Respite in the wild.

I have been writing part 2 to last weeks post and I’ll be honest – I’m struggling with it a bit.  Do I need to clutter the internet with information that is already out there? My spirit has been needing some solace. Some respite in the wild.  Yesterday I went for a long (15 km) hike with my best friend.  It was long, cold, snowy, and as a result by the time we got back to the car my knee was unhappy with me.

We chose to take a loop for the return because (frankly) the winter wind slapping our faces was a bit much.  We decided that hiking up sucks and we also decided that hiking down sucks.  On this particular trail that doesn’t leave much.

And yet.

The mystery of the wild wrapped itself around me.

Respite in the wild.

If only that was a better picture.

I am an herbalist in part because the wild speaks to me.  I want to share this Wendell Berry poem as I lack the words to capture what it means to me.  These pandemic days are hard.  Hang on, reach out, and if you can – take respite in the wild.

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief.  I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light.  For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.