Into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul
#7 A practice to ease loneliness, rhubarb and ginger gin and a feeling of welcome
This week I’m writing from a little cabin in the woods perched on the edge of Dartmoor - my new home for a time.
As I type my eyes flicker up to a new outlook, the familiar view of rolling Wiltshire hills marked with Cherhill’s White Horse have transformed into a wildish valley. In the distance mist gently rises from a small wooded coombe hiding the tumbling river Mardle. The crest of the hills are a frontier where three worlds meet - tame pasture, dense copse and rugged moorland. On my right lies the Holy brook which winds its way down into the lands of Buckfast Abbey. There is one thing however which remains the same, the magic which infuses the land at Wildling Studio is here too.
Whilst my last letters to you have included moments of captured magic in the spectacular skies at sunrise. Here my picture window framed with fairy lights captures sunsets instead. I sense there is an encrypted message here … something about new perspectives - perhaps that the setting of things can be just as beautiful as the rise.
“And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul” - John Muir
Remembering we are welcome
A practice I have found supportive in the last months of this transition time revolves around the word ‘welcome’.
As Lindsey and I walked the South West Coast Path we made an act of visiting each little place of worship we stumbled upon. In one such place I was profoundly moved by an incredibly simple laminated sign on which was written the words “you are very welcome here”.
A sense of being gladly received touched on the tender nerves of all the times I have felt lost, alone and like I didn’t quite fit in - heart panging feelings familiar to the human condition - ones I know we all experience from time to time.
Of late, what I have found most helpful during these moments is trusting, deep down, I am welcome. When it feels too big a leap in regards to my human counterparts, I imagine I’m gladly received by the earth beneath me - that she enjoys the feel of me sitting upon her, that the plants and trees around me enjoy my pottering company.
I can rest back in my kinship with the natural world - just as you can.
(Although, I would like to kindly request that the spiders here keep to their own bed at night. It appears Dartmoor spiders are more cuddly than Wiltshire ones.)
When meeting my landlady for the first time here, I shared my musings on ‘welcome’ with her, as I felt she was not only a landlady but a lady-of-the-land. Last Thursday I arrived to a small note she had left for me - declaring me WELCOME and hoping that
“the trees and the hills and the silence wrap around you and hold you gently in your transition”
Tonight I welcome you to join me virtually resting back in heart connection with each other.
Every Sunday at 8:30pm you can join me on Zoom for twenty minutes of radiating heart. (This is a free community offering)
Rhubarb and ginger gin, friendship and cake
Just before I set off on Thursday morning my dear friends in the Wildling Growing Collective gathered to wish me a happy send me off. Kate brought along a tipple of homemade rhubarb and ginger gin for us accompanied by Sarah and Lindsey’s delicious homemade cake and cookies, The act of gathering, small acts of kindness and cake are incredibly nourishing to the soul - all new adventures should start this way.
If you’d like to be a part of the growing collective or would like Kate’s rhubarb and ginger gin recipe, don’t hesitate to get in touch with Wildling Studio. The land has an exciting tree planting event which I’ll be back for in March!
Wishing you a happy Sunday afternoon and sending much love as always,
Camille