Geography of the James (Earth Lodge)

When thinking about where I wanted to choose as my reflection spot for the next few months I remembered an area on the edge of campus that I’ve wanted to revisit since the end of last semester. As part of the ecology class I took last semester we had to complete an independent research project, and mine focused on the water quality of the Westhampton Lake and its immediate tributaries. More specifically, I was comparing the levels of nutrients and fecal coliform bacteria in the water found before, in, and after the lake. My results shed a less than favorable light upon the quality of water on our campus, but for me the most surprising find was the beautiful area around the creek that leads into our lake. Up until our most recent class meeting I did not know the actual name of this wonderful site, but now with the help of TLB I know that it is called Little Westham Creek.

The first thing that struck me about this creek was just how scenic it was, and still is. Its banks are lined with bamboo, and the jagged rocks that populate the upper portion create lovely running riffles that seem almost too picturesque, as if someone had placed them that way on purpose. Now, when I say “upper portion” what I really mean is the area I thought was the highest point at first glance. When I continued to walk up the stream I found yet another waterfall-like section that was just as eye-catching as the first. In-between these two sections I noticed how incredibly flat the land became and how the water slowed down to just the slightest trickle at places. In several spots it seemed as though that the water barely got through and over to the next fall. I found this puzzling as we have not really had a shortage of rain recently, and I wondered if there are times when the water really does not make it from one section to the other, or if it always finds its way.

Speaking of things that were not in short supply, I also found the creek littered with everything from beer cans to tennis balls to an empty water spray tank. However, I could hardly take this as a surprise as just about 50 feet off the creeks shore are privately owned homes. Along with the litter, I noticed what looked to be a garden near the bank of the creek, which would explain the water spray tank that I later found out is used for gardening. Still, I did not want to jump to any conclusions about the human impact on this creek, as it did seem for the most part to be decently well maintained. In fact, on my way out I noticed a sign that read, “Community Stream Project: To improve water quality and help reduce erosion, the buffer of trees, shrubs and groundcover along this stream was planted in partnership by:…”, which was followed by a list of sponsors. This brought me back to the bamboo that I first noticed lining the banks of the creek. I had wondered if bamboo was native to the area (I did not think so), and was now considering if bamboo happened to be the tree of choice to reduce erosion. As it was getting dark and I continued walking along the stream I felt the chill of winter and looked around to see many of the trees bare. I couldn’t help but think to myself, “If this is what the creek looks like now, I wonder what it looks like in full bloom!”

In fact, it seemed as though the further I trekked up the stream and the more I saw, the more questions I had and the fewer answers. However, fortunately now as my reflection spot I now have more than enough reason to revisit this stream and see if I cannot find a few of those answers, and perhaps a little more vegetation!

I honestly didn’t go to any reflection place around campus because I simply couldn’t get a second this week to go to the place I had in mind and really sink into the moment. SO, instead, I spent some quality reflection time during my Intro to Global Economics class today. It’s a fantastic class; I highly recommend each of consider taking it, having a bit of knowledge in economics is never a bad thing. Anyways, it’s a three hour class that meets once a week from 6-9pm in the B School. Naturally, I ate a HUGE meal beforehand and my eyes started to droop the moment I sat down. As Professor Cook (great guy!) took the attendance and got sidetracked by telling us a story about his childhood, I slowly sunk into my reflection period. It might have only lasted 10 seconds, but it felt like an eternity.

I’m back in Maine. I’m following a narrow and substantially overgrown path towards the sound of crashing waves. The wild grass comes up to my shoulders and the occasional wild raspberry bush scrapes my calf, but I know the trip is worth it. I make this trip whenever I need to, whenever I need to escape from…basically whatever. The wild grass now only reaches my waist and I can easily see the ocean opening up in front of me. All of the sudden, the wild grass is out of my vision and all that is left is a short drop off to the open ocean. There is absolutely nothing between me and Portugal at this point, just miles and miles and miles of open blue. I hop down to the rocks and descend towards the powerful ocean spray. My dog knows exactly what is going on; she’s not trying to chase seagulls or chew on sun baked lobster remnants, she sits right next to me and we both just stare. It’s beautiful.

“KAYLIN. Is that how you pronounce your name son??”

“Er, no. It’s Kelin”

Guess I’m back in class

The city awakens. Everything around us starts to move: lights turn on in buildings, cars stream over the bridge, and lonely pedestrians make their paths up the other side of the hill where we have placed ourselves, awkwardly still in the midst of motion. Even the sun has to get ready for the new day, and pushes himself up over the skyline. Besides our small band of intrepid explorers of the early morning hours, the only one who seems unhurried by the impending day is the James. He continues, as he always does, smiling up at us from where he makes his home.

