Solitude with Rilke & The Wisdom of the Fox

I sit by an ancient volcano crater and my thoughts float by like the lone cloud I’m watching out west.

Honouring the sacred ways.

How do we move towards that as a collective?

Indeed, a mighty big question to ask. I dare say that many things in this regard are for sure, one of which is tending to our gardens, inside and out. Returning to country, as custodians and stewards of land. Being the change. Embodying the medicine of heart and soul.

Last night I slept under a blanket of stars out here in the wild. I was going to share about the necessity of vision quests in our modern times; the result of which can be like a warm cooked meal to the soul on a cold winters eve.

But here I am, resting into a deep well of sadness. A longing, for a time long gone and a time yet to come. The lake below speaks to me. “Sorrow is sacred”.

Rilke comes to mind, when he writes "The quieter, the more patient and open we are in our sadness, the deeper and more unerringly the new will penetrate into us..."

There’s a whole lot of grief that hasn’t been felt. Not just by me, but as a collective. The flashy distractions of contemporary culture have sure played their part in ensuring we don’t excavate the depth of these sorrows.

I spent the day sauntering around the crater rim of this sacred site, walking the interior lake, bowing head to ancient caves, and finding silence in dense bush; getting to know the land, allowing the land to know me, asking for permission and blessings to quest for the night.

The dark eerie of black sky, mysterious shadows, removal of safety, and the uncertainty of the wild night is good for the soul.

I can feel the spirits and ancient ones of the land calling out. Perhaps it's not that they can't hear us, but we can't hear them. Not that the majority of us are speaking to them in a good way.

In the name of ‘ayni’ - sacred reciprocity, if we attune our ears to the land and speak words of prayer and reverence, we may just receive some much needed messages for these dire times that we’re in.

No one has all the answers to what’s going on in the world, but it's pretty damn clear that deception is at hand.

You might know the story of The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. I’m reminded of the fox, sharing his wisdom:

"It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."

I know one thing for sure, being out here alone in the wilderness is one sure way to let the heart speak.

As I wind down pencil to paper, I once again remember Rilke: "It is good to be alone, for solitude is difficult; that something is difficult should be one more reason to do it."

To the wild.