Over the river and through the woods…
You know that song?
It’s all about the excitement of going.
Personally, I’d be more inclined to sing a song about the joys of leaving the shindig and coming back home to myself.
You know the feeling, worn out from food and small talk and sat on by all the elephants in the room?
So then, how do you regain your Self, get grounded, and regulate your nervous system after all that “fun”?
Here’s how I do it.
Before I go into the house, I stand still and pause.
I notice the curl of the rhododendron leaves — darkest green and curled tight means it’s gettin’ cold, so I’ll remember to carry some firewood in.
The wind blows my hair off my shoulders, and I close my eyes to greet this unseen friend.
I walk to the fire circle out by the apothecary and lay hands on the big Black Gum tree, hear what she has to say.
She says the crows were by, and the sun moved across her crown, lower than yesterday, and that her roots are warm.
It takes a long time to hear her, but it’s worth it to slow down and listen.
I eventually go up the stairs and into the house, cold from a day without a fire.
I wrap up in a warm shawl and get a fire going in the woodstove, smiling when I think how cute the house must look with the little chimney puffing away.
Then I fill the steam pot with water and dried Lavender, gifted to me throughout the summer by garden-growing women. I dry it to enjoy all winter long as it simmers on top of the wood stove.
I make a pot of seed tea to help me digest both the meal and the experience — cardamom, cumin, coriander, clove — and set it on top of the woodstove too.
It will soothe my digestive and lymphatic systems well after all the feasting. And the scent along with the Lavender is lovely.
After awhile I’ll go outside just to have the pleasure of coming back in to smell it all.
The top of the stove stews and brews — better than head or heart.
Then I sweep the floor, further tidying up my head and my heart.
Once the fire has warmed the room and the tea has roiled awhile, I pour a cup and prop up my feet, settling in for a good long stare.
I stare at the fire.
I stare at the waning light and the dark outlines of trees.
I stare at nothing at all.
And slowly, I come back to myself.
I recharge.
Over the river and through the woods … and back to myself again.
This is the beauty of deep Self Knowing and being friends with yourself.
It’s an intimacy like no other, and also a sovereignty, a reassurance.
It’s the beauty of a magical life, companioned by elements, nature, and the divine, tended and cultivated like any relationship.
May you feel at home with yourself and have the great good luck of welcoming yourself back over and over again.
love and being home,
xo
kv
