and trials running. Writing this blog has been an expression of my heart as I have shared stories with you of the things that I love. The creativity of writing whatever I feel like in a blog format has felt like a flow of fun and lightness of spirit (with an occasional dash of despair about my unruly ways). I sometimes wonder if anyone reads this blog, but I do hear from one or two readers from time to time! So please join me in celebrating this two-year anniversary, and drop me a note to let me know you’re out there!

This year I am offering a new program at Monkey Valley, together with Angela James—the ChiRunning and yoga retreat July 23 – 25. In addition, it will be the third summer in a row of putting a faster out on the land to fast for a vision, using the ancient and modern ceremony of the vision fast. And, on June 20, I brought the four-shields teaching and medicine walk to Vancouver in a new day-long format.

Two beautiful souls accompanied me to the forest beside the Seymour River in North Vancouver, where we created an altar in a clearing on the bank of the river. Using the form of speaking from the heart known as council practice, we did several rounds. The first round was in honour of our fathers and Father’s Day. It was very moving to express appreciation for the gifts our fathers have given us. The second round was in honour of the summer solstice. Then the participants spoke of their intention for their medicine walks.

Although it was a cloudy day, the land was lush and green, and bursting with salmon berries. Although the participants were to fast from food, shelter, and human companionship during their walks, I left it up to their own inner guidance whether to make like bears and enjoy the berries! While my two friends went on their three-hour walks, I sat beside the river, and drank in the silence and beauty. The water rushed by, green and playful. Sometimes the spumes of white foam curling over rocks looked like little skunks swimming upstream. Swallows swooped low, eating bugs in the air over the river, and one swallow circled, swooped, and darted around in a long loop about five times before seeking new bugscapes. A bald eagle flew upriver high overhead, and a pair of ducks sped downstream in a formation as tight as fighter pilots. What a gift it was to have this unhurried time to watch nature do her thing. As time went on the quieting of my mind deepened, and the trees across the river began to reveal their mysteries in a way that the ordinary waking mind cannot hear.

The richness of my solo time was enhanced by knowing my companions would be back soon, with stories to tell of what happened on their walks. They returned with gifts of stories and berries, and we ate a meal together in the circle before sharing the stories. It was very moving to hear how the land and her creatures had interacted with my friends on their walks. I felt a deep appreciation for this special place, and for the people who were willing to take time to be with themselves in a quiet, intimate way. After we closed the circle, packed our things, and said goodbye to the spot that had held our ceremony, we hiked out through the forest trails feeling a little lighter and closer to our hearts.

Tags: anniversary, ChiRunning, medicine walk, medicine wheel, vision fast

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Wisdom of the Four Directions—June 2011

Finding Healing and Guidance in Nature:
A Summer Solstice Celebration

June 25, 2011 – Vancouver

“Journeys start from where we are. Everything starts from where we are. Where we are is where we’re supposed to be.” – Evelyn Eaton, The Shaman and the Medicine Wheel

This day-trip in the North Shore mountains, just 20 minutes from downtown Vancouver, and 10 minutes from the Commercial Drive area, will teach you tools and ceremonies for working in nature to access your own inner guidance and the guidance that nature can bring. This could be in the form of answers to questions, deepening connection with the greater mystery, healing, letting go, accepting, or gaining new strength. Whatever you need is available to you, and can be reflected to you through the mirror of nature. You will learn different ways of working with the four directions to access this guidance.

Our ceremony will begin with setting our intentions for the day and creating a sacred container for learning by creating an altar together. You will learn the four shields, an ancient model of understanding the psyche of humans and nature. Each shield corresponds to a cardinal direction, with its own colours, textures, seasons, stages of life, and qualities of true nature.

Then you’ll explore what you’ve learned on a solo medicine walk. After brief instruction, you will go on your own solo walk in nature, seeking guidance from our dear earth mother and her diverse creatures. Following in the footsteps of our ancestors from many cultures and traditions, this solo time includes fasting from food, human company, and human-built shelters. At the end of the day we will break our fast together with brown-bag lunches while we share our stories with each other around the circle.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011 is the summer solstice. Sunday, June 19 is Father’s Day. Spending time in nature with your Dad might be the perfect way to deepen your connection with each other while celebrating the turning of the year in sacred ceremony. If bringing your Dad isn’t practical, perhaps you’d like to spend your solo medicine walk in a contemplation of how to heal, celebrate, or enrich your relationship with your father. I offer this as a possibility because this daytrip takes place the Saturday after Father’s Day.

