I am sitting
in my newly constructed log cabin talking with my son, Chris. He has flown out from Wisconsin to New Hampshire to help me
with the daunting task of clearing fallen trees and piles of construction
lumber from my 10 acres of forested land on the side of a mountain. It is spring in the year 2000, and I have
just spent the past 6 cold and snowy months living in an old stilt house a few miles down the
dirt road that runs past my cabin. Since it had
no running water and an old pot bellied stove for heat, I am ecstatic to finally be settled in my cozy cabin. The complete darkness outside at night in this forest still amazes me, after years spent living in more inhabited areas. There are no neighbors, no street lights and no
distant city lights. The room is dimly
lit by a fire burning in the wood stove and it warmly reflects off the knotty pine walls and ceiling. Sitting here, I feel like I am living in the womb of the forest. The only sounds are the crackle of the burning logs
and a slight breeze through the pine trees outside.
After 30 years of marriage, I am newly
divorced. Back home, the family business of 97 years
has failed, my rambling old Victorian home on my beloved lake in Wisconsin has
been sold and my only brother has taken his life.
My 4 grown children are on their own, and I have apparently taken leave
of my senses and moved halfway across the country to the middle of
nowhere. I have no idea why I am here,
and it feels as if something bigger than myself is now orchestrating my life.
My new cabin is
built into the side of a mountain with the main living space on the upper
level, accessible only from the road side.
The side of the cabin, facing down the mountain has a huge covered porch that
stretches the entire length with a breathtaking view of the mountains of
Vermont across the forested valley.
There is no outside stairway from the yard below to this lovely
porch. It is only accessible from the
second floor living space. The floor of the porch is a good 10 feet above the
ground that steeply slopes down the mountain. That way I would not have to think about bears and such rambling around on my private porch.
My son and I
are having a wonderful conversation as we often do. He is intelligent, interesting and open
minded. I am sitting on my couch facing
the sliding glass doors that open out onto my porch, and Chris is facing me in
an armchair next to the wood stove. I am talking about my dad who has been gone for 16 years and experiencing an intense feeling of love for him as I reminisce. As I am speaking an
extremely bright orb of light floats outside the railing
of my porch in the darkness. It moves in
a straight line past the glass doors I am looking out. I
see it and stop in mid sentence as my mind goes blank. It takes me a few seconds to calculate
mentally that there are no streets, no houses and no people in the darkness outside
my doors that are over 10 feet above ground. I know that whatever it is, floats very close. I see each post in the
railing silhouetted as it slowly passes. Since
I have never experienced anything like it, I have no words to explain it to my
son who is facing me and not looking out. Somehow, my dumbfounded mind just tucks it away for future
reference.
The next two
years are filled with much hard work, many miles of exploring and wandering in
the forest and an intense period of creativity.
I feel a certain magic that seems to seep from the forest floor and
float in the air. The 10 acres of land
that drops down from my cabin to a beaver pond are filled with bubbling
streams, huge ferns and many quartz crystals that seem to have popped out of
the ground among the trees. Some are as
big as boulders and the colors range from sparkling white, to amber and
rose. It’s as as if I have entered a
slightly altered realm where anything is possible.
From the
beginning strange forms start to appear in my photographs. I never try to explain what they are, but
just accept that there is an unseen world that is somehow connected to mine
during this time. The first form that
appears in a photo is a beautiful spiral that seems to be rising up from a
rushing river. I have leaned over a very
old stone bridge somewhere in the area and taken a picture looking down and out
at the river. I remember clearly that it was an overcast and dry day because I am trying to make sense of it as I examine
the photograph. There was no mist, no
rain and no bright sunlight.
On another
day, I am taking photographs of the lovely little streams down below my
cabin. Once again it is cloudy and
dry. The three photos in succession show
an orb of light following me and getting closer each time. Again, I have no explanation in my mind as to
what or who these orbs are, other than to say that despite the huge upheaval of
my life and subsequent journey to the mountains, I feel absolutely no fear for
the first time in my life. Something is
protecting me. Of that I am certain.
The last
image is of a friend of mine. She is the
only person I knew when I moved to New Hampshire and graciously loaned me the
stilt house to live in while my cabin was being built. She unexpectedly moved to Arizona after I
settled in New Hampshire and came back to visit once. When I take this photo of her, I have lived alone here in the forest for almost 2 years and know it is time for me to move back to Wisconsin and be
with my family. The image above her head
is very dramatic and I never know if it is meant for her or for me, but it is
the last time I have something unseen appear in my photographs.
I am sitting
on the back step at the entrance to the upper level of my cabin where the dirt
road winds past. It is so intensely dark
out that I can barely see my hand in front of my face. I am comfortable with the darkness and the
quiet of this place. I know that I am
leaving soon, and I feel a sense of sadness wash over me at yet another change
in my life. But I know it’s time to go
back to my family. I want to take a
greater part in their lives again, as they marry and have their own children. I am also feeling the strong pull of my
Golden Lake once again. I look to the
left at my little driveway that slopes down from the dirt road. The forest is dense and close on the other side
of it. Once again, as I sit in the all
enveloping darkness, I see the glowing orb.
It moves slowly and in a straight line through the trees and past my
cabin heading down the mountain. I smile
and say hello to this spirit that has bookended my adventure.
I get up and
enter my cabin and shut the door.
Tomorrow I will leave this place and go back out into the world of
hustle and bustle. I don’t know what it
will bring, but I hope my spirits come with me.
