I’ve been feeling very unmotivated to be creative lately, procrastinating and wasting time with TV, social media and nothingness. I know it’s a product of the anxiety I feel heading into another school year of not knowing, not being sure or feeling grounded in the knowledge that things will be okay. Honestly, aren’t we all feeling anxiety, fear, maybe even impending doom, these days? I, like many of you out there, find myself searching for the touchstones that can bring me some sense of grounding and normalcy. That used to be going home. Home always meant, literally, just that, I would go to mom’s. When I had a fight with a boyfriend, if school work and paper deadlines became too much, after a particularly bad week at work or if I was feeling physically sick and needing to be taken care of by my mama. Sadly, since she passed it’s been tough to find “home”. Home for me has always been so much grounded in the person that my mother was and how her caring could take away so much of that fear and exhaustion. Now, I have to dig much deeper and find that sense by grounding myself in different ways, mothering myself, I guess you could say.
I know, innately, that my connection to the natural world is spiritually grounding, calming and comforting. I have been neglecting that this summer and I feel it in how much anxiety I have lately. So, this week I promised to take a day out of the schedule to get outside, check out and just be in the trees. I ventured back to childhood memories and touchstones of home at Buntzen Lake. The day was forecast to be a mixed bag and I packed accordingly for B.C. Summer, equal parts cool, wicking gear and goretex layers. You never know what Mother Nature might throw at you, especially bumped up against the mountains, at the lake. True to form, as soon as I hit Lower Ioco Road the downpour began! It rained so hard that I had to slow my pace, wipers on full, keeping my eyes out for wildlife in the road and oncoming traffic. For some this isn’t a great day for a hike but I know that it drives people indoors and I’d likely have the trail to myself.
I certainly was right about having the park to myself. The normally packed parking lot was almost empty and only the odd vehicle, belonging to those willing to brave the rain, stood still on the pavement. The lake is a local favorite of picnicking families and sunbathing teen/twenty somethings in high summer, when the lake provides sunshine and cool plunges for locals and city dwellers looking for a respite from town. It’s no longer high summer, in fact, today it feels almost like it could be October. The cloud cover is keeping the sunshine at bay and the earlier downpour has brought the temperature down so much that I almost regret that I didn’t bring a heavier middle layer to keep the chill off, as I hit the trail head, granola bar in hand. My mood started to change as soon as I hit Port Moody and the turnoff to head in the direction of the park. Anticipatory, excited, a bit silly with the excitement of being alone in the woods for a couple hours. My boots crunching on the gravel makes me smile and I set my pace, breathing in, out, taking in the moisture and damp smell of the forest after the rain. It’s so familiar, comforting.
Frame of mind is everything for my process and my career, teaching teens. I want to be strong, stable, supportive and solid as a colleague and mentor to younger teachers in my department. I need to be able to lead from a place of calm and quiet. I can’t do this if I’m feeling the way I have lately. The worry, the concern, the tightness in my chest falls away as I walk. I don’t have to think about anything. I can have this moment right now. I can just be here, listening to the sound of the rain in the trees, the sound of my feet walking and my own breathing, steady and regular. I let my eyes wander to the beauty of the forest floor. The dampness that makes this area so green never really leaves during summer; the forest canopy is too heavy and rain comes more often against the mountains. It’s early this year, the rain and the cool nights, but it has brought autumn life and color to the lake. I see bright colored fungus and little trails of mushrooms sprouting along the surface of nurse logs that lost their root footing during the storms last winter. The fern so thick in some areas that I can’t even see the forest floor, only the lacey green fronds, crowded, side by side, from trail to water’s edge. I see things that inspire me, visually, filling my well with imagery that will grace the page or canvas of the semester’s creativity. I start to sort my thoughts as well. Organize and prioritize, considering, waxing philosophical to myself as I wander along. I talk to my mom, voicing concerns and considering solutions. This blog begins to take shape in my mind, how to communicate how important this “going home” really is to my sanity and my mental wellness. Something we all really need right now. We need to find calm, stillness and solid ground.
I don’t really know why I forget the importance of taking care of my mental health. I don’t know why I choose to do things that don’t honor my higher self or my goals and dreams…I’m human, I guess. Sometimes it feels easier to sloth on the couch and watch eight episodes of Hoarders, by justifying that I’m having a “day off” or some “me time”…but am I? I have to start asking myself the crucial questions, in this oh so very stressful time, “Does this honor who I am and what I want in life?” “Is this truly lifting my spirits and filling me up?” The answer is clear as day, as clear as the sun that is breaking through the trees after the rain of the morning. I feel calm, grounded and relaxed. My shoulders have dropped, my brow is smooth (or as smooth as it gets) and I can feel the corners of my mouth are turned up in a small smile. This is not how I feel after a day of TV bingeing, I feel quite the opposite. I have an acquaintance that calls a wander in the woods, “tree therapy”. And so it is. I hope to maintain this feeling with weekly visits home, to the trails, the mountains and the trees that fill me up and ground me, making me remember my truth and find the centre that I know is always there if I keep connecting with myself because that is truly where home is, it’s in me. I just need the touchstones to remind me.
Comments
I love this. I too have neglected the wild space where I love. I must get back to walking again. It truly fills you up with goodness to be with nature. Take care my friend.