Pilgrimage

This is not a dream. Although its contents do resemble a very delicious chimerical vision. I traveled with my family to the entrance of Maine’s North Woods (our yearly summer pilgrimage), just shy of unmarked territory, which means there are no towns or powerlines; just dirt logging roads and endless wild, untamed, unkempt natural beauty. We tent camp for the week. Cook our meals over a smoky, crackling campfire. Bathe in the crystalline lake. Surrounded by natural beauty of this magnitude makes it easy to quiet the mind, clear it of circling thoughts, and be fully present in the moment, open to receive ripe sensual gifts like the pewter shade of a plump storm cloud, the feel of soft spongy pine needles under my feet, the tantalizing ancient scents of smoke from the fire mixed with cleansing pine, the haunting cry of the loons and the sound of water lapping against the rocky shore lulling me to sleep, shimmery gold beneath the water’s surface, the rich smooth earthy sips of coffee poured from the classic percolator, and the visual of the fine textural details of evergreen tops that compose the meandering line of the mountain range. I invite you in…
XO