Monthly Archives: December 2010

Into the Woods

I’m trying to get back to some simpler things. Trying to instill a larger sense of connection to the natural world. We do that already, observing birds, taking hikes, collecting acorns or twigs, searching for deer in our back woods.  But I want Action Boy to have a sense of responsibility for that natural world as well as an appreciation. We already keep feeders out for birds all year long, and will toss breads and old fruit to squirrels and whatever else might care to partake. But this year we read a wonderful story about a family whose Christmas tree is a pine in the woods that they decorate with fruit and nuts and popcorn, and the boy falls asleep dreaming of all the animals that might come to their Christmas feast gift.

We don’t have a perfect pine in our woods, but we do have plenty of saplings, and bare branches and animals who call the woods their home. So we spent an afternoon rolling popcorn in peanut butter and honey, and cutting apples in half. And on a truly frigid afternoon, we tromped out to the woods to leave our offerings.

Within two days they were all gone. Squirrels, I suspect. But I also suspect we’ll do it again. When snow is on the ground and the deer and the raccoon and the birds…and the squirrels…are even more needful. And if we’re lucky, we’ll witness the dinner gathering. If not, that’s okay too. Because this is really about nature, caring, giving — and not just at this time of year, but all year long.


Pocketful of Metaphors

Yesterday we went for a walk. We were headed for a wooded trail where beavers live.  On the way, the sun disappeared, the wind kicked up and it got cold. I do not like the wind. It makes me hunch my shoulders, tighten my back. It whips through my pant legs and makes my skin itch. Action Boy {AB) complained his face was cold. We considered just doing a neighborhood loop, to get some air, then head home for hot chocolate. But AB had his heart set on the Beaver Trail and some time in the woods. We wrapped scarves tighter and continued.

We marched along the trail to keep legs warm and blood flowing. I suggested we walk just a short way, then take a wooded pathway that looped back to our neighborhood. Not far in was a break in the thicket to our right. “Here’s our path” I said, heading down. But then we realized it wasn’t our usual path back, as that one had a big beaver stick pile to the right, and a log to step over that crosses a small bog. But this path would lead to that one, so we decided to go ahead and take it, connecting with the usual path on the left.

Suddenly, Chris (AB’s dad) exclaimed, “Holy cow, look at this!” Catching up we looked where he pointed on the ground to see a hug pile of fresh feathers. Long feathers, wing-edge feathers, fluffy, downy under belly feathers, all grey and white in a neat, circular pile. Clearly someone had been plucked clean for lunch.

We scanned overhead, but there was nothing. But clearly a hawk had been there recently, cleaned its lunch and flew off. AB examined the pile, picking out clean, smooth specimens to keep, contemplating how recently the kill happened, wondering if he might find any bones.

In the end, we connected with our original path with a handful of pigeon feathers for AB to show Grammy when we got home, and story to tell about a hawk, a pigeon, and the path in the woods.

Had we given in to the wind, we never would have found it. Had we turned back off the “accidental” path to find our usual one, we never would have found it. But pressing onward, continuing forward, embracing the wayward path — we discovered, we learned, we came home with a story to tell (and things to put under the microscope).

Life can tap you on the shoulder and whisper in your ear. We just have to pay attention.


Shifting

It is time for a shift. In mind, spirit, life. As the year winds down and the next readies itself, shifts are occurring. The most noteable is our shift to integrate Waldorf into our learning and our lives. It’s rhythm. It’s feel. It’s mood and way of looking at life and learning. It has always appealed to me viscerally – even before knowing all the benefits it could have to our learning (and our lives).

The Labyrinth. What is it?

“A labyrinth is a series of concentric circles sharing a common centre. A path leads circuitously to the centre and back. This ancient imprint is found in religious traditions in various spiralling forms around the world. By walking the labyrinth, we are rediscovering a long-forgotten mystical tradition for tending the soul that transcends race, culture, language and time. It is based on sacred geometric principles.”

So says, Labyrinth Keys.  I’ve always wanted to create a walking labyrinth. In my yard, or on a huge canvas to put down on the ground. I love the idea of it. It’s winding pathways speak to me spiritually and really do seem to exude peace.  It is a path leading forward and back again, a winding, circular path in, and out — back to where you began.

As we move forward on our own path (and sometimes back) I look to open myself to the moments. What is needed now, at this moment. Because there is no other moment. I hope to see a new spirit in our learning. A new peace. Weaving breath into our lives, our home, ourselves as the New Year steps forward, and we to meet it.

Round and round and round. The old is new. Forward and back. In and out. I breathe.


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