I am still at home, finishing my sabbatical projects.Tango is snoozing on the cool tiles lining the fireplace hearth.  I am happy with my work progress: a new church website, which is still in the beta stage (www.uccww.com), a confirmation curriculum, a heritage cookbook, and some personal stuff. I finish the cookbook TODAY and after a few reviewers take a peak, it goes to press. The confirmation curriculum is taking forever…so many details to fill in for each lesson (supplies, opening and closing ideas, and more). I have some personal writing burning into my soul so that gives me extra motivation to get the work projects off my plate by next week, when I “return.”

Reentry into regular life is not so easy, however. I loved having only tent walls and zipper windows between me and the outdoors. My senses were always alive to the animals, plants, the wind, and the sun’s daily movement.I woke up and fell asleep looking out the screen windows and listening for coyotes.  I knew the moon phase without checking my Kindle. Drinking coffee outdoors on my recliner, I could jump up with my mug and take  a long morning walk with Tango, while still wearing jammies. At night, I would lie on the recliner and stare at the sky.

The solid walls of my lovely home separate me from nature. Last night I sat out for some time watching stars. Without a garden, however, I don’t feel the impulse to move around outdoors during the day,not as readily anyway. I have a huge yard between the house and the Church that is shaded with mature trees. I think about setting up out there this morning, then the little voice says, “Oh those lawn sprinklers will drench my chair later”, or “Oh the neighbors will see me in my jammies”. But I know those are excuses. I will set up there a bit later (fully dressed) and just get over my own objections.

     I am understanding again the vital importance of being outdoors. Sensory interaction with the wind, the sunlight and the rest of the natural world softens the stresses of modern life. Even more important, time away from the trappings of life help us to get some perspective on over-consumption. I enjoyed living on less (okay, I know the shoe thing seemed excessive but I wore all but one pair).  I had time to reflect once again on the ineffectiveness of our government–a process fueled in part by John Mayer’s song “Waiting for the World to Change”. I could feel the possibilities for healing the people and the planet, however hopeless it seems today.

For the first time, I felt compassion for obnoxious kids. I watched one young teen run around Ayers Natural Bridge, a small, enclosed canyon where sound echoes. The teen was loud. “Mom, watch!” Splat. “Mom, look here!”  or Ashley, where did you go?” and  ” Hey, look what I found. Then again, “Mom, watch,” Splat. Once the teen ran through my campsite, asking me “Where did they go?” At one time this noise would have annoyed me. That day, I  saw him with compassion, deciding that he rarely gets outdoors. I think he felt the mighty pull of nature’s spirit and had no clue how to react in an unfamiliar setting. I vaguely remember someone naming the reaction to nature by uninitiated youth. It is often aggressive, destructive. But later, at home, those forces he felt will seep into his heart.

When I left July 14, I intentionally left without any spiritual or personal goals. I wanted to simply be outdoors without an agenda (other than work stuff) and let the outdoors work on me. In the end, I was renewed, rested and with a much lighter heart. I became less egocentric and more compassionate I cannot say exactly how that works, only that it does and requires nothing more than going out. In my reading I have come across terms like “re-naturing” to describe learning how to live more closely with the natural world. The term sounds so much like nurturing. No need to wait for retirement or near retirement for the nurturing to begin.