Recharging in the Woods

Wk 2- Jan. 12- Personal Practice- Share your favorite spiritual/magickal practices. What tools are incorporated into your daily practice? What feeds you and replenishes you?


To answer that, let me tell you a story:

Friday when I got home from work I was feeling a bit off. Nothing in particular was wrong. I didn't feel overly tired, didn't work that hard that day…but there was something. Enter one of my favorite spiritual practices…time in the woods. I didn't take any tools, wear anything special, or make any preparations. I just put my gloves on and set off.

That day, I was lucky. I was spending time with a friend who has land out in the country and a delightful tribe of kitties. One of my favorites is a young male with gorgeous orange swirled markings. The internet tells me this is called "classic tabby" - who knew?! He trotted along with me through the yard, and to my surprise, he stayed with me.

I wasn't feeling quiet enough in my soul to make my steps silent, nor did I have the patience to go slowly. My steps were loud in the pine needle carpeted woods. When I reached the fallow field, deer startled from the tall grass, the waving of their tails white flags in the golden afternoon light. My feline companion went alert, trotting a short distance in their direction.

The pond was perfectly still, its surface mirroring the clear sky. Trees fringed its periphery, restricting the light to a slanting golden glow that picked out details with aching beauty. The reeds standing up in the water. Lacy broom fronds waving at the water's edge. A flock of wood ducks exploded into flight, their wings throwing up sparkling droplets.

I walked through deer-nibbled briers to the small brook flowing from the pond. Its burbling song soothed me and rooted me to the spot. At length, I settled to the ground. Meanwhile, the little orange cat investigated our surroundings.

A wax myrtle framed the mouth of the stream and on it, a chickadee hopped about. The cat grew interested in this, but his prize lay across the stream. He watched intently, nose twitching, and I could see the wheels turning in his mind. Was this prize worth risking the waters? Was it close enough for a pounce?

He decided against it and attempted to suavely pretend as if he was only interested in a drink from the stream. The chickadee continued about its avian business, seemingly unalarmed by its brush with death. I sat and watched the goings-on, allowing the peace of the scene to steal into my soul. My consciousness faded into the surroundings and my sense of self blissfully dissolved.

Something about that golden light seemed to suspend time. It seemed to me that the afternoon would never end, that I could sit there forever. The stream would burble endlessly, the birds would chirp and flit about and the cat would alternately beg for attention and wander about. The sheer perfection of it all was nearly too much to bear. So beautiful…it's impossible to put into words. There is a rightness that can only be sensed by the heart, by the spirit. That rightness was present, and I was grateful. I could feel my strength and equilibrium returning.

At length, a silent internal signal told me it was time to leave. I felt ready to face the world once again, though with some reluctance. I gave my thanks to the Goddess and to the spirits of that place, rose and slowly made my way home.

This is my favorite spiritual practice. This is my magic. I commune with our sacred Earth, with her forests, meadows, streams and lakes. Wherever I find myself, I am at home. Whenever my spirits are low, or when I have a problem to think through…I go outside and walk. Sometimes I sit. Sometimes I play music or sing. That's all. No tools, no ceremony, no special time or day aligned with a table of correspondences. There is a time and a place for formalized practices, and I do use them. But my true power lies in the silence of nature. If I had no other practice, this would be enough.