August

August is here! As a former public school teacher, I used to have this overwhelming sense of dread and anticipation as the school year approached. I’m quite sure any educator understands this feeling all too well. I am not in the public school system anymore, and I must say, there are facets of my former life that I truly miss. I miss the relationships and the connections that I made with children. I miss their inquisitiveness and their openness to learning new things as well as embracing the new surroundings in which they find themselves.  This is why I so enjoy when children come to the museum, it’s a chance to catch that glimmer again.

I listened to a meditation today that really got me thinking. I’ve been living on the Gunflint Trail for most of the summer again, and I’ve noticed the differing energies of the people who are here, and I wonder what energy my being is putting out there in this world. The meditation teacher on the app said that when she attends a certain meditation center in a remote area, attendees are instructed to meditate for an hour to help dissipate their “city energy.” She spoke of how most of us live in an urban center and become so used to the frenetic way of modern life that it’s hard for us to slow down and take in the pace of the natural setting that we find ourselves in.

It’s warm up here today, so as I sit at the tiny house with all of the windows open, I can hear the road traffic on the trail, but I can also hear the birds moving about in the trees outside of the windows, calling to one another. There must be a very agitated red squirrel because his trill is loud and clear, warning others of something that irritates him. There is also the chirping and buzzing of any number of insects and the slight whispering of pine needles with the occasional yet very welcome breeze.

I am reminded that some have stated that rest is a form of resistance. To rest, to step back, to pull oneself away from the frenzy, all things urgent, and turmoil, is in and of itself an act of resistance. It is as if to say, ‘I will not engage in the craziness for a moment to allow myself to become refreshed.’

Many people arrive at the museum with very solid “city energy.” They want to know what we have to offer, what to see, what to do, where to go, how long everything will take, where they can see a moose, and where they can find food along the way. I try to answer their questions as best I can, but I sense their frustration with me in that I’m not quick enough in giving them the information they desire. Some people choose to get in their cars and leave immediately; what we have to offer is not what they’re looking for, which always mystifies me. There are others who spend very little time with us and apologetically tell me that they have other items on their agendas that they must attend to, which is fine, but it leaves me wondering why they apologize to me for this. Then there are those folks who come, let their shoulders relax, breathe, and end up spending the entire day with us. When they leave, they usually tell me how much better they feel and how grateful they are that they took the time to explore and relax. They are the ones who are able to ditch the “city energy” and get in touch with the natural settings they find themselves in.

It makes me wonder about myself, how many times have I gone to some place only to miss most of it because I’m thinking about what’s next on my to-do list? How can I keep the Gunflint Trail energy in me even though I may not be here? How can I better slow my energy down to truly see what the natural world is teaching me, be it in an urban setting or the Superior National Forest?

So here’s to August. Our chance to choose to slow down, to rest as an act of resistance, to savor the sounds of every little creature out there reminding us that they too are worthy of noticing and just might have something to tell us.