There was a berry-filled bank of bushes containing the gold to ruby tones of salmon berries, and we stopped to sample these on our way to the basecamp site, and again on our way back up the trail at the end of the day. It is so wonderful to find literal as well as figurative nourishment from nature, freely offered! One of the gifts of the south and summertime is the lush fruits of the earth, there to pluck and to share with the other creatures.

Once our shelter was ready, we set up an altar with coloured stones for the four directions. Each person placed an object that was special to them on the altar, and we had a circle-round of sharing our current state in the moment and our intentions for the walk. I felt very moved by how strongly each person had felt called to come on this walk to explore something they cared deeply about. When I set the date and put out the offering for the day’s event, I offered the day quite lightly (partly because I never know if anyone will want to accept the offer), but it seems to send forth an energetic beam that draws people who are really into what I am offering. This is magical to me, and I am so grateful. As I have mentioned previously on this blog, the flow of events unfolding is an important indicator to me of how to offer my gifts into the world. If I offer something and there is no response, I conclude either it is not the right time, or it is not the right offering. This year three people came, and a few others almost came, so this tells me the flow is happening! And that bringing the nature teaching closer to Vancouver (rather than only offering events at Monkey Valley) was a good idea. I feel so psyched about the medicine walk day that I am inspired to offer a yoga and the four directions workshop in the same location in September!

After a teaching on the four directions, and some grounding in safety principles for their solo walk, the three participants set off on their three-hour meander through the woods. When they returned, all safe and not even too wet considering the heavy downpour that occurred during the first hour of their walk, I felt joyful to see their faces. We had a late lunch together, and each person told their story of what occurred during their walk. It was such a gift to hear how nature responded to their open-hearted intentions. Each person had a unique story, and it was fascinating how the details of their journey reflected their inner guidance and wisdom. The mirroring of nature is so beautiful! I am always amazed at how it seems that exactly what is needed is what occurs on the medicine walk, in the sacred space of the ancient ceremony. The perfection of the unfolding of the universe is revealed so clearly when the intention is to see.

July 16, 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.

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 if the fee is an obstacle)
To register, please fill in the online Registration Form. For payment information, see Fees.

Even though the mosquito breeding ground terrified me, I accepted the tormented run home as a demonstration of the actions of my mind, always pushing me on, frustrated, unable to rest and be at peace. How willing I was to open to the postive in my experience! Perhaps this is one of the gifts of the vision fast ceremony: learning to view all that is arising as part of something mysterious and beautiful.

I was beckoned by the many encounters with wild creatures. Beckoned to listen to the bear, telling me that if I am humble and have basic trust, I can stand my ground. Beckoned by moose telling me I am awakening to the preciousness of my life’s journey. Enchanted by the surprising almond scent of the mushrooms. Loved and held by the giant, ancient fir tree. Instructed by the stern granite rock face. Entertained and companioned by the chattering pika.  Beckoned beyond just the adventures of the day, into a new calling for creating sacred ceremony with others in nature. Aho!

I headed uphill quick, out of the ravine. I saw that ahead the ravine was marshy. It must be a mosquito breeding ground, with the wetness. And the warm spring sunshine of the past few days must have sparked the hatching process. Holy toledo! What a racket!

I headed away from this area as quickly as I could, but some of the mosquitoes found me and chased me all the way home. If I stopped to kill them (not a good idea on a Medicine Walk, when all life is to be treated as sacred), more appeared. They were vicious and determined. I was bitten at least 8 times. Each bite set up an angry itching in my body.

I felt so happy when I crossed Galena Creek Road, ran down the 100 metres to my gate, and was back on my land. Of course the mosquitoes didn’t care about property boundaries, and continued to chase after me. I stopped and said “Fuck off” to the mosquitoes. It happened that a deer was on the road just there. My cursing startled it, and it stotted away. I admired its magnificent, big life-force as it jumped into the forest. I apologized, “I didn’t mean you, dear deer!” Darn.

