......I am a camper

Yogis,

I am a camper. Well……not really. I think maybe I am pretending to be a camper. If anyone got close and watched I am certain they would uncover that I am not a camper. Sigh.

Sure, from the outside I appear to know what I am doing, make the right moves and act confident. I have the tent, sleeping bag, lanterns and twinkly lights for the shade cover. “Do you have an air mattress?” I am asked.  No. I sleep in my sleeping bag on a thin pad on the ground. “Do you go out to eat?”. Again, no. The small grill and the cooler work together to feed me. I look like a camper.

Yet at times I feel like an imposter. Playing the role of ‘nature woman’. Cringing at sudden night noises. The inner voice questioning every time if I will remember how to put up the tent while the other real campers are watching. Wondering what awaits me in the dark brush as I can no longer ignore that the fluids I took in, must eventually come out. And at my stage of life….that’s several times a night.

I am a camper.

Growing up I never slept in a tent, or even outside for that matter.  While raising the boys there was one occasion at a farm party, which of course was in pouring rain, but where all the details and food were organized by others. Camping seemed to be for those brave self-sufficient folks, of which I was not one.

It wasn’t until 2012 that I was nudged forward by the Universe. I decided to study with Susun Weed for a week and chose the option of living in a tent. I prepared first by sleeping on a mattress out on my deck (waiting all night for the bats to swoop on me) and then took the leap of getting my own tent.

I practiced setting it up and taking it down inside before gathering my nerve to sleep out back (convinced that every sound I heard was the fox coming). By the time I arrived at Woodstock I was ready (Oh my god what have I gotten myself into….my inner voice screamed…..You aren’t a camper!)

I am a camper.

There is something about sleeping out under the stars that calls to me on some deep soul level. The ability to be at ease in nature at night, which scares the hell out of me, yet keeps whispering for me to come closer. Perhaps it was one of my former lives. Or a longing I was born with that wasn’t kindled until now. I ‘want’ it. So I have set my intention.  I am a camper.  And I will keep saying it, visualizing it and pretending until it seeps into my cells. 

  

I am what I believe.  I am a camper.

What is it for you? What do you want to do, feel, be that you believe you aren’t? A good dancer……. writer…….world traveler. Public speaker….strong swimmer…. relaxed. Living in CA….or moving past a fear that holds you back. See it. Be it. Pretend, if you must.

This week I slept illuminated by the full moon and opened my eyes to a pink sunrise on the dune. Seagulls and wild horses my morning visitors. For two days my vibration synching with the rhythm of the crashing waves. And as my hand brushed my leg in the middle of the night I realized I was sandy. And that was ok with me.

I heard a quote yesterday. ‘If you believe you’re right, you’re right. If you believe you’re wrong, you’re right.’

I am a camper,
SARAH

Good Morning!