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UR Here Creating the New Normal
On your nature walks this year, take a stab at peregrination. By THOMAS DEAN
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Thomas Dean
As we continue to emerge from the pandemic (I hope), we often hear—and rightly so—that we really can’t go “back to normal.” “Normal” had all kinds of terrible problems, and if we’re smart, we’ll have used this time of quarantine, lockdown and social stasis to reflect on what is truly necessary and how we might reset to make life better for all. Usually these types of admonitions focus on big-picture issues—addressing climate change, establishing economic equity, advancing social justice. But we should think about resetting at all levels of our lives. So in this Little Village issue devoted to recreation, I invite you to rethink—even re-create—your recreational activities. And in so doing, we can perhaps contribute to re-creating ourselves and our communities.
I’m not necessarily talking about just switching up your workout or trying a new sport. Even as we pick up our favorite recreational activities (or continue them), maybe let’s think about how we can deepen our own experience, give ourselves new perspectives and maybe contribute to the greater good at the same time.
A few suggestions to illustrate what I mean:
We will enjoy more live music as our Iowa City downtown music festivals return to life. It’s an ideal opportunity to explore new music. If you’ve never exposed yourself much to blues, for example, take the plunge this year and broaden your musical and cultural horizons by taking in some performances at the Soul and Blues Festival (July 30–31). By attending, you’ll also support local arts and culture as well as a lot of local musicians.
Are you itching to put that competitive spirit back into play with some pick-up basketball or other games? How about looking at them more as cooperative activities than competitive ones? Competition is fine, but our world has plenty of it. In these more fraught times, we could use a lot more cooperation, so maybe let’s also exercise our imaginations and think of ways to play with other folks more than against them. That’s a kind of muscle memory that could likely have wider social benefit.
And for those of us who might be gearing up to hit the trail—of whatever kind—perhaps our hiking, biking or running are opportunities to travel deeper into ourselves rather than just farther in miles; to nourish our contemplative rather than conquering spirit; or to widen our attention and perception rather than narrow our focus and personal best goals.
On the latter, two of my favorite recreational activities are walking in our local natural areas and photography. Last year, as part of a Prairiewoods retreat on contemplative photography taught by Angie Pierce Jennings, we took cues from Christine Valters Paintner’s book The Soul’s Slow Ripening: 12 Celtic Practices for Seeking the Sacred (Sorin Books, 2018). One of
those cues was to undertake a peregrination, a wandering in which we let go of agendas and destinations, when we just let the wind of the spirit— however we define or perceive that—to move us from behind, just as the wandering Celtic saints did when they followed wherever God would lead them. On the peregrination, Paintner invites us not to be overly intentional in what we choose to photograph but to be open to images that call our attention, that “shimmer” for us. We should give ourselves over to the object or scene for a few moments and then let the camera “receive” (not “take”) an image if we are so moved.
Later, we are to let three or four images we received draw us in for more in-depth attention. Paintner says to then write a brief statement or two for each image using the voice of the image itself, beginning with “I am,” “to speak from the voice of colors, symbols, objects, shapes, and so forth, as a way of entering into this perspective on the world.” From there, we are to look at the connections between the images and statements, the story they tell, and finally to create a seven-line poem, each line based on randomly chosen words from your statements that also “shimmer” for you, and written one after another without revision or rearrangement. As Paintner says, “This is an exercise in following the thread and where it takes you.”
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I experienced my peregrination at Bur Oak Land Trust’s Turkey Creek Preserve, and I share with you below what came of it for me. These may not be the best lines of writing I’ve ever set to paper, but the process did provide me with a new experience and perspective on my nature walk in this local natural treasure. I once again invite you to re-create—to use your recreational activities to provide new insight into your relationship with yourself and this wonderful place we live in.
#1 Woods
I am the path, inviting you into the warm woods. Silphium sparkles in the dappled sunlight like swaying fairies on the forest floor. My tall, sturdy trees will lead you, hold you in the bower of my canopy. My shimmering path will guide you and hold you though you enter the unknown.
#2 Creek
I am the creek, the path quickening. My flow is swift, and hard obstacles hide beneath. But my water flows over them, not stopping, creating my own unique movement atop them, rounding their sharp edges over time.
#3 Fawn
I am a miraculous new life. I am on your path—a surprise, an inspiration, a sign that this path will bring you new joy and beauty. I am sleeping here, safe, protected for now, yet I am vulnerable. I need care and nurturing, just as you do on this new path.
#4 Prairie
I am prairie, opening and widening the path before you. I am also bursting with new life— late spring flowers and grasses, a young oak strengthening. My bold blue sky above gives you a boundless roof yet comforting certainty. My horizon is broad and far. Much lies beyond, waiting only for you to approach.
Light and life are quickening. The horizon brightens and fills with the flight of wrens. The dappled brook reflects the light of summer sun. I am vulnerable as I skim the water surface and swish among the grasses. I seek the bower to hold me close and sweet, Nurturing me to a new rebirth, A boundless promise of open possibility.
