“To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.”
-Mary Oliver, “Yes! No!”
We knew how to do the work as kids, and never more so than during our annual summer camping trips.
We played hide-and-seek in the woods, running and tripping over gnarled roots and logs and foliage; Someone—probably my dad or my older brother—taking me by the hand to find a good hiding spot. If it was dark and chilly, I was probably dressed in a fluffy bear costume.1
Sometimes, I’d pretend I was a witch living in the forest. I’d find a big stick to use as my staff, using it to “tend” to the fire. I’d let the tip catch hold of the flames, put it out in the dirt, then hold it up to the sky, watching smoky tendrils curling off and dissipating into the air.
When I wasn’t being a witch or a bear or wrapped up in cousin chaos, I’d sit by the fire and read for hours. A bookworm from the start, I was generally content to hole up in my room and get absorbed in books. But the four days we’d spend living amongst the trees always felt magical, like being in a Miyazaki film.
It’s been awhile since I’ve gone camping, and the next best thing is all the photos and videos I get when my brother and his wife and two kids go camping—at the same campground we used to go to.
One of my favourite videos in existence is a video of my two little nieces riding in a wagon. Let’s call them Starla and Sonoya. They are four and two. Starla is yelling at the top of her lungs, “I’M SO HAPPYYYYY” over and over again while behind her, Sonoya lets out a delightful little shriek, as they’re pulled along the gravelly road by their dad.
In another video, Starla’s looking up and gesturing at the trees, singing a song in Japanese.
It reminds me of this Mary Oliver quote: “There is only one question; / how to love this world.”
Kids are good at loving the world. It is as natural as breathing, as paying attention, as being curious about every new thing.
Then you grow up and the reality beyond your safe little pocket opens up and the world gets a whole lot harder to love. Grief and rage feel like the only rational responses to what’s happening. I know that a safe, joyful childhood is not a universal experience, and that feels unforgivable.
I am more prone to meltdowns now than I was as a child—and that’s saying a lot.
I don’t know how to pay attention without losing my sanity and love for the world.
But sometimes, when I am on the verge of overwhelm, I remember that little kid who was in love with the trees and playing pretend, and if I stop to listen, I can hear them, still asking—
How can I love the world a little more?
I’m still trying to figure that out.
I missed the doorstep of August by a few days, but the Hanged Muse ritual is finally live in the Treehouse for those looking for a different perspective on suspension.
And if you need a staff for the woods, the Threads & Thresholds guidebook is still free to download here.
I hope a cute baby smiles at you today,
P.S. What’s something you loved as a child that you’d like to return to?
If you’d like to support my work but don’t want to commit to a paid membership, you can buy me a one-time “coffee” over on my Ko-fi page! Every little bit helps me to keep creating. <3
My mom originally made the bear costume for my brother when he was into the Vancouver Grizzlies (when they were still a team) and eventually it only fit me. It seemed only natural to bring it camping with us.
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