“Though Thoreau considered himself an able woodsman, [Joe] Polis had much to impart to him, such as finding one’s way by ‘indications of where the sun shines on trees and rocks, [and by the] location of mountains’.”
–David B. Raymond, “The Influence of Penobscot Woodcraft on Henry David Thoreau,” Maine History 56, No. 1 (Summer, 2023)
Ever since I was a little girl, I loved to study maps. I could barely put my hands around the colorful world globe that sat on my small desk, opening my imagination to places unknown. My sphere of the earth was affixed to a stand so I could spin the world around to the delight of my adventurous spirit. Round and round it spun and when it would stop I would wonder, “Would I ever go there someday?”
On family vacations to the northwoods of Wisconsin from Chicago, I would sit next to my Dad as he drove our wood-paneled station wagon north, and I would call out the names of the towns once we crossed the Illinois border into Wisconsin. I was so excited to be going north! The first time I shouted, “Beliot!”, my Dad laughed and corrected me. “It is pronounced Beloit.” But every summer driving north, we’d always call it Beliot. It became a standing, family joke.
I love maps because they show me the way. Even now, with GPS and Google Maps, I embrace the visual compass of the terrain. The clarity of the passageway ahead grounds me to the approaching landscape, whether on land or on water.
I recently had an “off the map” experience. I was in Asheville, North Carolina, participating in a 4-day, 10-mile a day hiking/walking trip with Everwalk. The famed long-distance swimmer Diana Nyad and her personal trainer, Bonnie Stoll, founded this non-profit to get people out walking. They have ambassadors all over the United States and have done these epic walking trips since 2016.
I saw this trip as a step in a new direction for me. Perhaps the creation of a new map for myself I diligently followed their 2-month training program, and felt physically ready. This daily discipline also prepared me emotionally and spiritually. It was an opportunity to test myself for the distances and also gave me a chance to meet Diana and Bonnie, two very inspirational women, the story of Diana’s epic swim from Cuba to Florida, captured in the 2023 film, NYAD.
Unfortunately, on day three, my “step in a new direction” took an unexpected turn. I stepped awkwardly on uneven pavement and was on the ground before I knew what happened. It was a trauma as the pain in my foot reverberated throughout my body. A trip to urgent care revealed a fractured bone in my left foot. With crutches and my new stylish boot, I was definitely in a “new direction”. I spent the rest of the trip in my hotel room – icing, elevating and resting my poor purple foot. Thinking what is this all about?
As I always do, I try to find meaning in every experience. I check to see what an injury to my left foot means, finding that my left side represents my spiritual path. A break on this side is a major sign from the universe. Ironically, I brought a book titled, Trusting Change with me on this trip, and the essay I read that evening started, “Life is continually trying to move you off balance.” No kidding!
So fast forward to now, almost 4 weeks later. My physical healing is progressing well and thankfully I no longer need the crutches. The boot is still with me. My emotional and spiritual “break”, however, is a different story. I have no idea what this sign from the universe is supposed to be. All I know is that I felt I was flowing beautifully on all levels ahead of the trip. Now my best response when people ask how I feel is “disrupted.” It’s as though my flow took me right over a waterfall and I am now swirling in the eddy below. My “new direction” has cascaded me into an unpredictable circular swirl. Can you see my head barely above water in the blue circle?
The challenge now is to find my way to a new calm and peaceful flow. In Trusting Change, Karen Hering writes, “As the Buddhist teaching puts it, just when you think you know where you’re headed, the universe will roll boulders into your path [or uneven pavement]. Walking around them will either confirm your commitment to the path you are on or open your awareness to a new path you might otherwise never have found. Neither will be possible if you just stand there cursing the rocks.” My foot and I are now on a major healing journey, searching for new awareness.
So on my new path I start by scouting out cairns to guide the way. Cairns are a human made stack of stones and one purpose is to guide hikers by marking the trail or a turn in the trail. Cairns teach us a lot about balance. Very poignant for me as I try to re-align myself, not only with my new walking apparatus, but also in the spiritual swirl of the churning eddy. Even the cairn in this picture is surrounded by other rocks, dried leaves and twisting, snarly tree roots.
This cairn indicates there is a way. The direction, however, is unclear. As Hering continues, “How do you recognize home when you are not the same as when you left? When you’ve grown or adapted or experienced changes in your understanding or identity so that what was once home no longer fits the way it did before?”
Where, I ask myself, is “home” now? Not my physical home, but my emotional home. What threshold am I crossing? What is the new direction for my spirit and my heart? How to find the way?
The Polynesians used the skill of “wayfinding” for thousands of years, navigating the open waters of the Pacific Ocean, island hopping within the Polynesian Triangle. They used only nature’s wayfinding ques – navigation by the stars, and observations of birds, ocean swells and wind patterns.
In this essay’s opening quote, Joe Polis, Thoreau’s Penobscot Indian guide on his last sojourn to the Maine woods in 1857, shares his greater understanding and a spiritual aspect of the Penobscot relationship with the land…by “finding one’s way by indications of where the sun shines on trees and rocks, [and by the] location of mountains.”
So it appears, as always for me, the answers lie in nature. No GPS or Google Map needed. By silently observing how nature easily moves herself across many thresholds during any given day, I gain a deeper understanding of how to navigate my own course, get myself out of the churning, foaming eddy to a much needed gentle flow. Back on peaceful waters. Where the way will open. The answers will come. For now, with the stability of solitude and stillness as my companions in my quest to regain my equilibrium, I am living into the questions. And always with me, my little red kayak. It all comes right on the water!
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Name a time you have been “knocked off balance” and what did you do to regain your equilibrium?
How did you use your time crossing the threshold to gain clarity about the way forward?
What new direction opened for you?
So sorry to learn about your mishap. Your body will, in time, heal itself. You will find your way through the next phase of the healing with all of the “tools” that have inspired and directed you ever since you took your seat in your little red kayak..be patient with the process. Hugs. Marge
How sorry I am to learn of your painful fall back in the spring. Please know that you are in my best thoughts. Hopefully, you are feeling better and better each day, as you go through your healing journey.
Lu