How Nature Saved My Life: Part Two

A few quick notes before we begin. This is part two of an ongoing story, so if you haven’t read part one, it might be helpful to go back and do so. This series is an ongoing story of how nature, druidry, and witchcraft helped pull me out of a mental health crisis and make me who I am today.

Like part one, this story does contain discussion of pregnancy loss and mental health struggles, so if you’re not up for reading about that, I completely understand.

We left off at one of the darkest moments of my life, and yet, possibly the most transformative. I was struggling very badly with my mental health in the wake of an identity crisis and recent pregnancy loss, and after finally starting to receive help, I took a camping trip to a local state park with my husband to get away from our problems for a few days.

Camping was new to me. I didn’t grow up in a family that camped. I was a little wary of the heat and the idea of creatures crawling on me as I slept (did I internalize that fear from The Parent Trap as a child?), but we had absolutely no money for a “real” vacation. My husband was a seasoned camper, so I agreed to give it a try.

My only request was to be within walking distance of the community bathrooms (one step at a time) and near the water. I am, as my family referred to me, a water baby. The river, the lake, and especially the ocean have always been my happy places.

So we set up our tent on our little campsite by the lake, and I curled up in my little red folding chair with a book in one hand, and a crisp Dr. Pepper in the other, while my husband grilled hot dogs over our little fire. My book sat, unopened, for a while, as I looked out over the glittering lake. The longer I sat, the slower my breath became, and I felt my muscles, wound tightly from a lifetime of stress and anxiety, begin to soften ever so gently. It would be a long while before I could truly relax my body and my nervous system, but that day, sitting by the lake with no phones buzzing, no people talking, no traffic and city noise, that day was when it started.

I don’t know how long I sat there for, but eventually I joined my husband by the fire and we ate hot dogs, and I roasted my first marshmallow, and we spent hours just looking at the stars. It was the first time I felt true peace in a long time. I was still in pain, in agony over the baby that should have been there with us, but the crackling of the fire, the whistling of the trees, and the humming of the cicadas (one of my favorite sounds in the entire world) drowned it all out for a simple, gentle moment.

The next morning, I woke with the sun as she poked her head in through the tiny window in our little blue tent. I stood outside and stretched, basking in the fresh, crisp air coming off the lake, and made my way down the path towards the community bathroom.

As I made my way back towards the campsite, I had the luck of taking a wrong split on the path. It had walked quite a ways before I realized what I had done, but after an initial moment of panic, I remembered that on the map my husband had shown me the day before, it showed all of the short trails looping back around to the larger one I had mistakenly left. If I kept going, it should simply take me back to the right trail.

So, I continued.

As I rounded the bend, the thicket of trees opened up to a small clearing. Sitting in that clearing, basking in the sunshine, were three women. They were beautiful, sitting cross-legged in a triangle, and meditating in the bright morning sunshine. The path I was following would pass right by them, and I hated to disturb their silent meditation, but I also didn’t want to turn around at the risk of getting even more lost. I walked as quietly as I could by them, but not quietly enough. The woman in the center, a small woman with a thick, silver mound of curls piled atop her head, opened her eyes.

“I’m so sorry to disturb you,” I said, because no matter what, apparently, I am a yapper.

I expected her to be irritable, upset even, this was deep in the pandemic, when things were tense, and it felt like simply looking at someone the wrong way could cause a scene, especially here in the south.

Instead, she surprised me with a smile.

“Ph,you didn’t, dear,” she assured me, and he friends opened their eyes and welcomed me with small nods and friendly hellos.

I took the opportunity to make sure I was on the correct path back to the campsites, and they assured me that I was. But then, a different woman with a blonde ponytail and kind eyes beckoned me towards their little group.

“We’re heading back in a few minutes anyway. Why don’t you sit with us for a moment, and then we’ll head back together?”

What the hell, why not?

They made space for me in their little triangle, now a circle, and they closed their eyes once more, this time in prayer. The third woman, in green cargo shorts and a t-shirt adorned with a big blue butterfly, opened her mouth to speak.

I mentioned in part one that I was raised in the church, so I am pretty familiar with most of the main prayers, if you will, and with what it sounds like when people ad-lib it, but this was a prayer I had never heard before. It was beautiful, and I realized as she spoke that the prayer didn’t seem to be aimed towards a singular God, but at the spirits and the nature surrounding us.

I longed to ask them more, but spirituality here in the south can be a very private thing, especially if you aren’t practicing along the mainstream, so I kept a tight lip. They had already welcomed me into what felt like a very special and sacred place, and for that I was grateful. I didn’t want to pry any more.

I did, however, look up the prayer when I got home, the phrases that I could remember anyway, and after I scrolled through the responses, I landed on one that looked nearly identical.

It was titled The Druid's Prayer.

I clicked on it, and it led me to a website, and then a blog, and then I searched things I had learned from that blog, and it led me to another website, and another blog, and sooner than later, I was down the rabbit hole; and well on my way to healing.

I understand how this sounds, that stumbling across a gathering of Druids in the woods introduced me to a sense of spirituality that felt like home, and subsequently changed my life for the better. I know how it sounds, but it’s the truth, and it’s just the beginning of the story I have to tell; a story of love, of more loss, of finding a home within the universe and within my own body, of healing from religious trauma, and of becoming my truest and favorite self without giving a home to shame and guilt.

If you’ve read this far, please know how grateful I am, and if you can relate to this story at all, I am so sorry, and am extending you a virtual hug and a soft place to land.

More to tell in a week or two. Stay tuned.

XO, Alys