A few weeks ago, six of us broke away from the routine and chaos of our daily lives to congregate in the Oregon Cascades at Clear Lake, headwaters of the Mckenzie River. Our contributions to the camp included fresh caught salmon and venison, industrial strength two-burner stove complete with kitchen, and an assortment of vegetables, grains, and eggs. Oh, yes, less I forget, a bottle of homemade mead wine and a few strains of cannabis.
Shelter included an assortment of tents as well as one hammock. Most of us being over 60, thickness of sleeping pads were a priority. Much our time focused around preparing and consuming meals. Evenings involved slow conversation around the fire, our vulnerability reflected around topics of broken relationships, health issues, and gratitude for the privilege that we could be here enjoying the weekend.
The escape from the digital world, "no service", allowed for more internal reflection as deeper recesses of our brain seemed to come back to life. So here we were, no agenda, just appreciating the land, kayaking, hiking, and just hanging out. As the weekend ended, we vowed to gather again, allowing ourselves to be nourished. As we parted, we hugged, sensed some anxiety for returning to our daily routine, yet infused with gratitude, a resource we can always draw upon.