Walking slowly along, trying to stay within the warming sun’s rays, I found myself standing over the riverbank in the moped parking area, looking down on the trees and river. Sadness had started to creep in. Sadness for my aging mother and the challenges she faces as mortality sneaks up on her. Feeling powerless to stop the creep of time. Letting my anger about holidays and divorce enter my head. Anger at myself for my expectations, for having them, and for not living up to them. Suddenly, movement in the trees below caught my eye. I spied a little grey fox traipsing along the ridge, and as he got right below where I was standing, he looked directly at me and we locked eyes for a number of seconds. He then turned tail and booked off in the direction he came from. I needed that uplifting sight right then. All the rest of the day, the sadness seemed to dog me. Later as I walked, I realized there was something else niggling at me. Something I’ve felt for a very long time but couldn’t quite name. There’s this profound loneliness that I’ve been fighting, and I now realize where it’s coming from. I’m not lonely for lack of people or relationships in my life. On the contrary, I’ve so much people-time that it’s absolutely oppressive to me. I understood today that my loneliness is for the earth, for nature, wild things. To be alone with the outdoors. To be able to be absolutely quiet and still with nature. When I stop and listen, really listen, to nature, the loneliness is eased. It’s as if a soothing, warm bath has been drawn for my inner self. Being in the city, and often in areas that are not safe to be alone, it is very difficult for me to get this need fulfilled. Even walking with my husband in nature doesn’t fully fill the well of this need. I think I need to carve out more time in my life for alone time with the forces that I consider divine and holy. I need to spend more time not only with my mortal mother, but the Great Mother. The one who births us all.