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Reyes The Pen Writer's Workshop - 8.25.23

8/26/2023

1) Alone In The Realm Of My Senses: I just sent my 20-year-old daughter off to traverse 5,045 miles across the globe for her collegiate life without me. And let me say, it never gets any easier to let her go. My grief and sadness over the long road of being by myself is always a huge shock when it happens, year after year. Even after playing the game of empty-nesting for 3 years, I still find it difficult to hold it together emotionally for a few days after she departs. It’s a huge transition from daily motherhood to eating toast over the sink by myself, it can be brutal for me. I now know that finding activities to keep my mind off my sadness is crucial, so I find myself at a writer’s workshop out at the magnificent Point Reyes National Seashore to distract me from my panic, fear, sadness, and the empty pit in my belly over her initial departure.

Words have been my solace and therapy since I was young, and writing during challenging times has been a lifeline that has kept me from going over the edge countless times in my roller coaster life, and now is no different. When I need to feel, I write.

Now, it’s not necessary to pity me for being alone. Being alone is a gift for me, one I cherish immensely, as with being alone I can fully gauge what I experience and feel without the outside influence of others. I can use my senses without any input other than what I pick up with my antenna of a body from the world around me. And so alone, I head out onto the trail to begin to compose the writing assignment about sensory perception out in the woods.

What I see is usually my first introduction to an unfamiliar environment. The mighty oaks, bay, and willows cover my pathway as they lend a mysterious shadow-side to the light coming from above. The brown of the grasses that line the path are not just brown, but grey, green, yellow, orange, and a multitude of other colors and shades, a plethora of earth tones that blend into one vibrant visual for my eyes.

My nose kicks into gear, picking up the dryness of the valley around me. Dust is kicked up as I walk; it is earthly, dense, and chalky, with hints of sage as it fills my nostrils. The air is filled with pungent pennyroyal and dry grasses with a hint of salt from the coast over the ridge. As I near a small, trickle of a stream, the aquatic aromas of algae, mud, and the damp odors that water creates take center stage over the dust. Mugwort and salvia send out a variety of medicinal smells that denote their true purpose as part of nature’s pharmacy.

With a body covered in skin that holds millions of sensors, I cannot help but physically feel the world around me. The sun’s heat versus the cool breeze. The leaves in my fingers and tree bark against my palms leave a dusty film. I feel my feet hit the ground and I notice every injury I have received over the last 5 years come shining through. I trudge on, knowing the hike will benefit me regardless.

The cacophony of birdsong is one of the forest’s gracious gifts to our ears. The woodpeckers knock and cackle as they go about their job of relieving trees of their bugs. The flocks of California quail call out their incessant “CHICAGO! CHICAGO!” as they scuttle across roadways and paths, their many offspring wiggling along behind them. The wind in the tall, undulating grasses hiss like rushing water, although water is scarce this time of year. The sound is still soothing. It is only when I hear a human voice on the trail do I remember that I am human, too, and not a wild animal of the woods.

If my heart pumped the ancient blood that carried the deeper knowledge of edible plants, I would no doubt have been able to identify more things I could survive on if need be. But still, my limited knowledge of herbs and plant identification allows me to know that I can taste the mugwort and it will be bitter but calming, that the wild amaranth drying next to the creek has seeds that pack nutrition, and that, during another season, the berry bushes I passed will eventually be filled with bright red thimbleberries, currants, and huckleberries.

Filling my senses with the world around me is my way of knowing I am part of the world itself, that I am not separate from it. Our senses are key in connecting us and solidifying ourselves in this world and with others. With all my senses in use, I am never alone on the paths I walk.

2) We Are All Gardeners: We are the gardeners of our lives. We are the ones who plant the seeds of our humble beginnings as humans, and we are the ones who need to nurture ourselves to grow. Ground your roots deep into the earth, and feel those roots grasp onto the network of community beneath your feet. Put your hand into the ancient soil that has fed life for eons with nutrients and minerals, and feel the past of who you were within its many grains. Survival isn’t enough, you must thrive and succeed in your garden of life, and therefore attention, commitment, and care are needed to further this process. Lift your arms to the heavens, as if you are offering up your branches to capture the wind, the sun, and the moisture present in the air to feed your soul. Allow those that you love to pollinate your heart with love and acceptance, and give back in kind, as the exchange of life force is how we learn, grow, and become the blossoms to carry on the seeds of love for everyone around us.

3) In This Landscape: This land that I exist in is crucial to my happiness, its rhythms of hill and ocean and grassland pulse through my veins like my own blood. This landscape, these trees, this place, this time, I cannot imagine my life without it anymore, as I have become part of the landscape itself. The spirit of the natural world around me saves me, nurtures me, and keeps me sane. This landscape is therapy, love, and joy. I utilize it to make me a better person so I can go out into the world and smile, laugh, and be kind to others and myself.

When I am in the trees, when the birds are the only creatures speaking to me, I truly relax and engage with myself more positively. The voices outside my head subside and quiet, the voices inside my head become calm and passive, and I feel at peace. Within this landscape, I am at the core source for upholding my true self.

Check out my photos from my wanderings...

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Photos: Pete Floyd - Rancho Nicasio - 8.27.23

Reyes The Pen Writer's Workshop - 8.25.23

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