I woke up this morning to my body aching faintly and my muscles feeling stiff. I was elated. I almost never workout hard enough to feel sore the next day and it is a truly coveted feeling. It is the satisfaction of knowing I pushed myself hard enough.
We all have bodies but not all of us realize our own potential. We take these machines of flesh and bone for granted. We never really know what our limits are because we do not challenge them or ourselves.
This renewed relationship with my body leads me to biking, walking, kayaking, hiking and anything that strengthens my bond with the great outdoors. I want to be immersed in it. I do not just want to experience it, I want to be in harmony with it.
I once many years ago, laid in a field to the wee hours in the morning. I found that the evening anointed my dress and skin with dew and it was at that moment that I realized I was a part of something stupendous. I was indeed a child of nature. We were one. I was no greater or lesser than the bee or wildflower. I had just lost my way and needed to return to my origins. I needed to protect our Mother, and respect the land and air and water and all the beings that live in and between. I needed to return home.
So in an attempt to find myself, I am finding that Earthing or Grounding is an important component to my own self discovery as is exploring the wild world around me.
I was given a chance to escape into the mountains and found myself hiking beside waterfalls and swimming in emerald lakes and crystal clear pools of water. I was scaling rocky ledges and traversing ancient stones worn by eons and rushing water. I wandered beneath verdant giants so mighty they blocked out the sun. Here I was tiny and seemingly insignificant but a vital component of the Earth.
I basked in the warm rays of light on the sandy shore of Davis Lake. It was just you and me and the surroundings for hours. I could hear the insects buzzing and the wind sighing and your breath exhaled as you sat next to me. Smiles were all that we needed to say here. Anything else spoken seemed blasphemous.
We stayed until the next adventure beckoned us and drove down the road to Cascade Falls. It was not as you remembered. There was pavement and a parking lot and tourists and stairs and a bridge to overlook the falls. There was fencing to keep us out but we still got in on our bellies and backs beneath the metal. I felt the dirt and it was just what I needed. You wanted this too. The cliff was steep and I perched on the edge unable to see the next step.
Are you scared?
The truth was I was terrified and excited and I barely know you but I trust you with my life. You tell me where to step and I reach for the root and you tell me I can do it just fine from there. You are off to explore the boulders and water and you move like a mountain goat. I am envious and inspired of your dance.
You stretch out on a sunny spot and close your eyes. I go just below the cold water’s surface. I gasp as it accepts me; I am invigorated. My skin is so cold that it numbs to the stimuli. I giddily race over to you and drip ice-cold drops on your skin. I laugh as you groan at my childish prank but I know you felt the beauty in it too.
We sat a long time. I thanked you for inviting me. You know you take me to the most amazing places as a gift to flaunt. These are your discovered treasures buried in valleys and nestled in mountains.
We drive away in your Acura, with Rob Zombie and the A/C blasting. My clothes are soaking wet and I seem to be dissolving comfortably into your bucket seat.
I don’t need hiking boots, I need minimalist or barefoot shoes. I want to be more connected and less hindered. I want to be like the mountain goat that smiles my way and shifts gears as we fly down the country road alone together.
We are kindred spirits trying to find our way.