Artists. Scientists. Story tellers. Sharers of knowledge and talents and cultures and appreciation. Lovers of the earth and of learning and sharing. Connected.
When I was young- this is how I thought my life would be. How it would feel. I thought my life would have this little bit of a hippie/ communal vibe. But of course, kids and work and bills and life filled my days…and I forgot who I meant to be. Except this one week out of the year. This week I always remember.
When I come here I teach children about the marsh and the forest and the creek. The fish and the frogs and the fossils and the turtles and the trees and the dirt and the insects. About painting and perspective and drawing and creating.
About tracks and how we all leave a mark on the people and places around us.
400 children playing and sharing and learning and creating in the backyard of some of the most amazing people I know. Run by some of the most truly amazing people I know. Sincere. Giving. Connecting.
Seeing people I usually only see here. Hugging. Reconnecting. A quick touch of lives intersecting.
It is magic here. Pure magic.
I swear that when I come here my body can do things it cannot do anywhere else. I can walk farther and climb higher here.
Magic.
I breathe differently here.
My sons and my best friend and her son helped me this year. Even better. My older son shared his passion and love of rocks and fossils. The earth and its history and treasures. Watching the children running to him for answers and explanations. Watching him in action. Sharing years of knowledge (years few in number but oh so full) in a way the kids could understand. Such patience. Such a teacher he is. Maybe that will be his calling. I’m sure in some way it will. Teaching. Explaining. Maybe writing. Telling the stories of the earth. I am proud.
My younger son and I were together all day Friday. The best moments for me. Important moments. We were able to spend some extra time with two little boys who became our friends. Shared our food. I bought some things at the auction that will make a bit of a holy place in my house. Some Native American things. A stone candle holder. Sage. Treasures to keep. To touch. To remind me.
We were watching our favorite story teller (it makes me happy knowing he lives in the world) leading the children as they chant and sing. My America. This land is your land, this land is my land. Children. Our beautiful and powerful future. Being equipped. Empowered. Taught love, not hate.
In a quiet moment as we sat off to the side in the grass, Son said to me that when I sit on the ground in the woods with my walking stick (oh you would love my walking stick) that I look like an old woman dispensing wisdom to the children. Maybe like Rafiki. .I whispered that I have a confession. Confiding in my son. Baring my soul to him. (Knowing I am safe with him- because he is so like me.) “I want to be that person”. (Yes I said it out loud). And (big silly confession)…. “I think that woman lives inside me.” (I need to let her out more.)
And he- my son- said magic words. Maybe life changing worlds.
YOU ARE THAT PERSON.
Did you hear that?? He believes I am that person. I cried. If he knows- then maybe it is true.
From there we watched the show. And the recap video. Memories of the week. So many beautiful smiling faces. So different and so alike.
Afterwards, the only person left was Bob. This is Bob’s and Joan’s property. Bob’s and Joan’s vision. We told him thank you. We told him it was magic. And he rambled a bit (I love listening to Bob ramble) about his inspiration. All of us coming together. Experts in many fields. Not separate – but combining what we know. No one more or less than another. Community. Flow. He called it flow. Energy.
Maybe so. But I still call it magic.
We went to clean our tent. Hard work. Physically such a hard week. There was a party, but son and I felt like we were in a bubble. Not wanting to lose this feeling. So we worked quietly. Then drove away.
And then. In this valley surrounded by meadows and woods we turned a corner. Son gasped. I stopped the car.
I cannot adequately describe the sight. More lightning bugs than I have ever seen. Honestly. He walked to the field. He was watching lightning bugs. I was watching my son in a field of light. My view was better because of him. Then he turned and gasped again. Behind us the woods were lit up. Like Christmas trees. More than that. Top to bottom. Nearly every branch. Lit up. Millions of lightning bugs. Seeing us off. Sending us off with more magic. A reminder. It was real. Take it with you.
We stood. Arms around each other’s waists. His head on my shoulder. My head on his.
I gave this poor child all of my bad qualities. My anxiety. I fear maybe my depression. My disorganized nature.
But at this moment I realized that He also got my sense of wonder. Of magic. (Oh thank goodness I gave him something good!) He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t know how we could leave this moment. This place and time that was more than anything else could have been. How could we drive away??
We shared magic in such a real way.
I won’t ever forget. He’s young enough that maybe he will forget. But I don’t think so. And I know now that it is inside him. I know he will be ok.
And I know I will be ok.
Because we both are able to see magic in simple things.
Quiet Happy Wonder 