FROM WASTELAND TO WILDERNESS

"The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness." - John Muir

In some places, the banks of the Merrimack River offer a view that might convince you of wilderness, surrounded on all sides by the natural world. However, not far from the place where I took this picture lies a gigantic, sprawling, overbearing spaghetti tangle of on and off ramps leading to the highway, a major artery heading south into Boston and north to Manchester. I can hear the cars at night and early morning from my house, something I couldn't experience when we lived in Vermont. I'll take the wilderness, even though it can be strange and a little scary at times, over the urban or suburban "wasteland" any day.

So what about the "wasteland"? Let's start there. Because it's where I've been. To some people, our modern world is a wasteland. Heck there is even a poem about it. T.S. Eliot's poem The Waste Land is a maddening, disquieted and fervorous lamentation of the dying (or dead) heart of modern Western life. Click here for a Guardian newspaper article that summarizes that poem as a "the radical text of a wounded culture."

'It is a poem in which polluted rivers, and canals by the gasworks, are the barren landscapes undone by wrongful acts and unasked questions in Arthurian legend. What was old and fine has become sinister and distorted and changed; what is new is cheap and vulgar and shoddy –"we are in rats' alley / where the dead men lost their bones".' - the Guardian, April 17, 2014 

If I believe what I wrote in my last post that "what is within is without" and "what is without is within", then one could easily imagine these images of wasteland as reflecting our internal state of affairs - an internal wasteland where the river of spirit no longer flows or is dammed up and the beating drum of our heart is stilled. That's how I feel and have felt for the last three years since moving to Massachusetts. And, it's not just because I moved from a beautifully scenic state (Vermont) to a concrete-covered suburb of Boston [although that can be partly to blame and is an easy target for such blame - here's a picture of my commute!].

So, yes, it's partly the commute and the concrete that makes me feel like I live in a wasteland. But, it's also in part the "vibe" of the place (it's suburban), lack of wooded places to walk, and the fact that I lack a "tribe." Sure, I have some family here now (and I'm thankful for that!) but I spent 10+ years building a tribe in Vermont! They were like home. And, now, although I could visit (and have) we are no longer relevant in one another's lives in the way that we used to be.

Add all of the above to the pot, bring it to boil and then - oh, don't forget. Add to the soup of changed scenery and loss of tribe the key ingredient...trauma and mid-life. And, so we turn to Dante:

"Midway on our life's journey, I found myself in dark woods, the right road lost. To tell about those woods is hard - so tangled and rough." - Dante's Inferno. Canto I.

Trauma and mid-life go together like PB & J. Not as delicious though. While I won't get into the trauma details for me (some things are just too personal!), the combination of a drastic jolt of news and a lickety-split move, all during the tumultuous time of mid-life, can be enough to raise the white flag of surrender! And, in that surrender, I realize that my internal state of affairs had become like an internal wasteland. I liken it to a sensation of dying a slow, internal death. But, it's not all bad. There's a silver lining. It's painful enough that I've learned to read it like a wake-up call. Like a heart attack is to the body, but instead an arrest of the spirit. It's the psyche's way of sending an internal signal to wake up and make some changes. Pull back, take a different path, go faster, go slower, turn right, or turn left, add more or subtract. Deepen, widen, breathe, reach out, explore, trust, adjust. Adjustments. Adjustments need to be made in order to move fully in heart, body, soul and mind into the next half (God willing) of life.

So, if the goal is to move away from the internal "wasteland", then towards what? My response, for now, is "wilderness." I've been walking in a small patch of "wilderness" in my neighborhood. And, when I go, I walk it for at least 45 minutes if not longer. And, that little patch of "wilderness" has been a saving grace for me.

It's not just a habit or a routine, it's a ritual. And, for every lovely ritual there is a mythology. What's my mythology? Not sure yet; I'm slowly discovering it here. Walking this path (and the circular leafy path that branches off of this main paved path) is akin to walking my own internal path, not yet named, not yet identified, not yet completely understood. When I walk the circular leafy path, I imagine the space inside the circle being a wellspring of natural magic with the capacity to rejuvenate and restore me. I've even walked a circle in the snow and then gone to stand in the middle "just cuz." I know full well what I'm doing. I'm exploring and getting to know the Self. So, it seems to me that I have to walk this "wilderness" over and over again to find my source, to get to know my Self, to find my true path in life.

Along the way, I notice things. I become reverent. Observant. The entryway to the circle path is marked by a fallen tree (shown below) and a rotting tree that is upright with a series of majestic mushrooms. I have to bend under this tree to get by and have started to give it a little heart-center prayer sign (a little bit of namaste goes along way) when I go through. It's just enough of a ritual to make the walk pretty darn cool.

The walk is kind of like this: Have you ever had a dream where you go to a house that is familiar and there are extra rooms that you never new about? Jungian psychology suggests that house dreams are references to the "Self". The house is your Self; and the rooms in the house are the parts of your Deepest Self you didn't know existed. Usually, those rooms are the coolest rooms there are and you want to stay there...forever! 

This circle path is kind of like that. I didn't know it existed until just this winter when I started walking (a lot). When I found it, it was like an extra room of my "Self", so I make nice with it and cross the threshold (or duck under it) with reverence every time I pass.