The Rebel Yell.

I was camping at Sherando Lake this past weekend as a guest. We packed frozen jars of food to act as our fridge in our cooler over the next twenty-four hours. We had eggs, applesauce and a melon, as well as fresh vegetables and frozen beans. There was no mention of who was bringing what for good balanced meals. We did not go hungry.

Beautiful weather followed us all that day and evening and I had my trusty bike to lift me up and deposit me at the beach. My daughter and I swam out to the island in the lake twice; sitting on the rocks like snakes in between and getting toasty warm. I could not have been happier. The lake seemed clean, except a thin film of oils left by sunscreens smelling of coconut. We played a card game by our camp fire and the new comer to the game had beginners luck and won.

Passion flower grows on a vine and smells Divine

Saturday evening I was able to sit out on a bank that looked down on the upper lake. The lower lake, for swimming was to my left, also below where I was sitting. There was light cloud that did not hamper a lovely sunset. The whippoorwills regaled us with their three notes as they called to each other about territory and mating issues. I slowly went down many steps to get back to the car and mourned the possibility that I might not go this way again.

Back at the camp the fire was roaring along filled with many burning logs and my bones loved the feeling of being warmed right into the inside. A loud crash of thunder make us jump but we only moved into our tents when the rain started, which it did very soon. I fell asleep to the sound of crashing thunder, and falling rain.

I dreamed an anxious dream, I think on Saturday night. I forgot to attend a 9.00 appointment and no one called me to let me know from the office. I associated it to not attending church on Sunday Morning and compromised by doing a twenty minute sit with the four of us at the site. The cicada beetles were out in force. One of the campers felt that interval gave us plenty of time to say all that needed to be said relating to God. I wanted to say some prayers aloud but contented myself with saying them inside wishing light and love and healing on the campers and their nearest and dearest.

The other dream had me recommending to one of my young clients, a JMU student who loved dreams, that he read the Bagava Vita, a Hindu text. One of the campers knew it and had a translation by Ghandi. The camper said that Gandi considered the text to be the most important one for him. I thought it was about the right attitude to have if embroiled in a war. The bridge to my life of this dream brings me to my intention to read Revelations again, especially those lines that instructs the reader to “To Love God.” Sitting in silence is my way of doing this. The other bridge may be the war that happens as we struggle with life. My attitude needs scrubbing up all the time. 

Sometimes I write about intuition. One of our campers said they wanted to walk around the lake. I saw two boys riding off the path to my left. I made a plan to go with my camper friend and bike/walk the path. My friend said they would help me if needed. She had an intuition to go this way but would not have gone without company.

From the dreams

So we set off after pulling the bike from the car-rack. It was now Sunday almost noon and time to turn toward home with wet camping gear. However we tackled the path, which got stonier and narrower as we traveled up along a steep bank above the lake.  I was soon unable to ride the bike. I used it as my third and forth legs and was able to manipulate it enough for a while. I used it as my crutch.

I use my bike a lot.

I had to hold on tightly as well as keep the brakes pulled most of the time to keep it slow enough for me to walk, or ride upon.  When I was high on the bike for little bits, I wobbled between stones, and stopped when roots were too high for the bike to jump over. The tree roots and the stones, square ones and triangle ones, stuck up from the path everywhere before we got to the half way mark. Other hikers said it would remain difficult. They made way and smiled benevolent smiles at me.    

Camping grub

I found that I began to shout to balance out my anxiety about staying in control. This yelling bolstered me in the face of my fears. I scattered them on the path behind me.

They were wrong about the difficulty. Between the shouting and the riding on the second half, with a little wider path and less steep I stayed aloft on my bike. Once I caught my big toe against a stone, but it was only worth a momentary shout. I put up speed and no longer leaned on the brakes and gave out some unbridled shouts, hoping no one would notice. I was soon back at the beach and walked right into the water with my long tea shirt and my red face, cooling off a little, having left behind those voices that are not mine that inhabit my head.

Sometimes I see little tiny snakes on the sidewalk

As we left the area, a yellow rattler, eighteen inches long was on the road. I was told it had a number of rattles and a button. I stayed in the car until a large bee came inside. I stepped out opening all the windows and took a look at that half coiled rattler. My partner was anxious to stop it going down to the beach where there were lots of families.

The color of the snake, mostly yellow made me think of the third chakra, situated in the Don Tien, the Solar plexus. I am sure it is from where all my shouting came, as I circled around the pool of water that was the lake. I was happy to go home.

Out in the noon day sun watching the train go by.

Love from Rose.  

About rlongwort

Licensed Professional Counselor. Dream specialist.
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