Sleeping in the Forest


This week I’m in the wilds of southern Ontario. I’m paddling in my canoe with my sweetheart and our puppy. I’ve included a few photos of canoe trips from years past and a beautiful poem by Mary Oliver. Oh, Mary Oliver, thank you again and again and again for illuminating the feeling of connection with the wilderness through words.


Sleeping in the Forest
by Mary Oliver

I thought the earth remembered me,
she took me back so tenderly,
arranging her dark skirts, her pockets
full of lichens and seeds.
I slept as never before, a stone on the river bed,
nothing between me and the white fire of the stars
but my thoughts, and they flowed light as moths
among the branches of the perfect trees.
All night I heard the small kingdoms
breathing around me, the insects,
and the birds who do their work in the darkness.
All night I rose and fell, as if in water,
grappling with a luminous doom. By morning
I had vanished at least a dozen times
into something better.


My wish for you is that you find a wild place in nature where you can linger for a week or all day long or a few hours or even just a moment. Linger there and let yourself be changed.

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