Walking in this river as the sun sets, stopping regularly to talk to the women I’m with, is as close to religion as I’ll get.
The woo side of me thinks about the power of a circle of women standing in running water, sharing truths as the water both carries things toward us and away from us.
The child in me loves the exploring, the delight in allowing ourselves to fear the really deep bit that appeared to grab our giant stick and drag it down.
The fearful/brave me likes testing my body out, doing things I couldn’t have dreamed about when I spent my life tethered to a wheelchair and crutches.
The asshole in me likes laughing when a friend screams and almost falls in.
The friend in me likes holding hands to keep our balance, and holding each others’ words….to keep our balance.
So this is my religion. Open skies, trees hanging low and lush, river rapidly darkening so it’s hard to see where to place my feet. Talking and laughing and sharing under the hidden stars, exploring just a little bit further, really being in the here and now instead of thinking about the past or planning for the future.
It’s reminding myself how great it is to figure out what I need, ask people who wants to join me, and things aligning enough in a few busy lives to come together and create space.
I don’t know if we’ll do it again, if the same people will come, if those who couldn’t come this time will come to the next, but none of it matters.
We walked, we stood still. We laughed, we cried. We lost our balance and found it again.
If that’s not religion, I don’t know what is.