Algonquin Meditation

 

This new painting is based on a mixture of memories from a 6 day camping trip I took to Algonquin this past September. The location is a waterfall near Head Lake. The manner in which the visitor must approach it - on foot or canoe, after a journey of at least 3 hours during which it's unlikely other humans or any human made sound will be encountered - ensures the waterfall has ample chance to introduce itself under the most natural circumstances. The forest I walk through en route has a common decibel level, it seems to me. The sounds made by most animals, birds, wind, leaves, and my footsteps are of a similar intensity. There are exceptions - storms, crows, ravens - but for much of the time equilibrium reigns. But then another sound - something like heavy traffic - begins to intrude. Louder and louder it becomes, seemingly too loud for the forest. I feel nervous, this is out of the ordinary, all appears calm except this new element which is just too noisy! Is it anger I'm hearing? People get noisier as their rage grows, can I apply the same principle here? I ponder this as I remember that soon a waterfall will appear. I passed this way a year ago but had forgotten it was here. Around a corner and over a single track ridge and there it is. The water roars and the rocks underfoot are slippery. If not rage, this noise certainly speaks of caution. Take care on these rocks! I feel vulnerable. For the past few hours I've been aware of my surroundings. A grouse walking in the forest, rustling as it goes, is heard and built into my perception of place. Wind stirs, a deer gazes at me so intently that I feel it before I see it, all these things and so much more I continually feed into my brain to create an inner vision of where I am. I feel at ease and safe with this vision, there are no moose, wolves, bears, or any other potential danger that I can see, smell, hear, or feel. But now I can't hear or feel anything apart from the water. What if a bear approaches? 

And yet, I smile at myself, stop with all this fear. It may be warranted but it feels wrong to have this emotion at this time. Sit down, settle your feelings, take your part in this special place. Holy place? It seems so. Almost everywhere out here - where the touch of man is light - seems like that in it's own way. The less we mess with a place, the more the spirits are likely to stay. The waterfall has scant sign of man. Maybe none. I'm unsure if the many huge logs that tumble down it's rocky length have been cut by human or beaver. I relax more, if a bear comes, so be it. It's been over a year since I passed this way. Maybe this is my last time here. Camp is only about an hour's walk away and it's not yet mid afternoon. Plenty of time. 

I receive a strong recollection of family holidays visiting the waterfalls of Wales. My parents loved nature. Mum was also unencumbered by a formal education so she was still able to interact on a deeper level than many others. She saw and spoke to spirits often. Once whilst on holiday in a rented cottage a young boy spirit appeared but instead of being scared or amazed she simply carried on as usual and said 'please get out of the way of the TV, I'm trying to watch Emmerdale, you can sit on that stool to one side if you like.' Dad replied 'Who are you talking too?' to which Mum expressed slight annoyance that Dad couldn't see the boy. He was standing right there in full view, why couldn't Dad see him?! 

Mum encouraged me to get into the forest on my own from the age of 3 onwards.  I'd leave home after breakfast and venture miles. Something like the indigenous folk here do; they call it a vision quest and their kids start them when they're about 6. They might be out in the forest on their own for days on end. I only ever lasted the day though, going home when my stomach said it was time for dinner. But Wales, yes, it seems an important memory. Why did that just come to me? I'm not sure I believe in chance any more. I recall a book I've just finished and enjoyed immensely, 'The Book of Druidry' by Kristoffer Hughes, a Welsh druid. He describes a fascinating meditation technique that centers around a lake and it's outflow. I'd followed the technique at home but perhaps me thinking of Wales was a prompt to do it here. The connection could be as simple as that. Why not! 

So the painting is of this waterfall. The bright red maple tree that stands out prominently from the mainly green canopy. There's the logs thrusting here and there, and me meditating on the rocks by the water's edge. And an owl, because later that day an owl helped me out very much after I had appealed to it for peace of mind, so I wanted it to feature here in my memory of this day. 

Interesting aside; some indigenous folk believe that owls are amused by stutterers like myself. If they hear a stutter, they'll come closer. So if you want to talk to an owl, they say, first go stutter in a forest to draw them in closer. Sadly for me, stuttering on demand is not my forte. I only seem to do it when humans are around. On my own in the forest I'm fluent. 

Here's the meditation that Kristoffer Hughes describes. Having settled into a comfortable seated position I began by concentrating on my breathing, and then gradually recalled his words and transferred by attention to visualizing the intricacies of the waterfall.

“The manner by which I describe my mind is as a vast lake - there are rivers and streams running into it in all directions, there are shallow bits, rocky bits, unfathomable depths, and an occasional island. There are fish swimming about within it, an occasional heron that dive bombs the surface, and the ducks are just a hot flapping mess that break the surface tension (my concentration) all the time…It is a beguiling, belligerent, bemused mess. But I have to work, write books, do magic, so I focus on the lake and hone in on a section where the water runs into the mouth of a river, and that river becomes narrower and narrower, and the water is crushed by the rocky banks; it can barely contain it. The narrower the river becomes, the greater my concentration, so I follow it consciously and with great effort. The lake is still there, but it is behind my concentration. My only focus is on the narrow stream that I allow to leave it. This stream could represent anything in my magical arsenal: healing, clarity, change, retribution. But tantamount to its effectiveness is that I maintain a hold of it's trajectory and do not allow the lake to interfere. This is magical focus and the influence of my force of will.”

I enjoyed this meditation. I had no great thoughts, as I recall, but to still the mind by focusing on the passing water, that felt very refreshing. If you wish to see a video of the waterfall it features in my 'Sacred September' film, at about the 4 minute mark. You can view the video in the blog post prior to this one. 

The painting is finished I think, perhaps I will add to it later. For now, it takes its place on my wall among my pinhole photos and other paintings, some of which are part of my growing 'Memory Device' series.