Listening for the Whisperings

My last post was in February, it is now September, six months later. My excuse? I've needed time away from the computer. I've needed to make the time and take the time to get my hands full of paint, to walk my labyrinth and feel the wet grass beneath my feet. I've needed to have time to play with fabric, enjoying it's texture, finding ways to use it in new projects. Time to just "listen to the trees whispering and think no thoughts" as Anne Hillman so perfectly writes.

This need was confirmed this past week when I spent a week on Mallard Island in Rainy Lake, Minnesota. I realized just how much I love being surrounded by water and how much easier it was to connect to my essence without the phone ringing, emails to reply to and the constant noise of the world revolving around me.

The island is the legacy of Ernest Oberholzer, one of the original pioneers of saving the wilderness areas of our nation. "Ober" as he is fondly known, said it perfectly: "Man was made for broad scenes and tall shadows. He craves a noble background. Cramp him, and he revolves in an ever narrowing circle, until finally he doubts his own destiny. The song goes out of his heart."


This week was a gift to my soul and a reminder to spend more time surrounded by nature.

"There is a way that nature speaks, that land speaks. Most of the time we are simply not patient enough, quiet enough, to pay attention to the story."
Linda Hogan

But I think I'll also be making time to record my journey again. It helps me to see more clearly.