“I don’t want to go back to normal life,” the 16- year-old boy reading in a hammock nearby me turns to say. An ancient tree beneath me appeared to be sacrificed specifically for this moment in time- a concaved stump, perfect for resting with a good book. Some kids played around me, some rested, the sun was setting on this cool summer night and I couldn’t have been bothered to move. In the stillness of the moment, I too, wondered if there were such a way normal life could be this serene.
Just moments before, we investigated the ecosystems beneath many rocks at the bay. There was a hunt to find an enclosed shell and open for the anticipation of a supposed crab. The surprise awaited seconds before a pried open shell, all would gather for the disappointment of mud, or the excitement of a crab. The bay, though cold, had a gold ball at the horizon, and a beam of light tracing across the glistening water. The moment, was a regrettable one if missed. A couple of us took off our shoes, gently stepped across crystallized rocks, baring the cold with every step. Chilling sensations crept from the tops of the feet, up through the thighs, the tender sting of the stomach and the rush of a fully surrendered dive, making every cell awake, invigorated, alive. Columns of light pierced through the trees, creating a space in the shadows on the grass. Within time, the body shivered itself warm, while everything else felt restored, full of new energy. Back at the campsite, it was time to be still, to be playful, to make a temporary home at our secluded section of the forest. The planned miles for the day behind us, a warm propane stove heats the pasta shells, and enough hours are left before the moon awakes. What remains is open space, the kind that’s hard to find in normal life, space for recentering, for breathing, for simply being in such a way that creates individual expression and rejuvenation. Often times in normal life, that open space is easily missed.
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AuthorKatie Elizabeth: Writer, Wonderer, Wanderer. Archives
April 2022
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