Camping

I returned home this week from a glorious camping trip. I don't know why I love living outside so. I doubt when I was a young girl and I envied the girls who got to come home and play in their school clothes, complete with knee socks and penny loafers and skirts, that I would be the one to really love living outside and sleeping on the ground.
We went to the Hoh River and found a site at a DNR campground. DNR campgrounds are free if you have a discover pass so they tend to fill up quickly. We were lucky that we were "chosen" to be a member of their tribe. Several of the residents were living there, sort of. When we drove through looking for a spot everything as taken. We were a bit dismayed as it was getting late on a Friday afternoon. As we were rounding the corner, a woman, about my age, maybe a little older ran through a campsite to let us know that one of the sites was being "saved" and that we could have it. She told us we looked like the kind of people who would belong.

Its not easy for me to find my tribe. All my life I have felt just a little bit different that anyone else. I seem to be a jumble of paradoxical information that all makes perfect sense to me. But here, we were chosen by her. She introduced herself and as the days progressed we found out more about Marge and Mel and Eddy and realized that while I might not have had anything in common with them on the surface, the real glue that held us together was our love of the land and water, and our basic humanity and deep human kindness.

Marge ended up giving us a book she had written on spiritual seeking. She reminded my husband of Peace Pilgrim.
peacepilgrim.com
A woman who walked for 28 years for peace. I don't know if Marge was her, but sitting around the campfire, talking about the Perseid's and how a board game she developed and plays with friends over email to promote deep conversations about beliefs and stir thought pretty amazing. Her book is delightful, inclusive and deeply connected. I hope to find more immortals like Marge as I travel this earth. Marge identifies herself as immortal, doesn't give her age or other identifying information. she believes, as I do that the soul never ends. It just keeps seeking. Of course, given the work I do in Palliative Care it brings me to wondering about the nature of death. If our souls persist, then what is death, the act of death like?

What if dying feels like this? What if the very nature of our beings is to manifest in color, fire and spread? What if our nature is to ramble and flow, a life giving force in itself? With love