Sitting by the water
I’m not sure where you are while reading this, but I am in pennsylvania and winter has been very insistent this year. I can’t remember the last time its snowed this much, this often or been this cold for so long. some days, I’m all in and some days I just want to crawl under the covers until the crocus start to peek through the blades of grass and declare that its spring. some days I feel like if I can’t go sit by the river I am just going to dehydrate right then and there. its been a week since I was there last, feels like a month, but its only been a week so I figured I could reminisce a little bit. gosh that sounds so dramatic, like its been 3 months, 3 years, 3 decades since I heard the rush of the water and its literally been 6 days. oh well, the dark of winter sometimes brings out my dramatic side, I'm certain I am not alone in these feelings.
I was super lucky last week when I was there. it was cold, not so cold that it was unbearable but still cold. the snow was still deep and up above my ankles but the walk through the forest to the spot on the river where I wanted to sit was beautiful. quiet, white, like a black and white photo come to life. the sky was different dappled shades of gray, the ice along the banks of the river was white and with no sun to bounce off the rushing center of the river, it too was dark and a little foreboding if I’m being honest.
But, with all that being said, it was glorious! I set my blankets on a fallen tree, I opened my backpack and took out my thermos and my mug and I poured myself a steaming mug of cacao. it was, as always, a soul feeding moment. the steam curled above the pouring cacao, dancing in the cold air, a few romantic little snowflakes began to fall as if it the universe was showing me that I was worthy of the whole experience. a light breeze kicked up, just enough to brush my cheeks in a soft caress like a kiss from my mom.
the trees were so still, like sentinels standing watch to make sure I was safe and secure in a place where no one was within shouting distance, the closest house was across the river and up the embankment with all the of the windows closed tight against the 30 degree weather. No one would have heard me had I needed anything which meant the chances of anyone interrupting me were pretty slim. the birds sang sweetly, never once going quiet, just another indication that it was a safe space to whisper a spell and make an offering to the river spirits.
and offer, I did. I broke out my little ceramic censor, a small charcoal disc, my fancy butane lighter and a glorious little pouch of “mom magic” resin that I get from a great little apothecary in FLorida. I sat there and reveled in the brisk smell of winter and breathed in the chill emanating from the snow nest around me and I felt rejuvenated. the dehydration from not having been to visit the river in many weeks seem to be dissipating and I felt fed. not, I just ate a couple of slices of pizza fed, but the relief of anxiety from the state of this current timeline fed, the aches in my body were relieved, my foggy menomind seemed to clear up a bit and my heart felt lighter than it had in days after having fallen into that awful space of doomscrolling that plagues so many of us.
while I sat there, I dreamt of spring and what it will be like to watch the forest come back to life and it was glorious to be able to envision the buds forming on the finger tips of the standing people, the small shoots of grasses poking up from the soil, the ferns uncurling, the river rushing a little faster because all of the ice flows had begun to dissipate and I was happy and if my feet hadn’t started to go numb because surprisingly enough my boots were not water proof I may still be sitting there listing to the rush of the river dancing across the rocks.
fast forward a week and I am sitting here whining because its been too long since I heard the rush of the river, winter sure gets to me. but it’s okay, I convinced my husband that the sea witch was calling and tomorrow we are going to the beach for the night so that we can sit with grandmother cacao and the sea witch Saturday morning for sunrise. keep him in your thoughts, he is not accustomed to cold adventures like this; last year he nearly froze to death when I convinced him to do it, I can’t believe he agreed to go again…but I am so excited!!!! I’ll let you know how it goes, fingers crossed the sky is clear and grandfather sun is able to greet us with all of his glory.
until next time, please allow some magic into your life, be it sitting on the porch, walking through your neighborhood, listening to the starlings sing or sitting by the closest water source. it will feed your soul and fill your heart and if you are so inclined to bring grandmother cacao along on the trip, she’d be pretty happy to be a part of the fun, she is a traveling girl after all.