The temperature dropped as I entered the valley. The sun was behind the cliffs on the western edge of my land. Amazing, it was almost dusk! I jogged most of the last 3/4 mile to elude the mosquitoes, anticipating having a nice oatmeal bath to sooth the itching. When I reached the house, I crossed through the threshold rather quickly, anxious to get inside and away from the mosquitoes. Hmm. What a day! Moose, bear, pika, deer, and mosquitoes! Did I learn about the purpose for my upcoming vision fast? Or was it just a meaningless series of events and encounters? I thanked the spirits for being with me on the walk, and crossed back into ordinary life. To be continued…

I headed back a slightly different way, and came to a rock face with a boulder slide. I’d never seen this before. A triangular cleft in the rock face beckoned to me. I climbed up to it and sat there, pressed into the rock face. I was worried that rocks would fall on me from above. I tried to ignore this fear, and spoke to the rock mountain, telling it why I was on this medicine walk. I was looking for my purpose. The purpose to carry with me on the upcoming vision quest. My life purpose. The purpose of this day. Why am I on this planet? What am I supposed to be doing here? Is it ever going to get better? The wish for meaning has set me on the spiritual journey. I can’t accept that there is no meaning at all, as so many people seem to believe. Maybe the seeking itself is the point, as Rilke says: cherish the questions themselves. I set my anguish of meaninglessness before the mountain, but I didn’t hear an answer to these big questions that pressed on my soul. Instead, the mountain told me not to listen to people when I didn’t feel like it! Hmm. That was a surprise. (Maybe the mountain didn’t feel like listening to me?)

Across from the rock face was a giant old fir tree. I thought it might be 400 or 500 years old. I felt cold on the cliff, and the tree beckoned to me with kindness. I offered Reiki to the rock face of the mountain, pressing my hands into the cool rough granite, and then climbed down and scrabbled over the boulder slide. I climbed the slight grade of rocks, soil, and grass, and found a spot to sit under the fir, facing the rock slide and rock cliff. A pika came out from between the boulders and spoke to me. It hid, and then popped up and spoke again. This happened many times. I spoke back, but don’t know what we said! I asked where its tail was, for it seemed to be missing. My heart was gladdened by the comfort of the tree and the contact with the little pika.

I noticed there were more mosquitoes here under the tree than there had been on the rock face. I saw how my mind is like a mosquito—never at rest, always driving me on. I felt restless, and wanted something else. I noticed I got fir tree sap on the orange fleece sweater I was sitting on. Fuck! I tried to sense into what I was wanting. Food, a book to read, rich creamy essence. I must be feeling empty. The sun was just hanging in the sky, not moving at all. Maybe I should have stayed on the cliff until it got dark. I guess I’ll just trust that something else awaits, I decided, yielding to the restlessness. To be continued…

The earth is so amazing and beautiful. I felt awed by the variety of tiny flowers, insects, and lichens. Incredible! There were stumps everywhere, and I felt sad at the destruction of all the trees. They had been living beings. A big bee buzzed in agreement as I rested at the base of the Ponderosa. I remembered a wise old woman who had taken my sister and me for a walk one summer near my family’s cabin on Knouff Lake. She showed us wildflowers and told us their names. Later my dad and sister and I fed peanuts in shells to the chipmunks. I remembered walking around Alice Lake with my father another summer. He held my hand as I walked along logs stretching out into the lake. I was afraid of falling into the water, and clung to his hand tightly. He taught me to test myself and take little risks like that. And to love the land. How lucky that I can appreciate this place, I thought, noticing a tiny red worm with a black head on a leaf nearby. It smelled so good here, with the hot pine smell of the forest, the delicate flowers, the almond scent of the fungi.

I thought about the contrast of heavy machine noise and the stink of pollution in the city. But nowhere is exempt from these things. Early this morning I heard logging trucks northeast of Monkey Valley. Planes flew overhead throughout the day. Signs of human activity are everywhere. I sighed as I gathered up my pack and continued to walk.

