NATURAL SPIRITUALITY?? February 12-14

WHAT IS IT?

 In early January, Marguerite sends me information about a conference on Natural Spirituality in Toccoa Georgia.  For $150 we could participate in workshops, sleep in a cabin, and have meals Friday night through Sunday lunch.  I love nature and take spiritual nourishment from the woods; plus Marguerite is a good travel buddy, so “Sure, I’ll go.”

First part of the adventure is learning that Natural Spirituality is not spirituality in the woods.  Whoops!   It is a method of establishing connection with the universal divine through dream “work” as described by Joyce Hudson and Karl Jung.  I am the only South East Regional Conference participant (out of perhaps 100) who is not in a dream group.  There are three groups in Athens associated with the two Episcopal churches.  Most of the conference participants are Episcopalians, which I am not.  But people are very friendly even when I tell them I am there under false pretenses.

 Our little cabin in the woods is close to a stream.  If it weren’t so very cold, we could open a window and hear the gurgles in our room.  

The path to the dining hall and meeting rooms is lined with moss, dried grasses and American Beech trees.

The trout lilies are blooming.  My first of the year.

The dining hall looks familiar.  I think I was here before.  When I see the seaweed salad at Friday’s dinner I know I was here before.  With Nina at a Meher Baba event.  And that’s about all I remember (the neon green seaweed).   Why can’t I remember anything else?

 Friday night’s talk focuses on the interconnectedness of all things, briefly outlining the latest reports on microtubules and vibrations involved in quantum mechanics.   I might get some of this.

At breakfast a young person named Lisa joins me and Marguerite.  I remember seeing her at the UUFA recently, where she reminded me I had taken a workshop with her years earlier.  Here, over oatmeal and scrambled eggs, she remembers another breakfast.  “I sat with you in England at a B and B.   It was 2004.   You were with some other women and had just come back from Italy.”  I must have been with Eleanor cause she and I went to Florence for a week, followed by a week in the Cotswolds with my sister Judy.  Why do I have no memory of having seen someone from Athens in England?!  That’s a pretty remarkable event.   My fourth concussion must have bumped off those neurons. 

Would I be a different person if I had more memories?

Saturday morning we do two meditations, balancing “nothingness” with “somethingness.”  At lunch a table-mate states, “I wish someone would do a Jungian analysis of the current political scene.”  Unfortunately I say out loud, “And what would that do for you?”

After lunch I select from six possible workshops the one titled “Ho’oponopono: A Hawaiian Process of Forgiveness and Reconciliation.”  I very much enjoy that presentation not just because Cindy studied in the Halawa Valley on Molokai where I had just been, but because it will help me work on a troublesome personality attribute I’m trying to reduce.   

 But my butt is getting sore from all this sitting and I crave the “Hardy Hike to the Falls” which begins at 3:20.  Fifteen of us walk across a meadow and begin the climb up. 

 The first third of this woodland hike is climbing high and fast over boulders so large that a sturdy rope is needed to pull ourselves up and up.  I am panting out loud.  Loudly.  The young woman in front of me asks whether I am okay.  Am I?  I’m not sure cause my right leg is wobbling; I crave standing still for a minute but everybody else is still moving up.  I am afraid to look up to see how much further there is of continued climbing.  Jeez, we’re only halfway to the  ridge. Have I ever been this winded and wobbly?  This is embarrassing.  There is no question of going back because the path is dangerous going down.  And then there’s my pride…

At the top of this nightmare hill, I stand for two minutes, barely stopping the noisy canine panting before we’re off again.  The mostly flat terrain helps me catch up because I walk swiftly and with authority, trying to leave that other stuff behind me. 

Our fearless leader is a foot smaller than I am, perhaps ten or 15 years younger, moves much faster, and wears a sweat shirt that says Honolulu Marathon.  Yikes!  I started way too late to emulate a mountain goat.

 We continue walking toward the falls with just slight ups and downs.  But then we approach a steep boulder-ridden path where a second sturdy rope is needed to descend safely. 

  This trail must double as a Ropes Course because when we get to the swift-moving stream half of us hold unto yet another rope to cross the slippery rocks. 

The other half walk across a fallen tree limb while grasping a higher limb.  Partridgeberry, dog hobble and rhododendron line the path.  

 Not far from all that tricky stuff I see the waterfall.  It’s quite pretty in a medium-sized way.  I am looking at Cedar Creek.  We stand around taking pictures, especially those who are couples because tomorrow is Valentine’s Day.

We go back across the creek, heading upward, but very gradually.  Because we’d be defying death to go back on that dreadful boulder-ridden trail I barely survived, we return on a different ridge.   Two of the youngest people and I are apparently the hungriest because we get back on the road first.  MapMyWalk on my i-Phone says:  three miles in two hours, using 732 calories.  I am starving.

Sunday morning “my” dream group meets for 90 minutes following guidelines such as using “I” language and avoiding cross-talk.  I do not usually remember my dreams, but I do have one to share when we go around the circle.  I dreamt it three times over 20 or 30 years:  I am living in the same house for many years but suddenly find a new room.   They enjoy discussing this happy dream.

I learn the basics of Natural Spirituality:  Natural Spirituality Basics

This is what I already make a part of my life:  I take full responsibility for my uncomfortable feelings, I believe that the Universe provides experiences and ideas that help me, and that an examined life allows me to gain in wisdom. 

Most of the people I interact with this weekend are enjoyable, kind and seemingly happy people.  “Are you having a good weekend?” many ask.   But I change the subject when they ask whether I will come back next year.