to befriend,
to renew,
to enrich,
to experience.
And just about anything was possible, anything could happen.
Now that I am already home and already a little too immersed
in the day to day,
in the rush of deadlines,
in the give and take of a day
and the phone ringing
and all the things we do everyday, I look back at this photo, and remember:
there are so many things that I want to remember, to keep taking out of my treasure
box in the months to come and dust off, and smile, or maybe feel my eyes filling up.
I want to remember seeing and being seen:
Not in the way of an off-handed nod while thinking about something else as you pass someone in a corridor
or on the street, but in the full eye-to-eye contact, where the half smile or the nod is deeply acknowledged,
and passed back and forth, like a gift.
I want to remember the laughter and the voices:
in the woods, out on the docks, in the cabins, in the dining hall, everywhere.
There was such a beautiful variety of sounds:
the animated talk of a group, the quiet, private voices
coming from cabin porches and docks at the end of the day, the excited voices calling through the woods
and along the paths, it's all like a song in my head now, a beautiful and spontaneous
weaving of
voices, like some amazing piece of improv that Ella would be singing.
I want to remember the light through the trees and how each path through the woods
had it's own meander,
and how each day the light was shifting and mysterious and familiar all at once as I walked to and fro,
meeting others along the way, or walking
by myself.
I want to remember the dock that I spent many an hour on looking out at the lake,
or up at the stars, it was my meditation spot, my resting spot, my touchstone.
And most of all, I want to remember all of you.
All of you that danced and shone,
just like the sparks from the bonfire that first night.
All the beauty and the care for each other and the open hearts,
and the hands held, and the arms that wrapped around,
and the eyes that met and held, held each other,
and the voices talking long into the night,
and the stepping past our usual comfort levels and trying,
just trying something different.
Stretching and meeting each other.
Leaping and finding our ground.
Transparent and fragile, and yet, strong enough to dance and shine.
I saw all your lights, and I saw mine too, and these are the memories I want to remember to take out every once in a while, on a particularly difficult day, or on a wonderfully brilliant day, or just a day that I hear the wind move through the trees and remember the woods, and all your shining lights moving through the buoyant air.
for having this bold and beautiful vision,
and for being a gorgeous and tempting muse for us all.
And thank you, all of you that gathered in the woods in NH, by the side of a lake, in early autumn, thank you, all of you dancing lights that shine, for showing up and being.
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