Over the past year I have had the opportunity to go camping three times. Oh no, not in an RV, but in a tent, in the mountains of Western North Carolina, and by a river.
Prior to that, with the exception of a 1982 hunting trip in Australia, I had not been camping since I went as an eight year old Boy Scout. Let's just say that as a "Boomer," I remember it having been a little more comfortable during those Boy Scout years.
But, all in all, what an experience it's been. There is nothing quite like life in the great outdoors. Cooking, eating, sleeping and conversing, without the interruptions of text, emails or even phone calls. Best of all however, is sitting for long periods by a campfire as life, thought, and conversation inevitably turn to quiet mediation with nothing to disturb but the crackling of a fire or the collapsing of a log upon itself.
I am convinced that there is a closeness to nature that can only be experienced as one listens to its voice in the quiet.
Similarly, I have sat for hours on a beach listening to the winds about me, the surf before me, the seagulls around me, and been carried great distances by the dense, vaporous orbs above me, sailing further out to sea. (Sorry, it's the poet inside.) I have noticed a rather strange difference to the meditation growing out of the rhythmic resonance of a beach and to that of the hushed stillness by a campfire.
I am currently sharing a poem on my homepage that I wrote in October 2017.
You can also find it in my second book, A Boomer Uncharted, available at Amazon.com. Why not check it out on my website? Oh, by the way, after sleeping on the ground with an air mattress, I found a cot with a self-inflating, self-deflating air mattress to be much more to this Boomer's liking.
Till next time, Enjoy the Journey.