If looking at your relationship with your father is not timely for you, bring along a question or area of your life that you’d enjoy the opportunity to delve into more deeply.

9:00 AM to 5:00 PM Saturday
We’ll meet at a location in the Commercial Drive area and carpool from there. Bring your lunch. Wear comfortable shoes for walking on hiking trails, as part of the day will be spent wandering through the woods by the Seymour River.

Cost: $30 (free for those who wish to participate and the fee is an obstacle)
To register, please fill in the online Registration Form. For payment information, see Fees.

Tags: Four Directions, four shields, medicine wheel, setting intentions, summer solstice 2010

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Blown away by my own incredibleness

How’s that for a brag! I think this time I have earned the right to boast. I’m 44 years old. I smoked very heavily for 25 of those years. I never thought I would beat the 1-hour mark for a 10K run. And my time last night on the Longest Day Run was 55:50! Oh My God!!! Valley Girl squeals!!!

I wasn’t trying that hard. I started slow, trying to keep to a comfortable pace. I positioned myself up near the front, so I wouldn’t have the problem of having to pass people constantly. Instead, for the first minute or two people were passing me. But this was a totally different race than the international event of the Vancouver marathon. It had a grassroots, community feel, and the numbers of people were much lower. So I didn’t have the same issue with being crowded. Most of the course was very spacious, except for one short bit where the width was just two runners wide. Anyway, trying to go slow, I found that my time for the first 1K was 5:45. Not slow! (For someone who has a 7 minute per KM training pace, and a half-marathon pace of 6 minutes per KM.)

As the kilometres ticked out I noticed that I was sustaining a pace that was well under 6 minutes, which meant that unless something unforeseen happened, I was going to beat the 1 hour mark. I guess this kept my effort strong. I was pushing myself beyond a comfortable pace, it’s true, but also enjoying the beauty of the sunshine, the sky, and the UBC campus. I felt kindly towards my fellow runners, for the most part. Much less reactivity than in the last race. (One incident, which I will relate soon, was an exception to this!)

In the second half of a race I always feel more confident, as I’ve made it halfway and know I can do the same again. Since I was already running so strongly there wasn’t as much room to increase my pace in the second half, but I started using the focuses I’d learned at Angela’s ChiRunning workshop. Lifting my feet to kick them up behind, feeling a lightness and looseness in my stride (a smooth-moving organism, with no hitches or glitches, just effortless freedom of movement). I also used the eyes-ahead focus, looking on runners ahead of me rather than at the ground. And strangely enough, this drew me forward to pass the runners ahead, over and over… At one point an eagle soared overhead, and that really seemed a blessing.

After I passed the 8KM mark I decided to hold nothing back, and ran even faster. I was right at that threshold of anaerobic activity, where I was working harder and using more oxygen than my body could take in. I love playing at that edge. And I must say, race time is the only time I get the chance to do it, as I can never run this fast when I’m on my own. A gift of the race, definitely. So for the last two kilometres I was really running hard, and then, I had my little moment of reactivity. Gliding along the sidewalk in that effortless smooth way, with other runners sparsely situated ahead and behind, someone from the 5K race (identified as such by a different bib colour) was walking up the race path in the opposite direction from the race. There was plenty of room on the grass beside the sidewalk, and room all around, so why was this guy walking on the racecourse? It felt like a disruption in the flow, and a lack of respect for the racers (and me in particular!), and it pissed me off.

As I passed him I couldn’t contain myself and I said “Arrogant prick.” I heard two women nearby snicker a bit. I felt a boost of adrenaline flood my body, and I was off, running even faster than before! At this point I was only a few hundred metres from the finish line, though I didn’t know it as I had missed seeing the 9K marker. I just let the extra energy move me on, speculating as I did so whether this was a positive thing or not. In that moment it felt pretty fucking good, let me tell you!

I came around a corner and heard the announcer and saw the finish line ahead. I could hear two women coming up behind me, and I just didn’t want to let them pass me. So I ran even harder, and discovered the incredible blessing of a grassy lane as the final stretch, right through the finish line. Wow! Running on the green earth. I gave everything I had, and I could see the time on the clock at the finish line as I got closer. It was 55 something! I pushed even harder, and I couldn’t help but say “Holy Shit!” as I ran under the Finish banner and saw that my time was under 56 minutes. Oh my god!!

