The Magic

July 8, 2008

Dear Diary,

So here we are following behind our guide. She in her older model car and we are on our bikes. We are traveling about 30 or 40 MPH and following a road that hugs the lake shore.

It is all so emotional for me, Diary.

It is so beautiful here and that beauty is so much a part of my very fiber. And, Diary, it isn't just the visual beauty that influenced me, it is so much more. It's the energy from the lake; so very peaceful yet intensely peaceful. It is the air; crisp, clean, calming.
It is the profound lack of annoying noise but the ever present calming sound of nature. The constant, melodious harmonizing of the leaves rustling, the birds calling, the waves splashing and the feel of the northern sun on my cool skin. It is the open spaces, the vast forests, the feeling of being close to the earth and away from un-necessary and frivolous expectations or life styles.

This is me, this is who I am... this is where I function best. But it is a lifetime away from where and how I live now, in New Jersey.

I traveled here, to Duluth, to celebrate life. To be thankful for every day I get past my fiftieth birthday because my sister Sally didn't get that privilege. Being here now, traveling toward the "Spirit Little Cedar" tree, traveling down this vaguely familiar road, my mind becomes flooded with memories of my Dad.

Memories like our boat trips, of his voice and his trust in my boat skills. It just seems so sad and so wonderful all at the same time. I want to go back to that experience so desperately that my hearts aches. Yet, I am so thankful to be here in this moment as an adult that my heart aches even more! The experience of connecting the past to the present finds me yet again in this moment and it feels almost surreal.

I look to my right and I see the small dock where we used to tie up. I remember the other family we traveled with, the luscious taste of fresh fish cooked on a small Coleman stove. I even recall the feel of my sweaters on my skin, keeping me warm against the cool lake breezes. I can recall the smell of the boat engine and the bilge water, hear the creaking of the hull and the squeak of the fenders between the boat and the dock.

All of a sudden we are there. We pull off the road into a small gravel parking area and the bike engines are silenced.
My heart is beating quickly and I am so focused that I could have been drenched in a 'Flash' and never even notice. Probably was.

At this point our guide, Terri,

tells us about the fact no-one is allowed to come here any more outside of tribal members and how it is one of her most favorite places to come to when she needs to be peaceful and centered.

As she leads us off the gravel and onto the path into the woods, we just all get very quiet. We begin to speak in hushed tones. The very air has a different feel. The quiet of the forest is like a presence and we instinctively respect it and respond by becoming quiet too. Not just by not speaking, but we all seem to quiet our inner voice as well and we follow Terri making few comments and if speaking, speaking with reverence.

Terri stops in front of this sign and, as we read it, we become more in sync with the prevailing atmosphere.

As we walk on we just stop talking altogether and just soak in the the moment. We wind our way through the woods and when we get to the side of the hill we step onto a wooden stairway that takes us down, past moss covered rocks and trees.

We end up at the bottom of the stairway
and off in the distance is the The Tree.




It is at this point that I can not help but choke up. It just reminds me so much of my Dad.

We didn't have a terribly close relationship. That is not what this is about...mourning something that was really deep and precious. I just loved him. He was intense and strong and I know that he loved me. Though we didn't share intimate details of our lives on a daily basis, he is my Dad. He taught me so much about life. Taught me how to survive it. How to enjoy it. And in the end, how to leave it. What more can a daughter ask for?

In the 10 minutes we were there with the tree, I was able to reconnect a bit more with my past. The tree welcomed the four of us as travelers but in a sense re-welcomed me as a friend. A friend who had also known my fathers touch, my fathers appreciation. A friend who had stood with my Dad, exchanging spiritual energy. Every one else was new to the tree. I had a history with it. Though I had never seen it before this day it knows me through my Father. I know it knows me. I can FEEL it knowing me and it is comforting. It connects me to my Dad and that feels very nice.

We made an offering of tobacco to the four corners of the earth. We kept a short silence but I was so filled with gratitude I couldn't even pray...I just kept feeling grateful. ( I vaguely remember asking for safe passage and guidance ) What a wonderful place. What an exquisite moment in time.

We wound our way back up the stairs and through the woods. Every one even more quiet than when we had gone in. Walking out together, yet one by one. How profound. How beautiful and simple.

You can't see him, but I know my Dad is there walking with me.


Scarlett, Bev Twitter and I...all in the same place physically, but all lost in our own thoughts.
I don't suppose we will ever forget that day. I think that day something deep down inside of Scarlett decided her life was never going to be just average or boring again. I know I decided that that day. It truly was rather magical.
Twitter, Scarlett, Tink, Bev....and of course, The Tree
Thanks "Spirit Little Cedar" for your comfort, for your presence in this world, for your example.

Diary, Say a prayer. We are on our way to Marathon Canada and the weather is not looking good.

Tink