remembering Wild, embraced by Waterfall-ing, i am called back home
Back in June, I participated in an Eco-ministry Intensive led by Ecology of Awakening and The Chaplaincy Institute to re-attune myself to the rhythms of the natural world and discern the wisdom inherent in the wild.
Doing so, I hoped to find, well, hope. Hope in the face of our climate crisis. Hope in the face of the dominating myth of separation. Hope. Far from an empty hope, I wanted to come away with deeper spiritual roots to help sustain my future action in the name of a courageous hope. And while I did come away with those things, the whole of my being came away with so much more.
Surrounded by Bay Trees, Moss, Stone, and other fragrant Beings that I only know through my senses, I was ordained into the wild. At the base of Waterfall-ing, I was welcomed back home with Bay Tree as a witness.
Now, the reality of my initiation was not as majestic as it sounds. I had rubbed some bay leaves together and inhaled their scent. The effect was so jarring, so brain-gripping, I wondered if I was going to die right then and there as I held my head and awkwardly stumbled toward the waterfall. The rush of the icy water hitting me brought me out of my bay-leaf stun but caused me to unleash some guttural, gushing sounds that I did not know I could produce. I made my way back to dry land, shivering, wet, head still reeling, and sat.
I sat and wondered if I had been initiated correctly. I wondered if it was epic enough. But in this “incorrect” and “epic-less” account of my initiation rests the reality of the wild. Jarring, awkward, wet, messy, complete with sounds emanating from deep within, ones you’d never imagine you’d release. “Welcome back to the wild,” the Earth said to me. And I was home.
O Great Voice, call me home
O Great Voice,
Who calls to my inner wild
through the rage of waterfalling
through the whisper of the wind
through the melodies of sweet birdsong
help me to hear You
teach me to recognize You
so that i may find my way
back home in You
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