I headed to the woods today seeking Peace (and morels...). It's Mother's Day and my mom has transitioned, and I have no children. I was feeling squirrelly so having some time with the Oaks and wild felt like the medicine that would soothe my turbulence.
I headed for the only spot I had ever found multiple morels. Alas, there were none. I went in further and placed my hands on the large Oak tree there. The pulses were immediate, and I felt the connection wash over me. I left a little pinch of dried rose petals at it's base and went deeper into the woods. I made my way down the slope to the little wild creek, ducking under tangled vines and doing my best to avoid the thorns of invasive roses and barberry. I noticed a Bittersweet vine that had created a perfect slip knot.
Arriving at the creek, I stopped and listened, entranced by the song it sang. The broken and rotting branches had created a series of waterfalls, each adding to a multi-layered sound. In the background, two woodpeckers called back and forth. It felt good to simply stand there and breathe.
I decided to make my way to the other side and explore as the terrain rose up from the creek. I stepped over fallen trees, and followed the deer paths deeper into the woods. The path rounded down to another area of the creek. I was surprised how clear the water was after the heavy rain we had over the last two days. This section had a totally different song, larger tree branches had fallen in and over the stream, and bigger rocks lined the edges. I had checked in with a geologist once about these rocks and he told me they were 540 to 440 million years old! Deer prints showed this to be a favorite drinking spot.
I stopped and put my hands on a large Beech and marveled how the pulsing felt so much different than the Oak's. I noticed the wild creek made a strong hook in this section to go around whatever must have been there many years ago. I supposed a long gone large tree had encouraged this path. The song was louder, and there was a long straight stretch after the turn.
I stopped at a tree that had multiple trunks and obvious fairy entrances at the base. You'll even see the Guardian if you soften your gaze a bit. I left a little pinch of rose petals, flanked with two freshly fallen tiny young Oak leaves, on a lichen covered rock for the fae to discover.
Another step into the meandering creek as I started back. I stood in the center, watching the water immediately change course and move around my boots. The wind traveled through, the birds continued their songs. The reflections in the creek showed the tall trees above gently swaying. I spoke a Priestess prayer and then placed a pinch of rose petals into the ripples of the water. I watched as they floated along, easily going under a small twig arched just barely above the surface of the water. They followed the water's path as it headed to the left and out of sight. I cried.
All Flows. Even if the walk begins with a Bittersweet knot. Even when we duck through and under tangles, and carefully and mindfully around possible injury. The water keeps moving along at the path of least resistance. It doesn't complain about the rocks or branches in the way, it flows around and over. It doesn't mind days of downpours, or summer dryness...the path is always there, ready to receive the flow. It muddies, it clears, it disappears, it reappears. It cycles with what is. It knows the way, without knowing where it is going. It is Surrender and Trust. It is the Known and Unknown. The present is here in this breath, and the future is always destination unknown.
We navigate the best we can with whatever shows up in our path. Dams are created to harness the energy of the flow. What if we each removed our personal dams and let ourselves flow? What might we discover as we rounded the corner? And even if we don't find the treasure we were looking for at the time, we still can find treasure if we are ready to receive, and have eyes that can see.
Love and Flow,