Rebalancing, Part 2: Greeting the Land

The first day or so after we arrived was filled with the details of settling in to this new domicile, searching for & finding (or not finding) all those material bits we take for granted until we do not have them easily at hand. Like can openers. Why do they hide?

Greeting the Pacific Ocean, once again.

By the second or third day, I felt an irrepressible urge to formally greet the Land, its spirits, creatures, woodlands, bogs & in particular, the Ocean. It was time to take the wander through the rich, moist boreal forest that rubs shoulders with the Alaskan coastline. It was time to say hello again to the smell of brine & mud, to gaze beyond the reaches of the land, beyond the sea toward the horizon. As a native desert creature, I need this. I have always felt slightly (sometimes greatly) unsettled by landscapes which obscure the horizon. The ocean often becomes a saving grace -- its vast, smooth surface mollifying me with an unhindered view of where I stand on this Earth.

Alaska. This place, this Land has a presence all its own. This is difficult to articulate, but if you are open to it, it is almost palpable. You can breathe it into your lungs, thick & heady. You can feel it pressing on your skin. It smells strongly of... ha, Alaska. There are no words. It can only be experienced in person, with your being. In concert with this dense, hulking presence of place, there is a bursting population of lesser, no, smaller entities here. Droves of them. This place hums with life & energy & spirit. It is abuzz, teeming & ebullient with hoardes of diverse creatures; beings of all forms & functions. 

Hello again,
Northern Horned Ones.

This Land & its inhabitants are substantial, raw, unsubdued & so very, very damp. They exist in stark contrast to my arid region cohorts who seem almost etherial by comparison; my one ton grass chewing bovine friends are but a whisper in the heat when I consider the weighty richness of a rotting log here in this damp & fertile forest. So, it is here I find myself, rebalancing, recalibrating. This place operates on a different scale.

Greetings this time consisted of simple, appreciative nods, winks & "hello"s. Nothing elaborate or heavy, everything just casual, familiar, down-to-Earth. As I seldom have a moment to myself anymore -- always existing in the company of my wee folk -- I made no production of it & perhaps no production is necessary. After all, with few exceptions, we humans seem to be the only beings who need elaborate ritual to acknowledge our spiritual neighbors. 

Dandelion (Taraxacum officinale) tea.

While I am on the subject of wee folk, I will note that Little Lad appears to have his own ways of rebalancing, reconnecting, recalibrating. The very first day here he began foraging. He has been quite steadily & systematically gathering dandelions (Taraxacum officinale) for me to dry for tea. While I am not sure this task makes all that much sense with all the other tasks & concerns at hand, I cannot deny him. So I found a second life for the threadbare cotton poplin sheets I did not have the heart to toss. I tore them into squares & used them like cheesecloth to hang dry bundles of dandelion petals. Little Lad also harvested an Artist's Conk (Ganoderma applanatum) (after asking its permission) & several pieces of wood stained with Blue Stain Fungus (Chlorociboria aeruginascens). Watching him, I am reminded how we all connect with the Land in our own fashion. That is, if we choose to engage, to have & nurture that relationship.

In these fresh days, I relish this new-feeling, yet well-known energy that surrounds me. It's corny, but cannot help but think of that old Journey song -- I don't recall the title, or most of the lyrics, but there is a line that says something akin to, "I get the joy of rediscovering you..." Rediscovering. Rekindling a passion. Yes. That is what greeting this Land means to me. What joy it is.