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On Outdoor Re-creation

I’ve always enjoyed exploring the wilderness. I have never understood why more people don’t do it, though perhaps deep down I’m grateful not to have hordes of other humans out there.  It’s like this ridiculously well-kept secret. Why? This piece on the death of backpacking asks the same question. The author believes backpacking in particular is not popular “because younger people are leery of the unglamorous labor required for stepping off pavement, and too occupied with the easiness of TV,...

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Trail

  The trouble began with the lies about Eden and Eve. I hid my nakedness. Pressed my school uniform. Conjugated verbs. Rode the subway to my cubicle. Took notes in meetings. Aspired to productivity. Trailing the deer my long confinement in shame is fading. The snake coiled by the stream says nothing of separation. Water flows through the aspen grove where the many are one and I weave through their fine trunks on hooves of light and belonging.  ...

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Moonbeams in a Bucket

                            I celebrated the full moon on Sunday at the playground near my house. Soaring back and forth on a swing. Giggling. Watching her rise gloriously in the night. That morning I had walked a labyrinth with a group of women, holding the intention of seeding the new energy that’s wanting to come into my life. Before entering the labyrinth we wandered in a nearby meadow on a hill with a tremendous view of...

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Migrations

  I live in North America’s central flyway. The hummers have abandoned the feeder I put out for them in July. That’s my cue that the fall bird migrations are underway. So lately I’ve been trying to set aside a little time to get out to places where I’ll see more than the odd mob of grackles. Earlier this week I spent a good part of one morning wondering around a couple of ponds. It was wet and the land was soaking in the luscious rain. The place was an island in the midst of the steady...

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Contemplative Hiking

Yesterday I went on a contemplative hike with Margaret Emerson. I had not been on this particular hillside in over a year and it was like visiting an old friend. This early in April the swaths of three-leaf sumac are grey and brittle-looking. We walked through some flatter areas with stands of dried up mullein, still standing at attention. My husband threw his back out recently and we’ve been working with mullein tincture as a remedy. I paused to study the rosettes of fuzzy leaves coming back...

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