There is certainly a freshness sparking my willingness to march outside into the wilderness when spring arrives. Up until this week, our hyacinths remained hidden and a few brave birds ventured a song.
What is it about living in New England that makes us almost dizzy upon those first warm days? Edith Wharton wrote about this sensation in Ethan Frome, describing how New Englanders run out of the stable like a stallion. Yeah, it’s really like this. I recall students instantly connecting to the sensation of winter isolation when we drudged onward rooting for Ethan to just do something already.
Instead of the stable, I have the house, and instead of being a novelist, I write these observations about the world and our journeys as humans. Writing about experiences helps people connect, and when exploring a world outside of teaching, yet still in the realm of education, the connections grow when you share that journey.
Sunday, March 16th, marked my first Holistic Fair as a Forest Therapist and Channel Writer. I can hardly capture the serendipitous connections discovered from fellow participants and attendees. To say these words aloud offers me a sense of confidence for what was once a new project/dream is taking a foothold in reality.
I met so many amazing people who were all there for one reason, to see what this world has to offer them. While I sat there, wondering how it would go, what to say, and what I was actually doing, I found the conversations flowed effortlessly, one leading to the next.
Every person I met connected to someone or something in my life: the railroad enthusiast who talked about Maine; an artist whose son communicates with trees; a practitioner on her second career; a former dairy farmer who loves nature and so many more.
There were those who wanted to see aspects of healthy and clean living, others were into energy work, some into singing bowls, others into movement and creative products; nevertheless, we all were there because of the greater belief that healing and feeling good are possible and in our hands.
It is where the forest takes root in my spirit. This sacred space provided healing to me in a vulnerable time, probably the most vulnerable in my life. When I landed back home after leaving my career, questions and uncertainty suffocated the days and nights, yet the trees and all of nature remained within my mind and spirit as I’ve written about before.
The idea that I have the environment to bring this sensation to others on their own healing journeys catapulted me into something so different and profound, and there is no time to waste questioning it. Like the arrival of spring, it is here now in my life, the opportunity to serve again in a whole new way; instead of a classroom, I have the land.
Just the last few days, we rediscovered areas explored years ago and found three amazing white pines (going out tomorrow to measure), clearly within competition to the old stands in Cornwall. Phenomenal how they are untouched and unbothered. Amazing how we reconnected with them and magnificent oaks and hickories right before opening for our first season! Coincidence? I think not! I wasn’t even thinking of heading into this area with clients, and now, who knows!
People and opportunities showing up really proves how the universe helps us find a way, despite how long it takes and how painful that time can be.
Moments of doubt replaced by certainty and optimism now mark my days. Dreams of how to use my channel writing in service to those who feel the same disconnect I did propels me to believe in this, though I have no guarantee from anyone or anything. My ten years of college did not guarantee I would stay in education forever, either, and if I knew then what would happen, would I stop? No! It was all part of the path. My 19 years of public service provided the skills I use every single day; no regrets, ever.
The truth is, no one has a 100% hold on anything, but the key is to try and listen to your heart space, even if it is scary. I knew only what was true in me: helping people helps me. Teaching allowed me to help others and leaving that left an emptiness. Now, the help has returned with a full cup, one I never plan to empty for it will be my life’s work.
Finally, while sharing with one of the last attendees from Sunday, we discussed where we find ourselves now. Using retirement to describe where she is after leaving a toxic environment fails to capture the full truth, since there is so much left to give, she said. “I’m not retired, I’m just not there,” she laughed.
I nodded and agreed I felt the same. “I’m retired from teaching, but I’m here. I’m a Forest Therapist and Channel Writer,” I said, and we laughed. “There,” she smiled, “you said it and so that’s who you are.”
“Yes,” I smiled back at her, “that’s who I am”.
Blessings,
Shennen
