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The Clearing

Nature is My Mirror

By Kathleen ThompsonPublished 3 years ago 5 min read
2
Inner Guide

Dear Reader, before you begin to read my story - I thought you might enjoy a lovely piece of music to set the tone for your own personal "walk" as you read my story. My amazing nephew, Scott David Thompson wrote this lovely piece of music which accompanies my words beautifully and sets the tone for the places in your heart I hope my story will inspire you to visit. So click on the musical link below, close your eyes, listen, and then read "The Clearing" - hoping that this experience guides you to some memory that is wanting to be remembered, honored, and/or bring you peace.

The Clearing

I walked along in the foothills, dense with brush, about two miles off the state highway. It had taken me an hour to get this far, but it was a journey to be travelled with awareness, not speed. I was conscious of everything around me. I gazed at the sky and thought it funny how the sky formed layers of clouds only to protect itself leaving only the sun uncovered. All of my senses felt alive. I tried to differentiate bird calls as I observed the Chickadees fly just ahead of me as they sang. I listened to the rustling of falling leaves. I gazed at the greens, the warm oranges, and the burnt reds of fall. I sought out rabbits and chipmunks hiding in the brush. I stopped to taste the last wild strawberries before they rotted in the foreshadowing cold. I noticed the earthy smell the air took on from the rain the night before. Autumn was in the air. Other days it was spring and summer; I had travelled the path many times before.

Stronger winds rose and made my hair fly about, but my steps never faltered. I knew each step of the way by heart. I knew where the cool brook entered near the hilly pathway, that same brook which as a child I loved to gaze into and stare at my reflection for hours on end. The old deserted farmhouse would soon be in sight. Just a few more feet and there it should stand. But it was not there, just a lonely patch of earth was where it once stood. I felt a vague sadness, but then I remembered that long ago I came upon this farmhouse and saw an old Barn Owl perched on the roof in silhouette – my memory still keeps and honors that sighting as a symbol of the wisdom held in the sacred space I would soon be entering. As I had reached the halfway mark of my journey, I invited that guardian to join me – I envisioned the Barn Owl perched on my shoulder as I continued walking.

Above me were the first trees bending forward while creating an arch; an entrance to the forest. I stopped and stood for a moment and listened to them breathing, or was it my own breath being taken away? The world I left seemed cold and unfriendly while the world I was about to enter made me feel whole and a part of something real. I had a name in this world as a pine tree does.

Now that I had reached the forest, my destination would soon be in sight; a small secluded clearing. The path was faint now, covered over with grasses, but I walked on. I remembered coming to the clearing another autumn day. Someone was burning leaves. I remembered the smoky air. My eyes followed the dancing of leaves in the music of the wind. In my mind I see myself dancing with them and suddenly I am a child jumping into their piles. Free flowing laughter escapes from my gut and hits their crispness. I am not afraid of getting hurt.

Once I walked along this same pathway as a child and crept up upon a single fawn drinking from the stream, but it scampered away as soon as it caught the scent of a human. It was then that I leaned over the stream and saw an innocent little girl with sparkling eyes peering back at me, only now as I looked, I saw another facet of myself. I looked older, a little more worn. But, I still felt the joy – could still feel this place. I had changed like the landscape had changed. The colors of the leaves as reflected in the stream were not as vivid as the leaves themselves. Water subdues color as I sometimes subdue my thoughts and emotions, but the beauty remains.

My hands were numb as I approached the clearing. I sat down. I was slightly uncertain as to why I was here. I felt at peace here, but I was no longer a child and couldn’t run to the clearing as long as often as I’d like it to.

I closed my eyes and let my thoughts take in the surroundings. I felt a great serenity within me. After awhile I realized that the numbness in my body was gone. I felt warmth upon my body. I thought it was the sun, but it was not. But, it was if the sun had hit my eyes for I opened them as if I was opening them for the first time. My surroundings were of Emerson’s poem on nature which I had heard many times before, but only at this moment did it make any sense.

“Each moment of the year has its own beauty,

And in the same field it beholds,

A picture that was never seen before,

And which will never be seen again.”

I realized the seasons had gone before me like memories of my childhood. That one could have a second childhood at any moment. Just let the forest call your name. The warmth that I felt did not from the clearing which surrounded me, but from the clearing within me.

nature
2

About the Creator

Kathleen Thompson

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