A couple months ago I went back to Minnesota to celebrate my parents' 50th Anniversary with my family. It was an almost unprecedented visit as all five siblings, plus their respective families, were present in the same place at the same time. Our celebration took the form of four days of camping in Grand Marais, on the North Shore of Lake Superior where we had camped countless times when we siblings were growing up.
We are a very close family, whom I love more than words can say, and we are also a whirl wind of opinions and preferences and expectations that do not always align with each other. Being who I am, Mr Sensitive-Introvert, it is easy for me to get lost in the whirl wind, and I found myself constantly repeating to myself the words Artemis is always whispering to me -- "Be the eye of the storm." It was difficult to maintain my boundaries and individuality until something magickal happened.
On one of the days we were there, we traveled a little further North to visit a water falls at a state park that was just south of the Canadian border. We gathered at the information building and then, as is the nature of our group, half of our populace darted ahead while the other half dragged behind.
I found myself in the first group who seemed to be almost in a race to find the falls, so, not surprisingly, when I lingered to close my eyes and greet the Spirit of this place, I suddenly found myself alone. I felt almost suspended between the two halves of my family.
My brain niggled me to hurry and catch up with the first group. But my heart said no. This was the eye of the storm. The calm and quiet that washed over me was palpable.
It was at this point that it struck me -- I didn't need to string myself out to the point of depletion in the 'energy overwhelm/over-stimulation' mode that is common to introverts when they spend too much time around others, and then totally crash when I get home and am able to finally spend restorative time alone, gulping in the solitude like a swimmer does air after being under water too long. No, I needed to pepper the time spent with others with moments of solitude, like the breathing rhythm of a dolphin surfacing for air then diving beneath the waves, then surfacing again.
I took a deep breath and let it out. "Pheeewwww!" Then something else struck me. I was not alone. These woods were thick with spirits! I mean, it was like walking through soup. And they beckoned me forward...
My steps and my heart were suddenly lighter as I practically pranced down the path, spinning in circles, my arms slightly outstretched from my sides, and my hands and face upraised in gratitude to the welcome I felt here. Only later was I to find out that this park was on Reservation land, and still in the care of the tribe whose home this had been for longer than America had been a country. This land was teaming with the spirits of the ancestors.
Shortly I found, off to the side of the paved path, a dirt trail snaking down into the trees. "I'd better stay on the real path so I don't get lost, or damage wildlife, or make my family worry about where I am..." Is what my brain said. But it was too late. My heart had control of my feet and they were already traversing the uneven trail into the trees and into whatever unknown vista lie beyond them. This was the proverbial 'Road Less Travelled' and I realized how perfect it was, particularly following my earlier revelation. "Yes," I thought, "This is the 'Shaman's Path'."
Beyond the branches and the brush, the scene opened up onto lush grasses, dotted with an occasional purple flower...
...eventually easing down to the Pigeon river.
Interesting that Pigeon medicine, the name-sake of this particular river, is about coming home...
I could hear the falls ahead so, rather than returning to the pavement and being led on my way, I continued on my dirt trail that now paralleled the river. The uneven ground kept me present in my body and aware of my connection to the earth on which I strode, and the brush of leaves and branches against my arms made this a more intimate journey -- I was part of my environment, connected to the land, rather than just observing it from a distance on a cold, black-top path. And there was a swirling energy of exhilaration as my spirit danced with the vibrant spirits of this land. Definitely the Shaman's path.
My solitary path soon rejoined the main one and I heard the buzz of my family ahead, up on the boardwalks that over look the falls. I joined them feeling remarkably refreshed by my little solo jaunt through the woods. Then I saw the falls. Never, I believe, have I ever felt so moved by waterfalls as I was at that moment. I was literally awestruck. I don't know if I even said another word as I mingled and posed for photos with my family, always intensely aware of the falls.
Eventually my family wandered off, back toward the information center, leaving me alone to swim through and drink in the power of this place and the Spirit that permeated everything here.
For the longest, timeless moment I just stood there. Staring. In awe. My mind kept looking for words with which to connect with the Spirit of the Falls, but my heart was already there, already one. Finally I asked, "Do you have a message for me?" The single word, whispered answer echoed in my head... "Surrender."
I looked again at the cascading waters, struck by another "Aha!" moment. This incredible, thundering power that you could viscerally feel pounding on your skin was the result of surrender. The waters had no agenda or force of will. They were not leaping into space, nor were they throwing, flinging, or casting themselves over the edge of the cliff. The waters are neutral energetically. They have no force of their own, but rather total nonresistance to all fores acting upon them, be they temperature, pressure, or gravity. No resistance. None.
In a class with Sandra Ingerman we had performed shamanic journeys where we merged with the various elements. When I merged with the familiar waters of Puget Sound, I experienced first hand this total nonresistance. Every sensual ripple from a passing boat or the flip of a fin washed over and through me in a new wave of ecstasy. Every rise or drop in temperature yielded a corresponding rise or drop in me, again being very sensuous as portions of me slid across other portions of me. Though I had no initial mode of movement in and of my self, I was in constant, rolling, bubbling motion. Joyful, blissful motion.
Because I could not be destroyed, not even one single particle, there was an absolutely complete absence of fear. With that absence came the absolutely complete freedom to let go of everything. I needn't hold on or cling to anything. I was open to experience every minuscule vibration. That is ultimate Freedom. That is ultimate Surrender.
And That was the surrender I was witnessing at the falls, the waters giving no shred of resistance at all to the pushes and pulls of gravity. And yet, from that absolute surrender comes this incredible force, so powerful it runs a huge portion of the civilized world's electrical needs.
The power of surrender.
The awareness of time slowly seeps back into my brain and I realize I need to head back. Because I don't have my normal offering of tobacco with me, I cock my head and run my fingers through my hair until several errant strands stream from my hand. I close my eyes and connect with the spirits of this place, and thank them profusely for such a profound visit. Opening my eyes I release the strands of hair, my meager offering, over the edge of the railing.
Reluctantly I turn back to the paved path and make my way back through the thick spirit soup of these woods, vowing to myself that I would renew my study of Taoism - The Watercourse Way.
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