A few days into a poorly timed creativity slump, I did the only logical thing I could think of. I went outside and laid down on the ground, supine. Heart to the sky, arms by my side with palms facing up, eyes closed, connected to breath. Vulnerable. Each exhale released bones and muscle deeper into the earth. Each inhale, more receptive to all that existed outside of me. Twenty minutes. Give it a try. Trust me, it’ll be the best part of your day.
I came inside and mixed a batch of tea which seemed like as good a place as any to start gathering supplies for heading north. I added the final handful of lavender from last year’s harvest and wondered if we’ll be able to grow it up there, probably not. This tender perennial barely hangs on down here. Maybe planted along a south-facing, sun-collecting stone wall, then mulched to kingdom come... then maybe it’ll survive winter? Seems like a reasonable effort to me, it is lavender after all.
With the tea mixed I started thinking of other supplies that need gathering, which is not many. The plan is to bring as little as possible and see what, if anything, is missing. My guess is it won’t be much. I’m not sure why I thought tea was so essential, with the patches of wild mint growing along the stream’s edge and the chamomile that I planted last year. Maybe it’s a gesture more than anything else. Plants that were grown and preserved down here, arriving on the land with the message that this human isn’t so bad, she sort of gets it and won’t mess things up too terribly. She might even make things better.
There are bear on the property, three sightings this week alone confirm that. And the moose that greeted me at 5:30 in the morning was a laid back, unassuming beauty. For them, home is among these trees, as it is for the wild mint and even the cultivated chamomile. As for me, I still feel like the new girl who wouldn't mind fitting in, but mostly is just looking for some quiet. The one who determined that for who knows what reason, a jar of tea is an appropriate offering. I have no idea. They’ll humor me, and we’ll give each other plenty of space. I’m sure there will be sideways glances and even a few longer than feels comfortable stares. And they will definitely ask themselves, “Why does that strange woman keep lying down in the dirt like that?”
And I will say, “Give it a try. Trust me, it’ll be the best part of your day.”