R & R part 2: Nature is a Tonic

Nature is a tonic. I grew up with natural remedies and the kitchen cupboard apothecary, repurposed bottles containing various roots and spices steeped in overproof rum were a regular sight among the bathroom linens and back up stock of tp and toothpaste. But my experiences in nature were very few. The fledgling greenery of a new suburban subdivision was my baseline. There was a weeklong YMCA day camp that culminated in a single overnight stay but I suspect never repeated because of a fellow camper’s midnight nausea. Sleeping bags were hastily relocated but the sour scent of regurgitated spaghetti lingered in the tent. Cottage weekends were a ubiquitous middle class staple except among the immigrants, so I didn’t experience my first lakeside visit until second year of Uni—given the company it was more howling at the moon than moon bathing. Ten years later a boyfriend would introduce me to the summer routine of restorative cottage weekends. To sit on a dock with no agenda except the book in my lap while the sun recharged my cells was pure bliss. Today’s ice bath trend reminds me of the exhilaration felt jumping into the frigid lake, something I was less successful at as I need to ease myself into any cold temperature setting. Over time a space altered the relationship, but a cottage invite came from the boy-slash-friend after my father died; that weekend respite was more soothing than a spa day. 

I am currently enjoying an escape to Costa Rica while the US struggles with its democratic process. The Rich Coast was justly named by the Spanish during their plundering phase; the coastline is majestic and abundant in curative qualities. I’ve taken my daily ten thousand steps on sand; enjoyed a daily water cure in the salty bay and meditated on the setting sun. It’s all muy rica. It seems a fitting place, with its abundant expat community, to meditate on where to root myself as the world shifts.

The wisdom of the natural world is undisputed. An unprecedented heavy rainfall over the past five days created streams of strong, fast moving water draining from the town streets to the ocean. Water always finds its way. I walked along the beach yesterday and there was suddenly a river bisecting my path. From ostensibly nowhere one of the town’s strays came running up behind me, she wagged a hello and continued ahead as if beckoning to me follow. Her little legs had divined the shallowest part of the rushing waters and I watched as she crossed without getting her belly wet. I didn’t question the wisdom just followed her lead. She never looked back, just ran ahead to meet with some fellow strays. Pura vida.