I guessed that it was a little past noon. After I crossed Galena Creek logging road, heading southeast, I saw some fresh bear scat, and felt glad that my bear friend was still around here somewhere. I noticed that the land felt different on this side of the road. It didn’t seem to have been logged, and consequently wasn’t as open. There were a lot of dead and fallen trees to climb over. Then I spotted pink ribbon with black dots on it, marking a cut block. Huh. This area was slated for logging too. I removed the ribbon and tucked it in my pocket. Ecosabotage! The ribbon had marked a threshold between two trees, so I decided to go in that direction, passing through the threshold. To be continued…

As I knelt there I heard a sound behind me. It was a small sound, and I imagined it was a mouse rustling through the grass. I looked in the direction of the sound and saw a big black bear, eating grass and moving straight towards me! Not a mouse at all! The bear was only 20 yards away! I felt delight, fear, and wonder. My legs felt very trembly and weak as I crouched there. My senses became heightened and I noticed the sound of a squirrel with its rat-a-tat chatter nearby. I was worried about the bear getting closer, for I feared that if he discovered my presence too late, he would feel forced to attack. Inspired, I imitated the squirrel’s chatter, thinking it would alert the bear to my presence without alarming it. For the bear would surely notice that my call did not really sound like a squirrel!

Sure enough, the bear looked up and saw me. He froze. I continued to crouch, facing away from the bear so I didn’t seem threatening. I could only see him out of the corner of my eye. What would he do? I was afraid he would charge me. I scanned for means of protection, and prepared to grab the long thin stick that was on the ground in front of me. I could brandish the stick and stand tall. Or maybe hide behind the tree nearby. The bear was probably also trying to figure out what to do! He snorted and snuffled very loudly, and retreated about 10 yards back up the hill. Was he smelling me? He paused and looked to see if I would pursue.

I was still afraid he might charge back at me. I stayed as still as I could. The bear snorted and snuffled some more, very loudly, and then lumbered about another 20 yards up the hill, behind some trees. He paused again, and then snorted and snuffled away until I couldn’t hear him any more. What a gift! I wished I had looked at the bear some more while I had the chance, but I didn’t want him to think I was aggressive.

Suddenly, potential danger over, I felt very tired. I noticed it was very hot in the sun. I wanted to taste more of the bear’s presence. I wanted to follow him! It is always that way for me after magical contact with bears and other wild creatures. The visit is too short, and I want more.

I sat down and sensed into what had just occurred. It seemed to me that there were two levels of interaction going on. The level of the animal soul was obvious; my attention had gone to survival, and I believe the bear’s had too. We were both assessing each other as a potential threat, and determining the best course of action to take for protection. But it seemed there was another level on which the bear had contacted me. I had the sense that within or including the animal being there was a spirit being that was looking at me. It seemed that spirit being had a message for me. The feeling-tone was benevolent and protective. I recall that even now, more than five years later, though I didn’t write it down in my journal. At the time I wrote that the message from the bear was that if I am humble and have basic trust, I can stand my ground. The meaning of this has continued to unfold for me over time, with my sense of being able to trust in reality growing and deepening over the years. It has allowed me to act from an inner ground of confidence and support that can speak with gentleness rather than the protective anger I have used and written about extensively on this blog! The other impact of the bear encounter was that I felt called to do more to protect the bear. This theme also has continued to unfold over the years.

Wow, what an amazing, wonderful thing to happen on my medicine walk! It was still well before noon, but I felt that having seen moose and now bear, my day was complete. What else could compare to this? However, I was walking until dusk, so there was still a long way to go! To be continued…

A mosquito buzzed me while I napped, but I covered my face and drowsed on, determined to catch my own zees! After a while I woke, and looked around the meadow again. I noticed the flowers of the ground cover plant stone crop. Tiny pale pink bells with deep pink tips. The air smelled of sweet pine in the sun. A small fuzzy beige bee with a very long needle nose landed on the stone crop. Then a very big fat yellow bee with a loud buzz showed up. It buzzed around me for quite a while. It was at least an inch long! It seemed to me that nature was very friendly and glad I was here. The big bee landed on my jacket, right over my heart. Could it smell the sweetness flowing there?

