Creek and Cairn Therapy

I woke up this morning to the sound of the woods calling out to me as clearly as if someone were speaking directly into my ear.  “Hey Kid, come out and play!”   NEVER being one to just “pop” out of bed in the morning, I surprised myself as I jumped right up and answered, “I’m on my way”.  With a major ankle injury still putting the damper on hiking I am limited to a short walk and then sitting down.  Being the “Overgrown 10-Year-Old” that I am, that wasn’t really a big deal since I could think of a whole slew of semi-sedentary things to do in the woods.  Jake could tell right away that something was up when we didn’t go directly to the dog park for our daily morning visit and we didn’t even take up residence at my corner table at Starbucks.  Jake was practically raised in the woods and was just as excited as I was.  He wiggled impatiently on the front seat of my van as I acquired coffee, water and breakfast and when I came out he looked at me and said, "c'mon Mom, what took you so long?!" We took the beautiful Blue Ridge Parkway out to Bent Creek and driving down the road with the windows wide open and music blaring, I felt at home.  The cool and damp air wafted in and pressed down on my foot causing the car to speed up.  It wasn’t me doing the speeding, I swear it was the fresh air!  Certainly any cop would believe that!  Being a Tuesday morning there were only a few people out and about.  Even so, I bypassed the popular Rice Pinnacle, Hard Times and Ledford parking areas and headed out for the more secluded but still popular Explorer Trail…an old favorite.  Encountering a large muddy puddle on the walk in, I couldn’t resist the overwhelming temptation to step directly in the middle.  Crap!  I forgot to change into my Crocs.  Shrugging, I thought, “Oh well, there’s mud beckoning to be stepped and I can’t NOT, not do it and I am NOT going back to the car,” so step in it I did.  Stomp and splatter are probably more accurate terms actually.  My green Chuck Taylors became a deep chocolate brown color but not for long though as there was WATER nearby to play in! 

Just off the road but decently far off the beaten path along the winding and aptly named, Bent Creek, I found a spot that felt as if no one had ever been there before. I gently eased my fragile leg down the steep bank and into the water. YIKES!! It was cold but hopefully would do my swollen foot some good. I slowly made my way to a large dead tree lying in the creek. There was a smaller log leaning against the big one and because I wanted to soak my foot and the large log was too high off the water for that purpose, I opted instead for the small log as a place to sit. I sat down and felt an instantaneous connection. The obvious connection being wet and soggy log connected to once dry pants, but a deeper energetic connection happened as well just from plugging directly into the earth right there on that rotten log. I sat still and listened to the creek talk to me. I reveled in the life force of the creek and suddenly felt celestially supported…a very powerful and healing thing water is. The moment however, was short lived and with a loud crack of the small log and a huge splash I was almost completely submerged. I hoped no one saw that blunder. It appeared no one did. So now I'm drenched...ok, no biggie. It was a warm day. I reevaluated the large log and noticed a live rhododendron branch lying just on the surface of the water creating a seat of sorts with the large log as a backrest. Perfect. I sat down and resumed my foot-soaking commune with Mother Earth and took in the sounds. Birds were chirping. Bugs were buzzing. The creek sang as it rushed over rocks and it whistled countless stories of centuries past. It made another noise as well. A deep, hollow and guttural bass sound was happening as the water made its way over part of the log. I took in the smells too. Wet and musty, a slight decaying leafy odor mixed with a little galax and wildlife. Some call it skunky. I call it "olfactory paradise" and it brings me back to my first days at Outward Bound 20 years before. The entire Nature Choir complete with Smell section was truly meditative and I sat soaking my feet for 15 minutes before I got too antsy and had to move. Upon coming out of my reverie, I noticed that near the log was a beach of flood-strewn rocks. I LOVE rocks. I am not exactly sure what the draw is to a simple, boring old rock but at its very basic level, they are Nature's Blocks. Ancient toys. More than that though, they emit an inexplicable energy and just being in their presence makes me feel good. No doubt Charlie Brown, of Peanuts fame would have a different story to tell and would argue against anything rock related, but thankfully he’s not here. My Inner Child, who loves all things to build with, was absolutely giddy with pure joy at the sight of the rocks. I sat down and getting hands, knees and butt dirty, got busy playing Stone Jenga. Within minutes I had built a wobbly cairn. It fell. I built it again. It fell again. I couldn’t escape the blaring life-metaphor slamming me in the face as I calmly and happily rebuilt yet again…and again…and again after each fall. With each rock precariously placed, the challenge-investment increased exponentially and I was glued to the spot. I had found a funky-shaped rock that was just begging to be in this cairn. I couldn’t let it down. I balanced it right on the edge of another rock serving as a foundation and once it was stable enough I quickly stacked several more stones on top of it. It held steady and I was satisfied.

 

Over the course of the next several hours, I built 4 more cairns each one more elaborate and delicate than the last.  I had initially thought I would be done after the first one.  I had thought I would move onto something else like stick shelters or miniature rafts but the rocks kept shouting “pick me, pick me, I wanna play too!!!”   The rocks wanted to be a part of it.  The cairns themselves wanted to be built.  Each rock had just the perfect texture, size, shape and weight for what each cairn needed and wanted. The multitude of colors just added to the allure and my dedication to building.  Their energies simply wouldn't let me leave.  At some point during the afternoon, another thought occurred to me.  Cairns are built to guide others.  They stand as markers and trail signs and hold unspoken messages of well-being and safety.  Here I was building them just for myself, just for fun.  It was unlikely that anyone else would stumble across them and even if they did, they wouldn’t guide them anywhere other than directly into the creek.  Was there something else greater happening here?  Was there some spirit-being working through the building of cairns to guide me somewhere?  It’s possible that was the case, but where?  No idea...they didn't speak that loudly...or maybe the sound of the creek was too loud and it obscured my hearing.  "Yeah, that must've been it".  But there IS something undeniably magical and mystical and therapeutic about walking into a field of cairns, and so if someone did happen to stumble upon this place, no doubt my little cairns would speak to them like they did me.  Would someone else be guided somehow?   I imagine the cairns would likely appeal to their inner child[ren] and tell them that this playtime in nature is nurturing and that they should jump right in...literally.  It would encourage them to splash and play in the creek, get dirty building more cairns and make energetic connections with the Earth.  I heard this message loud and clear and for the duration of the afternoon, my Inner Child played out its little heart’s content.