#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Forest Bathing Ceremony in the Tent

My very different Thanksgiving. I am grateful for the spaciousness of this day, the not making a meal and entertaining the focus, but trusting my son to co-create something quite satisfying. I worked on a poem this morning, and then went into the woods. The the rusty river bank, to the brook. Charlie joined me. It was raining, as expected, and it was very pleasant and shiny and beautiful and relaxing. I swam. Frank came home, joined me for a quiet lunch. In the mid-afternoon, as planned, we went to the winter tent to meet my son for a forest bathing ritual, as we had planned. A special time, just the three of us. He lit a fire in the wood burning stove, and it was so cozy. in a circle, we shared. Then he gave us two prompts: to go out and see what’s in motion, come back and share, and one more: to find a place to sit for twelve minutes. The clouds were in motion, my lungs and heart were in motion, the muskrat in the middle of the river was in motion. The little family of ducks, the raindrops, the clouds and the sound of the rain, all in motion. Then, I sat at the brook on a rock and let the rain fall on me and meditated. And just as I stood up––I heard his flute, calling us back––I got the insight I had been needing all day. It just came as I walked to the tent. It was so cozy inside, so warm. We closed with the poem I brought, an excerpt from Joy Harjo below, and we each took a turn reading it aloud. Then Frank played a favorite song from his phone: “Fall Down as the Rain,” as the rain pelted the top of the tent and an owl in a nearby tree hooted repeatedly. We walked back to the house to prepare the dinner they both wanted: prime rib, and I had fish and roasted veggies and I made a pumpkin pie and popovers, and Landon invited someone who was alone and we enjoyed this person’s company in our intimate dinner by the fire, and my popovers came out just right. The whole day came out just right.