My spot grew shady, so I moved over a little into the sun. My movement must have startled an animal, for I heard a deer or moose bounding away through the trees. I did some yoga, and all the stretches I knew for various parts of my body that have been injured over the years. I stood up after I’d done the final resting pose, and saw a hawk gliding silently overhead. It was very close and I could see the sun flashing on its feathers. I swatted at a mosquito and it flew away.

This spot was shady now too, and I debated what to do. It was so pleasant here, but maybe I should walk on. Little did I know I was about to have an encounter that would change my life forever! To be continued…

Formalities accomplished, I set out along the dirt road that led through the gates of Monkey Valley. I wondered what magic the day might hold for me. What is it like to step through the threshold into the world of spirit? I felt open, curious, light, and innocent. I followed the road north, taking the right-hand fork that swung around to the east to ford the creek. Sometimes I ford the creek by climbing along an old log fence, but this time I wanted to follow nature’s path, so I went along the creek until I found a log that was wide enough to cross on. When I reached the road on the far side of the creek, I followed the overgrown track that went south down the valley, gradually climbing from the level of the creek to about twenty feet above it.

Suddenly I heard a loud sound. Moose! I looked down to the valley floor, and saw a beautiful ungainly creature running through the grasses below. Was it male or female? It had no antlers, as far as I could tell, and didn’t seem to be pregnant, nor to have a little one nearby. I think the moose had heard my own ungainly passage, for it took shelter behind some bushes. I waited a little while for the moose to emerge again, thinking “Moose is more patient than me.” But I was wrong, for the moose resumed its journey. I watched the glimpses of rich brown limbs and hump as the moose crossed the valley floor and disappeared into the trees on the other side. I am patient! Perhaps this discovery was the first gift of my day’s journey. To be continued…

Sometimes I share other aspects of my life, but in looking back over the entries I’ve made over the past 28 months, I think there is a cohesiveness to how the different subjects tie together. My inner explorations and the adventures I’ve had in the natural world are two strands of the marvellous thread of growing as a person and soul on this earth, and my attempts to bring the inner maturation into concrete form in the outer world form another strand. This is, after all, the purpose of the vision fast—to have our visions, yes, and then to bring them to life for our people.

My intention now and for the next while is to start sharing specific stories from the vision fasts that I’ve had the privilege of experiencing. Today, I’d like to tell you about one of the first medicine walks I ever went on, in preparation for my first vision fast, which I was going to do with my ecopsychology classmates at Naropa University. This was my second attempt at the medicine walk in preparation for the vision fast. On the first one, which I attempted in mid-May, 2005, I accidentally stepped in springwater and soaked my feet within 10 mintues of setting out. The temperature was still below freezing at that early hour of the morning, and I was afraid I might get hypothermia with my feet, socks, and boots so wet. So my first lesson was: always bring an extra pair of wool socks! And I went back to the cabin at Monkey Valley, determined to try again another day.

The next time I set out on my pre-vision fast medicine walk, it was May 27, 2005. I wanted to prepare myself for the vision fast by trying out my gear, so I’d set up my tarp in a grove of lodgepole pine near my cabin the previous day, and slept outside overnight. I woke at about 4:00 am, with the birds announcing the imminence of the day in loud song. I heard grouse drumming and great horned owl hooting. Many birds were calling me forth to walk the sacred walk! That spring I kept hearing the “come to me” call of an unidentified bird, and she was calling me this morning too. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the astonishing sight of the moon in the sky peering at me through the opening at the foot of my tarp. To be continued…