There is a pleasure in the pathless woods.

Tonight I leave you with this lovely poem by George Gordon Byron (1788 – 1824). The forest is the place to be. It is our home, and some day we shall return to it.

Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,

There is a rapture on the lonely shore,

There is society where none intrudes,

By the deep Sea, and music in its roar:

I love not Man the less, but Nature more,

From these our interviews, in which I steal

From all I may be, or have been before,

To mingle with the Universe, and feel.

What I can ne’er express, yet cannot all conceal.

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean – roll!

Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;

Man marks the earth with ruin – his control

Continue reading “There is a pleasure in the pathless woods.”

Connecting the End of Summer to My Disconnect

For the past few months, I’ve been disconnected with the movement of the world. I didn’t know what caused this lack of grounding, so I passed the days tackling the large list of projects I have on the go. Some days, I felt disorientated. It was like I was lost, a drift at sea with no land in sight and no sails to propel me forward.

This inspired a trip to a medium to see if I could find the source of the disconnect. Coincidentally, before I sat down, she had a vision of me walking the beach searching for people to save from a ship wreck. Apparently, I had feared my light was not bright enough to guide the ship to safety. However, my job was to save those who managed to crawl from the sea and to gather the bodies that drifted in.

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The Jodrey Trail and a Scene from Shadows in the Stone

Last summer, I hiked the Jodrey Trail, Blomidon Park, Nova Scotia. The entire hike provided breathtaking scenery, but there was one section that stood out above the rest for reasons others in the hiking group wouldn’t understand. While I’d never been on this trail before, I had explored it in my imagination.

Jodrey Hiking Trail Blomidon

Setting the scene

The vegetation was lush. Tall trees provided a thick canopy that trapped cool moisture and reflected the heat from the scorching temperatures of the hot July day. It also provided the perfect micro-environment for ferns and mosses to grow. Inhaling filled me with the wonderful aromas of the forest.

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Wandering without Complaints

Cape Split on a foggy day in June.

I’ve always been a wanderer. As a kid I’d follow the bigger kids or adults into the woods and along babbling brooks in search of adventure. Some times we walked a short distance on well-beaten paths; other times, we bush-wacked our way deep into the forest where we set up tents and spent the night.

The more time I spent in the woods, the more I wanted to be in them. The older I got, the more I went off alone. By the time I was 16, I was wandering for hours alone in the forest. By the time I was 19, there were days I’d be gone eight hours. Just me. Sometimes a dog. Most times not. I took nothing with me, not even water, a compass or matches. I never feared the woods; it made me stronger, more independent.

Like everything in life, not everyone goes on adventures or into the woods eagerly. Sometimes they are asked and feel obligated to tag along. Other times, they’re coerced, such as siblings and children, because they are forced to experience the outdoors or they couldn’t be left alone.

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