adventures in fairyland

I have a confession to make.

It’s about a bumper sticker ~ some of you have surely seen the one.

It says “Tree hugging dirt worshiper.”

I’ve been seeing it around for possibly decades now.

But just in the past year I realized, to my great satisfaction, how conveniently, succinctly, how perfectly this bumper sticker sums it up for me. It hits the nail right on the head.

And I don’t say this lightly, because I am seriously averse to labels and declarations about my identity in general, which is fluid and evolving and notably not into linguistic limitations, or any other limitations, for that matter.

(Once, checking out of an emergency room, under the influence of morphine from an actual case of kidney stones, I found myself thrown for a real loop after providing the usual address, phone number, etc. then being asked my religion. I fumbled, fuzzy in the head. “Independent?” I ventured. She looked at me, apparently dumbfounded. In any case, it was evident that this wasn’t going to cut it. I puzzled over the question some more. She started rattling off a list of options. By the time she’d gotten to Baptist, I had gained enough composure and command over my English to state with remarkable certainty: “Lady. I’m Emily, Child of the Universe.” Another pause. “I’ll check other, she said.” I kid you not ~ this really happened.)

But the point is ~ I definitely hug trees. I sit with trees. I kiss trees. I listen to trees. I learn from trees. I LOVE trees.

I’m not joking here folks.

And let’s not even get started on dirt. Dirt is where it’s at, as far as I’m concerned. I dare you to conceive of where we’d be with out it. The ground beneath our feet. A wildly intelligent network of interconnection, cooperation, and mutual nourishment. Dirt is humble and humbling. Thank goodness for dirt.

The point is, despite my aversion to being pinned down by labels, this potent little combination of words speaks straight to the heart of how I feel. At the end of the day, and in absence of a “Child of the Universe” bumper sticker, it really sums things right up for me.

And I’m perfectly happy to be declaring this publicly, for the record, without even a twinge of apprehension. I’m not worried that I’ll change my mind about this at some point down the road. I’m not even worried that this will taint your opinion of me.

Even if you don’t know me as such, even if this comes as some surprise.

It’s a risk I’m 100% willing to take.

Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Emily, Child of the Universe.

I grew up in the woods, moss and leaves and twigs underfoot. Trees and birds, stars and sky overhead. Here I spent much time alone, in pure communion with nature itself. Trees, plants, stars, animals, insects, streams, stones… with these I felt the deepest of kinship. I felt viscerally, miraculously, that we were all, in fact, made of the same stuff.

This wasn’t something I thought. It was something I knew.

I live in the desert now. It’s hot and dry and yet full of surprising life and color. In a different palate. Which I also love with all my heart and soul.

 

But last weekend, I found myself on an out-of-town venture, in a beautiful Colorado forest, roaming down a cold mountain creek. I was delighted to be in the company of my family for this jaunt, scampering along one of the most satisfying collection of stepping stones I have ever encountered.

The adventure presented itself spontaneously ~ as most proper adventures do ~ as we walked down to the creek with the notion of a refreshing cold plunge. Pretty soon, our son started following the stones down stream. We found ourselves pulled to keep exploring, keep following the path the stones naturally made.

After a ways it opened up to a glorious vista, a shockingly blue pool of water at a bend in the river.

An enormous felled tree formed a bridge to the other side where moss and wild herbs poured from cracks in the rocks; stands of pines and aspens beyond. There was magic all around ~ the late afternoon sun dancing on the water, lichen hanging from the branches.

 

My heart singing with joy as I took in the wild beauty of my surroundings, a full 360 degree panorama.

 

We were on our own in this space. I shed my clothes (like any respectable forest fairy/ child of the universe) and dropped into the water. Swimming naked in a pure water source, fully immersed in the wild embrace of nature ~ it’s hard to think of any sensation more blissful.

The water was cold ~ it was exhilarating. I felt so fantastically alive.

My son plunged in and out of the water, happiness radiating from his every pore. We scampered over rocks, crossing the river by tree, exclaiming multiple times “This is amazing!” My heart, my cup, was full. It overflowed.

 

The next morning we returned to the creek after packing up camp, before heading home.

It felt like we had no choice; this place had captured our hearts and we all felt an acute need to be there again. To bathe in the magic.

We wanted another cold plunge, we wanted to revisit the giant playground of stepping stones, we wanted to hear the water’s marvelous rush in our ears again.

This time, mid-morning, the sun was shining bright overhead.

Little specs of pyrite glistened from the sand underneath the water. Sweet orange butterflies floated around us; a delicate white and lavender one too. Magnificent dragonflies cruised back and forth across the creek; an emerald hummingbird hovered over the watering hole where we played.

