There's haze on the horizon, from the ground to the skies. The sun is out, but its golden goodness is veiled. Tiny breezes shimmer the leaves on trees. There aren't many birds singing this morning.
The ten-day forecast calls for sun and temperatures in the low 90s and high 80s. A few days may have a few clouds, and there's a chance of rain halfway through. The second half of July charges fiercely, headlong into the dog days of early August.
It's going to be hot the last 10 days of this Green Wilderness journey. Another 40 days begin after that, but I'm not thinking too much about it yet. In the Wilderness, staying present offers the best chance for smooth passage.
I'll cool myself with green smoothies and salads. Lots of water. I don't have much interest in cooked veg these days and, actually, raw veg is what is most recommended. As is increased water this week. Not sure why, but I find myself craving it and am not having a hard time drinking 10 glasses a day. It might be a good time to read for enjoyment, rather than rush around doing things all day long. Plan, and use my energy efficiently. Get up and walk around at the top of the hour, rather than stay glued to my chair in front of the computer. Continue to swim three times a week. I'm almost strong enough to add yoga.
I tried going back to yoga in the spring. I didn't have the strength. Pain from the Lyme disease infection I had three years ago flared. I had to take a step back and try something else. That's what brought me to this program.
Restoration to full health and vitality begins with nourishment. And, it turns out, the nourishment of air and water, food and dialogue that helps me understand my patterns. Why and how I do what I do. Conscious participation in my ways of being present to myself, to what is going on in and outside of me. Noticing what I'm taking in, both physically and mentally. Looking at how all this informs how I feel. Using spiritual practice to nourish things that may feel more elusive.
Entering the Wilderness is always a spiritual journey at its core, and moving through it reminds me that everything else is in service to our spirit. Don't let anyone ever tell you that what we eat or don't eat does not have spiritual impact. What we read or watch or see or hear.
While the air hung heavy with water yesterday, in the aftermath of the previous days' storms, we heard the news that five people died in the flash floods. Water rose on the road so quickly that cars were swept away. A family of four is missing. Last night we heard that the woman's body has been found. The car, her mother and two children have not been found. Crews were doing a step-by-step riverside search. I have not yet looked this morning to see the updates. The news of these tragedies hangs as heavy as the air. It touches the spirit. All that most of us can do is notice, and offer silent prayer. Appreciate our connection to each other and to the experience that what touches one life touches all life.
Our services yesterday were disrupted by tech difficulties and equipment failures. I moved a light-weight portable lectern into the center aisle, closer to the members of my congregation. There were no microphones and everything felt closer, more connected. We noticed who could not get to worship because of the high water and road damage. We sang, we prayed, we shared Holy Communion, we blessed prayer shawls. We took in the nourishment of community, of shared spiritual practice, of mutual blessing.
While this Green Wilderness journey is solitary, it stands within a larger communal context. None of us is ever really alone.
The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.
Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.
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