We are still.       Our thoughts are busy.

Mine are busy with you.

I am full up with you. So full of who you were and who you are. I am proud of the ways you have grown and the things you have overcome. I see you working every day to do what is right and what is true. I can remember a year ago when you finally told me what was wrong and showed me how broken your heart was. I remember only wanting to stretch my arms so far around you that I could pull you all together. I just want to make you whole again. But all I could do was be there with you and listen and love you.

My thoughts are miles away with you in my
mind as I await the new day and all it holds.

It was a beautiful, wonderful day outside.  Given the assignment to find a reflection point, I knew right away I wanted somewhere off campus.  I love the Richmond campus, but I love exploring and seeing new things.  I think that is why I picked my location.

While I am sitting up in this huge tree I see the water and the estate. I just think about how beautiful everything looks and begin to reflect on my day.

I had my first Chinese test of the semester this morning.  I was very stressed and upset with my performance on the test and was not in a very good mood.  Fortunately, that all changed when I got outside.  I begin to take in some deep, relaxing breaths and almost immediately begin to calm down.

Realizing the Chinese test is behind me, and feeling much better now, I look around and see I have made it half way up the tree.  My heart is beating faster than usual and I am unsure on high I should climb.  I decide right then and there I will try to climb higher each time I come back.  I love challenging myself and forgetting about the regular worries of life.  It lets me feel free.

While I listen to the birds singing and the tress blowing in the wind, I look out and can sort of see the water.  All of this puts a smile on my face.  Even though I can hear the train go by in the distance, and the cars are driving by, it does not seem to matter because I am surrounded by the wilderness and am cocooned in this magnificent tree.

WHAT A WONDERFUL WAY TO SPEND A COUPLE HOURS OF MY DAY

A bold goose begins to waddle up to me, looking almost adorably curious, and shaking droplets of water off of him as he goes. It is twilight and my vantage point is perfect to observe not only our unofficial avine mascots but also the exiting sun over the campus. Today, the clouds look like Shannon took a purple paintbrush and threw strokes across her palette of the evening sky.
It is at times of this breathtaking aerial beauty such as this that I can truly appreciate the stark barrenness of the trees, because they become a frame and an enhancement to the myriad of colors splashed across the evening sky.

I look up, attention diverted to a specific tree above me, as some leaves fall into the lake. Could it be? No. Not yet. It is too early for those to be buds. They are only those funny, spiky balls that I think are supposed to be leaves?
The birds have forgotten my existence by now and are entirely absorbed in the lengthy task of cleaning themselves. I’m trying to imagine what it’d be like to have as flexible of a neck as theirs, and a whole new world just opened up! Imagine with me for a second. Back tattoos? Totally reasonable now that you can see them. People trying to scare you? Gone. The cricks in your neck that happen when you’re trying to talk to a person in the back seat from the front? No longer!
Oh, goose. What lucky creatures are you.
Back from my musings, this time of day (night?) might be my absolute favorite. A kind of stillness lays over the water and over the people strolling by me like an invisible fog. The day is done.

Let me just get this fact out there, I don’t drink water. I believe water has a disgusting taste and therefore ever since I was able to make my own decisions, 7^th grade, I have been anti-water.  Only recently as I prepare for my journeys abroad have I forced myself to drink the vile substance in small increments. Ironically, I am also fascinated with water. Whenever I have been stressed, frustrated, or even extremely joyous finding water is like finding my center. The bubbling of creeks and rushing of waterfalls flows through my mind, body and soul completely silencing all thoughts and washes me into a calm zen.

For privacy reasons I will not share my reflection spot in full detail however obviously water is a huge presence. It gurgles against the rocks, creating miniature whirlpools here and there. Three trees sprout from one trunk and then twist back together providing the perfect seat amongst the forest and its creatures. The only sign of humanity is a small beaten path that twists off to the right about 10 feet away. Small birds dart around close by, in and out of their nests. Squirrels are the funniest creatures to watch, as they bounce and twist and leap and stare quizzically, constantly cautious and wary. On this particular visit stress was my burden and I let the water carry it away over the horizon as the sun sank in splendor, first orange then red and finally purple clouds splashed across the sky.

Second semester I made time to come here everyday but more recently we have grown apart. Today’s adventures surprised me with an empty beer can nestled in a bush nearby suggesting the presence of another human. Hopefully it was a one-time visit and we shall never encounter each other again. My spot holds my secrets and my memories and I do not want others to stain its perfection. So if you happen to wander down this path and see three trees forming the most comfortable seat in the woods… appreciate what this site means to me and walk away.