The joy and gratitude and glee in my heart lit up my whole being, grounded me deeper into the treasure of this magical space.

I was in fairyland.

 

As I felt the rocks beneath my bare feet, I recalled a moment earlier that week, just days before, when I’d taken some time to tune into my heart. I’d listened closely to what it had to say ~ what it really wanted.

When I gave myself the space ~ and permission ~ to open up to and really receive the message that day, it was simple and clear:

To frolic and play in the woods. To spend time among the trees.

I wrote it down.

And for the record: this camping trip had not been on my radar at all as I tuned into my heart’s desires that day.

But there I was. As I stood there with the high alpine mix of ponderosas, aspen, spruce and fir trees overlooking us, feet bare upon a rock in the middle of the river, I felt this deeply nourishing, wild satisfaction of being in absolute alignment with my heart’s desires.

I experienced the elation of being completely, effortlessly immersed in my surroundings, and the joy of knowing I was exactly where I needed to be.

I don’t take experiences like that for granted.

 

Knowing that you can give yourself the experience that your heart desires is a pretty spectacular feeling. And it’s kind of a big deal. It brings about a sense of fulfillment and possibility that far surpasses any conventional measure of success or achievement.

I find it’s the kind of experience you alone can give to yourself.

And it starts with asking your heart to speak its wisdom to you… then fully listening to whatever it has to say.

 

In the past few years I’ve discovered how honoring daily rhythms naturally brings about a sense of deeper alignment. I’ve found, through my practices, the steadiest form of support and connection that I’ve known.

I’ve expanded my ability to feel deeply nourished ~ by my surroundings, by the rhythms of nature itself, and by my practices.

And these practices directly opened the path for this elation from our adventure in the woods. They set me up to feel more spritely, more enthusiastic and open, more adventurous in the first place.

They aligned me with the sensation of being fully alive. Before I even arrived in the woods.

And that feeling attracts more of the same.

If you don’t feel as light or limber, or even as enthusiastic and joyful as you’d like to, you can shift this with regenerative practices such as gentle morning movement routines. I know this from experience. Try starting off each day by bringing a little circulation to your body. Circulate your blood, gently stretch your limbs and breathe deeply.

Try some intentional, embodied movement. This sets a tone for the day that actually initiates a shift in our brain activity, invigorating better choices. It circulates waste out of your tissues and brings in nutrients where they’re needed. It is tremendously supportive for your whole being.

Allowing for some extra space and breathing room in your body does wonders too. Just extending my fasting time between the evening meal and the morning one has brought about a feeling of clarity, lightness and energy than I didn’t know was possible. You can make shifts to how you feel relatively swiftly by tuning into your body’s ability to process and digest, and not overdoing it.

Creating space for digestion, extending the time between meals is a phenomenally regenerative practice.

Space is so often overlooked. I’ve learned to celebrate our innate, life-sustaining capacity to pulse between empty and full, to lighten our own load; to fully process what is coming in. It can make a powerful difference in how our bodies feel.

Carrying around more than we need is an expensive habit in the end, setting us up for degeneration. A real damper on our ability to feel great ~ to feel fully alive.

And feeling great isn’t just for some extra lucky, magically blessed few. It’s for everyone.

 

In the past, I used to feel like I was dragging through my days. I was certain I needed coffee to be functional. I felt sore, achy and out of sorts with my body. I found it hard to be adventurous and playful. I often felt cranky and frustrated. I didn’t feel present with my family; certainly not joyful or inspired.

Whether we have a supportive team of champions and cheerleaders in our life or not, our biggest and steadiest source of support has to come from within.

And even if you aren’t fully dedicating yourself to supportive practices right now, that can literally change today.

Through my practices, I’ve woken up a natural state of inspiration and enthusiasm. Being in tune with daily rhythms has established a sense of well-being and ease in my body, mind and spirit. This feeling is not tied to the external ups and downs of life. It abides and expands, through simple measures I take to nurture myself. To support myself.

This isn’t something that fell into my lap. It required reflection, kindness, deep listening; willingness to learn and take action.

 

Wherever you are, however this finds you: know that you too can feel deeply nourished. You can feel more alive. You can connect with what lightens your spirit and fills your heart. It is your birthright to do so. And a large part of why you are here.

In you is a wellspring of vitality. You are not stuck. You are not fixed. If you are reading this, you have the gift of breath. Of inspiration. Breathing in and out. And through that gift, strangely and beautifully enough, you are life itself.

 

 

If you need help, let me guide the way. You’ll find that you don’t need to learn anything new as much as remember what’s already there.