I almost fainted from lack of oxygen, so walked around the big green grassy field for a while, getting my breath back and feeling the euphoria of knowing I’d done something I’d never thought I could do. What a great race! I loved everyone who was in it, and all the people who volunteered and put it on.

I usually like to leave right after a race, but this time I stayed. I talked to some other runners, and did my post-race yoga in the big grassy field. Then I partook of the amazing feast that the North Shore Credit Union and race organizers had put out. Beautiful fresh strawberries and watermelon, veggies, hot dogs and burgers, chips and cookies. People sat on the grass to eat, and cheered as the announcements were made about the race results. I sat on the grass and ate the food and enjoyed the bonhomie of this celebration of running, community, and the longest day of the year. Wonderful!

One added benefit of organized road races is that they always raise money for a worthy cause. This time it was to fund research for a cure for Juvenile Diabetes. So that’s another reason to feel good about doing this crazy thing called racing. I also wanted to mention to you the innovation in timing chips. The last few half-marathons I was in, the timing chips were disposable, which meant race volunteers didn’t need to cut the chip from our shoes and put them in a bucket. This time, the timing chip was built right into the race bib! It is amazing to consider that 10,000 years ago, humans were living a hunter-gatherer-fisher lifestyle. And now, this! Isn’t this world a strange and marvellous place?

Tags: 10K race, ChiRunning, Juvenile Diabetes, Longest Day Race, North Shore Credit Union, running

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Running into summer

Well, I guess I’m a sucker. After my experience with the Vancouver Half Marathon 2010 I thought I might never go in another race again. But I’ve signed up for the Longest Day Road Race, a 10K run on Friday, June 18th. The unique thing about this race, besides the fact that it is in honour of the summer solstice, is that it takes place at 7 PM in the evening! Dusk is my favourite time of day to run, and I just decided to go for it.

Luckily it is a small race, so I may not have the same kind of frustration with the crowds that I described to you previously. It will also be another chance to practice equanimity. After attending Dan Brown’s meditation retreat in Vancouver, followed by another Diamond Approach weekend, I have noticed my reactivity has subsided substantially. This relief from suffering was something that Dan promised on the first day of the retreat, and it is really true—experiencing and understanding reality through the meditation practices that he taught have caused a major shift in my reactivity. Along with that has come a new gentleness towards myself, whatever I might be experiencing. So if you ever get a chance to work with Dan Brown, I highly recommend it. It is a precious opportunity.

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Your one wild and precious life

Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
- Mary Oliver, 1992

Do you ever wonder what you’re doing with your life, and whether it is truly fulfilling your deepest joy, your purpose here, right now, on this earth, in this lifetime? Do you ever feel like maybe you’re not quite in alignment with your deepest values? Do you seek to find the right balance for yourself between obligations to your self, your people, your work, and your place?

It is a precious gift to have the chance to live in a body on this beautiful earth. I’d like to tell you about two events that celebrate both the earth and our connection to it.

Radical Joy for Hard Times is celebrating our love for the earth through an event called the Global Earth Exchange, on June 19. This is a do-it-yourself kind of event, where you find a place near where you live that has been wounded, perhaps by human activities or perhaps by a natural disaster. Go there on June 19, with a few friends or alone, and create something of beauty in that place. It could be a song, drumming, bringing flowers, planting a tree, picking up trash, or anything else you might like to do to bring beauty to the area. That’s it. Pretty simple. Just letting your heart express its love for the earth by caring for a place that could use a little attention. If you’d like to be a part of the event in a more formal way, there are resources on the Global Earth Exchange web site.

If you are wondering how to connect with the earth and bring your gifts into the world, I invite you to join me on a medicine walk on June 20. I’d love to share with you this ceremonial way of walking on the earth and seeking guidance from the more-than-human world. I’ve reduced the fee to $30, but heck, if money is an issue for you, you can participate for free. Just use the form on the Registration page to sign up, and I’ll contact you with the details about where to meet on the morning of the 20th. Then we’ll carpool to the Seymour River (about a 15-minute drive) and spend a day together in the woods.

Both of these events occur on the weekend of the summer solstice. Connecting with the earth in a conscious way is a wonderful way to mark the turning of the seasons. If neither of these events appeal to you, perhaps you will find your own way to mark the passage from spring into summer.

Tags: Global Earth Exchange, medicine walk, Radical Joy for Hard Times, summer solstice

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