Today I am longing for a sense of groundedness that comes from living in place.
Terry Tempest Williams writes in Refuge: An Unnatural History of Family and Place,
The bird refuge has remained a constant. It is a landscape familiar to me, there have been times I have felt a species long before I saw it. the long-billed curlews that foraged the grasslands sevel miles outside the Refuge were trustworthy. I can count on them year after years. And when six whimbrels joined them–whimbrel entered my mind as an idea. Before I ever saw them mingling with curlews, I recognized them as a new thought in familiar country. The birds and I share a natural history. It is a matter of rootedness, of living inside a place for so long that the mind and imagination fuse.
Today I am longing for a sense of rootedness that comes from “living inside a place for so long that the mind and imagination fuse.” Living in place. I walk these same miles of beach several times each week. The familiarity of the landscape and the sound of the ocean soothe me. The occasional sighting of a black skimmer or a migrating common loon brings a sense of connectedness to the mystical.
As I walk toward the north end of the island, I walk over the ground where I scattered the ashes of my three dogs and ran my hands through shards of bone and ashes in the sand. Sometimes I still stop there and lie down, and as I feel my heartbeat against the earth, I can almost feel their heartbeats in sync with mine. I breathe and once again sense my own heartbeat, my own aliveness. The waves of the ocean continue in their predictable rhythms. The sun lowers toward the horizon in the western sky. After the sun has set, the sky turns its usual brilliant twilight blue, and the clouds pop with rich shades of pinks and purples. I turn and once again walk these same miles of beach.
Jen Johnson is a meditation teacher, photographer, and writer teaching meditation for healing and creativity. Learn more about working with Jen.