24 August 2009

So I went to Kriket's Shamanic Retreat at Elk Island Park this weekend. The event was well attended. Most people I knew, some I met, and with everyone had a good time (though the Elves are The Best - and I realize you're only going to get that reference if you were actually there).

I'm not going to talk about what actually went on there, other than to say that there was journeying, some new stuff to learn, and a rather profound ritual around the fire on Saturday night. I don't think anyone who was there is going to forget it.

I'm sure there will be enough pictures floating around in cyberspace because I did see a few cameras in our group. And I do wonder what the tourist who came along the hiking trail and started snapping shots of us was thinking (look, Herr Stein, at the strange rites I saw the barbarian Canadians performing deep in the woods, all standing on one leg and chanting in time to a drum!)

But...it is not my intent to discuss the particulars of the Retreat. Suffice to say, if you're at all interested in following a Shamanic path, you may want to consider attending next year's retreat. And I do want to say a big "THANK YOU!" to Kriket for organizing and running the event, and to everyone else who was there and made things run so smoothly.

I found it oddly appropriate that the topic of this year's retreat was Spirits of Nature, especially in light of the weather. Friday night's blow was expected. All the radio stations were trumpeting the arrival of this violent weather system. Even the warden at the gate to the Park advised us of possible extreme weather. I thought I was ready for it. My tent was mostly ready, I guess. It didn't actually fall down around my ears, however, I now know what a bean in a tin can feels like, if the tin can were made of tarps. I can say without hesitation that my tent was the loudest structure on site. I actually felt the need to apologise to my neighbour for the flappity flappity all night long. At any rate, we all survived and Saturday was an absolutely gorgeous day - warm with just enough wind to keep the critters from munching us.

Well, except during the one exercise in which we instructed to go out into the woods, find a spot to sit and just "be" for an hour. This sounds like a hard thing to do - it actually isn't if you approach it with the right frame of mind.

The spot I picked was an area with long grass beside a row of shrubby trees. I started the exercise lying on my side with my head on the ground but after about fifteen minutes had to change position. I watched a grasshopper eat a blade of grass (they start in the middle, bite a long piece off, hold it in their little front "hands" and then proceed to eat the entire piece bite by tiny bite - in case you were curious). As a data point, grasshoppers also try to eat people (not very successfully because their mouthparts are made for grass and not flesh), provided the people are sitting unmoving in the forest as a part of a shamanic exercise.

After about the halfway point of the exercise I noticed red dots moving along the grass stalks. Bigger than a spider mite (but not much bigger), it didn't take long for me to realize the red dots had eight legs. Then I noticed two or three other red dots where I'd previously lain my head. They looked like spiders but didn't behave at all like spiders normally do (weave webs, try to eat other spiders). Then I looked reeaallly close at one of the dots and realized that even though it had eight legs, they were the curvy kind of legs with little white claws on the end that I've only ever seen on critters attached to Fred's shaggy mane after outings in BC or Ontario.

And then I saw the pattern to their movement. Slowly (one could say "inexorably") they were moving toward me, going from one blade of grass, to the next. Where each blade crossed another, they would always pick the one that led closer to where I was sitting. I swear to you I'm not making this up. It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do - sit completely still and watch as something (albeit a very tiny something) approached with the intention of making me its lunch.

And this is where I leared a valuable lesson. There is a line that must not be crossed. It's all well and good to immerse yourself in your studies but when your own personal well being is at stake, it is all right to take care of yourself. Nature takes care of its own and so should we. So I (silently so I wouldn't disturb the others in the group) flicked those little red dots as far back into the woods as I could, as well as the grass spider that had taken up residence on my foot.

And the other lesson I learned was this: we take having fresh water for granted. I realize this is almost a cliche because it's been bandied about in the media for so long but it is the truth.

I arrived at the retreat with eight liters of spring water I had to purchase at Superstore because, due to some logistical packing decisions on the last camping trip (ie. too much stuff, not enough vehicle volume) my usual five gallon water jug ended up on an acreage west of Busby.

The UN says the rule of thumb for humans is that we should all have access to 10 litres of clean water, per day, in order to meet basic needs such as drinking, cooking, and washing up. I had less than half that. Which means I had to get creative.

There is a lake adjacent to the campsite. The water in the lake is quite low, the bank is muddy and churned up from buffalo, moose, etc. who go down to drink the water. The only way to get anywhere near the water is by walking along a "dock" made of slippery, barkless dead tree branches and bits of firewood that someone has chucked out there. And, even by balancing precariously on those dead branches, you can only just get to the very edge of the lake.

So I would go down there with a pot and a little cup and carefully scoop off tiny amounts of water from what amounted to a mud puddle next to the shore, being careful not to scoop up any of the cooties that were darting around in there. Then with a heavy pot full of water, do the balance beam thing back to the shore and up the bank to my tent where I would boil the water for ten minutes. And this was just so I could wash my hands before eating or after using the...um...facilities.

The second day I lost my balance, fell off the branch, managed to get my foot onto one of the chunks of firewood and still sank up to my calf in muck.

It doesn't sound like a big deal except that there was simply no way to clean that up. I couldn't reach the deeper water (not without drowning in the muck at the shore first) and the amount of water painstakingly gathered in my pot was for handwashing. And there was no way I was going to sacrifice a quarter of my drinking water for this. So I learned to live with having one crusty foot.

There was a bit of a respite the second night when we were hit with violent lightning and heavy rain (no hail, thank goodness!)

Early the next morning I was out there harvesting (much cleaner!) water from Tote Bin lids and scooping it off the big silver tarp that was left out on the ground.

I have to note that at least three people at the event did offer me water from their own jugs and I did (politely) turn them all down because for me this is something I wanted to experience.

And it was eye opening. As was the fact that nobody except one brave soul (and I suspect he was just being polite) would accept coffee that I'd made even though I'd made it using my store bought spring water. I guess I don't really blame them.

I am grateful to be home where I can access safe clean water just by turning on a tap in the next room. And I am grateful for the experiences I had this weekend and for the people I met.