I circled the parking lot briefly this morning, curious about what those trucks parked in the north part of the parking lot knew. Perhaps the drivers of those pick-ups had discovered something that still sat separate from me, so I looked and found nothing and returned to my normal spot.
I saw a man coming rather quickly from near one of the pick-ups, calling out.
He sounded angry so I worried briefly he was talking that way to me. My eyes caught the black and white fur coat of a dog. “Oh, that explains it,” I said to myself as I got out of my car and reached back for my chair and backpack so my virtual pilgrimage would begin as seamlessly in person as it had in my head.
I looked up and saw the dog loping toward me and the man, growling at the dog – and perhaps me – and nearly tackle the dog, who once held onto like that started growling, snarling and fighting back a bit. My heart reached toward my throat as I saw the thick collar, the strong chains and watched as the angry yelling man got even angrier at the dog.
I was so present to the dog and the fear and the way my throat felt as the heated flames from my pounding heart tickled my vocal chords that I said aloud, calmly yet aloud, “Pit bulls off leash in public places are bound to make people scared.”
This appeared to make him madder as he got up off the ground from his wrestling match. He growled louder than the dog and started to walk away. Still stunned, I said, “Take care” to which he responded sarcastically, “have a nice day!” and yelled at his dog again, jerking the harness.
I stood, head down, unmoving, for what felt like a very long time but probably wasn’t.
I willed my feet to move toward the place I had come here for, even though shaken, even though afraid, even though I now felt a risk I had never even considered until that very moment before this moment.
“Ritual,” I reminded myself from the prompt from Jennie Benjamin’s Virtual Pilgrimage group.
Alisa Barry, the guest writer suggested in our reading of the day, “Use Ritual as an invitation or invocation to start your day or help you get through the day in a more thoughtful way.”
“Breathe,” I told myself, “One foot up, one foot down.”
I walked into the Preserve and allowed it to nurture me.
First I let the scowling of the dog incident to settle into my own face. “So dry, no moisture, I can’t write in the sand like I wanted and oh, no. It will be so hot so soon this isn’t worth it I don’t see how I” foot up foot down breath shallow foot up foot down breath still shadow and stop.
Footprints. An assemblage of footprints. Mine, a horse’s, a dog’s and was it a bird?
Foot up, breath, slower and more centered, foot down, foot up foot down.
Something tiny moved.
What I would have called a tree frog hopped away from me, perfectly blended with the decaying leaves. My heart hopped with it as my eyes followed.
Foot up foot down, another tree frog, so tiny!
Footprints.
Frog foot prints, perhaps, made those scratches in the sandy dirt rather than a bird?
The fear from the dog and the gnarling man left as I ventured deeper into my pilgrimage into wonder and curiosity.
Foot up and down, this path or that stop pause take a photo take this fork in the path foot up and look at that plant with a flower trying to be born and there, feel it against my face, so soft. Perfect.
I saw quail playing along the path I walked, I saw lizards, chubby lizards, chasing each other, playing together or perhaps engaging in an unknown to me procreative ritual. I had never seen such chubby lizards and until this morning had specialized in lone lizard sightings.
I saw a leaf covered path to the river. I set up my chair and sat and wrote and live streamed and allowed myself to process. I watched a lone leaf, a tenacious leaf from last year holding onto its space on the branch. Spider webs, so many spider webs. I remembered reading an essay this weekend by Janet Fitch when she wrote, "We crave the richness of the world, its smells and textures and unedited sounds."
I sat back in my camp chair, let myself sink more deeply into it. I took out my notebook and wrote.
The longer I stayed the louder the bird song got and the deeper in the distance the car sounds became. A bird I didn’t recognize came to inspect me. He moved his head sideways to get a peek at this curious character, scratching away at a white sheet of paper in a notebook.
The Mom in me realized time was moving and I needed to join it so I would take “the shorter path” back to the parking lot. I’m not sure what it was exactly but I felt uneasy walking back. I was disgusted by the dry chaparral again, not allowing the precious bird song and sweetness of the leaves and the quail and the frogs to nurture me.
Positive ritual died (momentarily).
Chapparal ugly, plain, devoid of color and pop.
And pop went my eyes. From the every-nook-and-cranny beige came a tiny spot of purple, asking to be witnessed. I reached to it, amazed this one tiny speck of purple somehow survived. My eyes moved to see another amazing speck and another and yet another until I realized the miracle wasn’t in the purple flowers, it was in my eyes finally registering, “purple flower, yes, miracle and no, not out of the ordinary here on the chaparral at all.”
My senses came alive, my heart awakened. I allowed myself to fully feel into the fear of the dog-and-owner incident.
I stayed present to my task as a pilgrim.
Passionate presence. Documentation. Awakening creativity each day makes life so much better.
= = =
Join us for the #5for5BrainDump Challenge! An incredible time of connection, community and rich content.
The main place to network and get support is thePeriWriters Facebook Group, but you may also simply use the Hashtag #5for5BrainDump and find us across social media platforms.
Please stay in touch: Follow me on Twitter: and on Periscope for writing prompt, tips and inspiration daily created to ignite your artistic rebirth.
Be sure to "Like" WritingCampwithJJS on Facebook. (Thank you!)
Follow on Instagram And naturally, on Pinterest, too! © 2015/2016
Julie Jordan Scott inspires people to experience artistic rebirth via her programs, playshops, books, performances and simply being herself out in the world. She is a writer, creative life coach, speaker, performance poet, Mommy-extraordinaire and mixed-media artist whose Writing Camps and Writing Playgrounds permanently transform people's creative lives. Watch for the announcement of new programs coming in early Summer and beyond.
To contact Julie to schedule a Writing or Creative Life Coaching Session, call or text her at 661.444.2735
Check out the links above to follow her on a bunch of different social media channels, especially if you find the idea of a Word-Love Party bus particularly enticing.
Recent Comments