Spirit of Speculation

​Here's a few views of where we have been - one of the many bush places I call home. Lovely eh?...

I've just returned from a few days camped out bush.  It was slated as A Nature's Space to Be spring hike, but after last weeks wringer of the sore back I decided to cancel. Friends proposed a low-key base camp near Mt Speculation, a stunning mountain location just a easy 1km walk from the 4WD track access. Offers to carry the weighty items of my pack clinched the deal. Here's a few views of where we have been - one of the many bush places I call home. Lovely eh?

[Deep gratitude to Kev McGennan of First Light Wilderness Photography. His connection to nature shines through his beautiful photography.  If you want the real deal - check out Kev's amazing photography - prints, calendars etc. available: www.firstlightphotographs.com.au].

On arrival, the weather was stunning. Still and warm, soft afternoon sunlight on the snow gums greeted us as we walked up to camp in a grassy saddle with spectacular views.

We pottered about, lit the campfire and settled into my cathedral of a campspace. I sat in still, open eye witness as the sun approached and, sacred in its touch, merged with the mountaintop above us.  Millimetre by millimetre it dropped below the Mt Speculation summit horizon line. Though we were left in shadow, my heart and smile were shining, filled with the warmth of connecting with this everyday, yet powerful and spirit-full moment.
 
Speculation, to speculate. In between a good amount of swearing and frustration, the sore back wringer experience of the past three weeks has given me pause and opportunity to speculate on the meanings and causal factors of this sore back. A few days before our bush time I had one of my infrequent calm settled knowing moments. It was welcome, after the darker agitated aspects of sore back life. Unexpectedly, in the morning motions of unpacking the dishwasher, a calm clear peaceful truth knowing settled within me. 'You must talk. Your back isn't going away until you talk'. I knew the type of talking it was referring to. Sharing the experiences, truths and dilemmas that I tend to rationalise, let drop or explain away.  That evening, over a glass (or two!) of wine I settled into some storytelling with my husband.  It was a beautiful connection. This talking continued around the campfire.

Mountains and weather = powerful, change. We wake up the next morning to a misty, drizzly cloak covered everything. We were in the clouds and they were damp and obscured everything from view. Overnight, the expansive vista of deep valleys and contoured hills out to the horizon have condensed back to a grey-white, thick and visceral soup of cloud.

That morning, in foggy wet conditions, we wander to the sumit of 'Speculation'. It is beautiful. There is no views, but plenty of racing clouds, blustery wind and glimpses of landscape and changing weather. Atop of the summit I settle in to nature spirit practice. Pondering deeply the moss lichen patterns of dew wet rocks. I nestle my forehead into the earth in welcome, connection and reverence. I circumnavigate the summit, like contour lines on a map, my steady footsteps circle around and around. My curious eyes explore each micro world as I pass.

I finish back atop of the high point and face the blasting wind. Snug in my raincoat my open arms embrace the wind and I feel the life force of each gust pushing through me. I breath in deep, time and again and the bracing wind fills me up bright and clear. I wonder if this wind might help 'clean out the cobwebs'. I talk to the wind, continuing the conversations prompted by my 'deep knowing' moment by the dishwasher.  I breath out and imaginatively allow the wind to  take the tight and sore back muscles, the emotions that entwine, on its way ward journey.

Refreshed and renewed we descend the mountain and return to camp. We continue our explorations, comfortable silences and campfire conversations. The weather clears for a time and then cycles on, as it always does. Through the next evening the wind intensifies and rips and roars at the tent. The rain comes down but warm in my sleeping bag I stay dry and comfortable. Even in this intense mountain weather my small significant self feels right at home. Morning dawns wet and windy. We pack up camp. We give gratitude for the awe, strength and cycles of these special mountains. We sip from the mountain stream one last time and take a drop of renewal and refreshment home with us in our drink bottles.