I have chosen a reflection spot near a fountain. Despite the fact that this source of water is small and not part of the natural physical landscape, I don’t think it is insignificant. I wouldn’t be surprised if many others chose to reflect near water too. After interesting conversations in various lit group meetings and during our camping trip, I discovered the significance of water to many fellow Earth Lodgers. Shannon’s memories of dangerously rising waters, Kelin’s favorite fishing spot in Maine, Phoebe’s summer Pinery retreat, and my own memories of a lake near my home come to mind. Perhaps there is something about flowing water that allows our thoughts to flow more freely. The steady rush of a stream and the rhythmic ebb and flow of ocean waves have a deeply calming quality.

Water is a powerful force and an essential commodity. Hurricanes, tsunamis, and floods claim many lives and shape the identities of those they affect frequently. Millions of people without access to clean water suffer detrimental health and environmental impacts. Yet I rarely stop to think about how much I rely on water and how lucky I am to have unlimited access to however much clean water I need or want. Water is essential to people at many scales: at the human level, it is a basic necessity without which we cannot live; at the local level, large bodies of water have shaped the settlement of communities and contribute to drinking supplies; at the largest scale, oceans help transport goods around the world. Despite water’s great power, people have tried to control large sources of water in potentially harmful ways. As we learned last week, rivers have been straightened for aesthetics. They have been put in pipes and moved for convenience. But as is true with most aspects of nature, it is better to step back and let the river (or creek, or lake) run its own course.

Here I am. Am I? No I’m not. Cold, I should have worn more than a sweater before I came out here. Sun. Warm. This is nice, I could get used to this. The ground is damp and soft. Robust as this rock I am sitting on. Breathe. Wind. Focus. Silence. A perfect silence. Finally alone in my own head. To break this would be criminal. A bird chirps. One of the most beautiful sounds uttered. Willed into existence. We are not so unalike. There are a few resilient blades of grass present here and there. Grass overwhelms the landscape. I look for the bird. Close your eyes and see it. Ah, there he is. I do not see the grass; I do not worry about the grass. Grass can take care of grass’s self. Grass is grass. All I care about is the bird, and he is right there. He looks like a beautiful wave of sound, pleasantly chirping. Moves, and becomes softer. I cannot see the bird. Can he take care of himself? Can I take care of myself? I came here freely on my will. Surely that counts for something. Did I leave the light on? The bird is back, but he doesn’t present himself. He’s hiding behind the grass, which clothes the soil. Are these my shoes? I am soil. Clay, rather. Made up of the same things. Carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, hydrogen. Phosphorus. Just a bunch of organic matter, that’s all we are. What is soul? This grass clothes me; get off my lawn, bird. I am now breathing manually. A tally, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. I am lost and lost count. The sun pierces a hole in a cloud and I gain energy. Fucking Kreb’s cycle, if only you were closer to your cousin Calvin I could be nourished by the sun as well. I am nourished by the sun. I don’t know where I am, and everything around me becomes nothing; nothing becomes everything. Fears and apprehensions melting. Grass can take care of grass’s self. Are my eyes still closed? The wind flecks my skin, imbedding in my face with more microscopic me. Oh, hello there birdie, I had not seen you appear so suddenly! I am lost, but surround me are all those who are lost, and I am found. Here I am. Lest I get swept up aga-

Spend some time with this song. It’s really pretty beautiful. We often spend so much of our time looking at individual issues that we miss the forest for the trees. Step back from a self-centered view, breath, and see for miles, miles, miles.

As I stand at my reflection spot, I find myself grateful that I wore my boots today. My reflection spot is a bit messy, sort of marsh like. But my boots can handle anything and I do not mind sinking down a few inches in the mud.

I look around at my lush surroundings. The Virginia foliage is different that where I am from. It seems to have more energy at rest, and it is also a bit denser and greener. The science half of my head tells me this is because it is warmer down here and that means there is a longer growing season for plant life. The other half of my head decides it is time for me to clear my mind and just absorb my surroundings.

It is always difficult for me to just relax. I always have a million things on my mind and a to do list about a mile long. I even hate sitting down for extended periods of time. I am a restless soul. My spot reflects this; because it is so boggy, it is not a place where I want to sit. The way I see it, my hunter-gatherer ancestors rarely sat on the hunt, or at all for that matter. Why should I feel the need to sit down in order to relax.

With that thought I finally start to let go of all of my worldly concerns.
I feel the warmth of the sun on my face.
I taste the fresh air.
I hear to the sound of the birds.
I see the lush green grasses fed by the stream.
I smell subtle earthy undertones.

I picked well. I picked a place that engages all of my senses. I think I will come back soon – of course, only on a day that I am wearing my boots.