Editor’s Note: Jill Frank is a student in the Forest Dwelling Program. In this essay, written in the summer of 2019, she describes how she had her own personal “forest dwelling” experience.
A “Change in Syllabus”
You just never know what Spirit has in mind. It seems my program had an overseas component that was not listed in the syllabus. Although I sure missed being with you all in June, I have been given much, and there is much to share. As I have been discerning whether or not to continue the program, given that I missed a quarter of our time in person together, I looked back at the first page of my Forest Dweller journal. I had transcribed the poem “Camas Lillies,” by Lynn Ungar, which was shared on January 7, 2019.
What I heard was “gone…. to BE.” And I wrote:
Once I embody—
am bloomed as Being—
then there is no going back.
There is only “Being”…
exactly as I am—wherever I am—in the Mystery.
Then everything becomes organic,
integrated
the plans just manifest.
I wish to be in the state where it is no longer about ME! Pure devotion to the mystery,
to LOVE, to Source….
What happened to me over the last two months was in response to my request.
I received a text ping at 2 AM Saturday, the day before our June Forest Dweller gathering. “If it was my sister, I’d come.” I sat quietly in the night, prayed and listened, and there was no question, no doubt and no drama. I set it all down: Two jobs, a program, a daughter who was home to say goodbye before moving to California, as well as parents who were not doing well and, thankfully, a most understanding and supportive husband and self-sufficient son. I bought a one-way ticket, sent a few emails and was on a plane to France by 1 p.m.Saturday.
I didn’t realize that I was in fact going “across the pond” to my own personal Forest Dweller experience in a foreign land with a musical but unintelligible language, with healers and wise women, beautiful, fiery Frenchmen, herbal poultices and a majestic oak Tree of Life. I spent six nights in a French hospital sitting with my sister in love, using all the tools in my tool box, most especially prayer. My wish had come true, “I wish to be in the state where it is no longer about ME! Pure devotion to the mystery, to LOVE, to Source….” It was an experience of Being that can never be forgotten and was not ME…not the one with the rushed and useful life!”
Every day was a miracle, with healing plants, instructions dropped on doorsteps, names of healers being sent over from wise elders in the community, an “angel” ENT doctor who really cared, and a lovely French health care team that went above and beyond. We were in a quaint hospital in a small town with a picture window without screens. It was open the whole time. Sure, there was a French fly or two, but the fresh, healing breeze with the sound of leaves rustling and a view of the stars from my cot at night made them welcome companions.
It turned out that my sister, Grace, had a bizarre case of shingles which began internally with lesions in her throat and took more than a week to manifest as vesicles in her ear. The pain was intense, and the virus caused Bell’s palsy with facial paralysis and intense vertigo. She has recovered now, except for the vertigo, which is her constant companion. On our way home from the hospital, we stopped by a little grocery store in a small town near their home where the healer, working as a cashier, took a break, took us into a little room and worked, prayed and breathed on her. Apparently, she has much better results with “la zona” (shingles) than medicine does; the doctors in that community typically send their patients to her, but unfortunately, Grace’s case was a very strange presentation and she wasn’t diagnosed with shingles until she was in the hospital. The healer refused to accept a dime for her services, and she saw Grace several times.
Meeting the wise elder, Jeanine, was a special treat. Grace had told me of the first time they were introduced. She was so taken with her presence that she spent most of the evening sitting with Jeanine. That is the effect that wisdom has; it draws you to it and sits you down—if you’re willing. Grace lives in a tiny hamlet in the country, and Jeanine lives in walking distance up the road past her house. Her family used to own all the land in that area and gradually sold off much of it. Jeanine is 94 years old, is legally blind and lives alone. Henri, Grace’s husband, had been beside himself while Grace was in the hospital and visited Jeanine several times while Grace was away. She was a safe haven who listened, bore his pain and helped him. She was anxious to see us when we came home from the hospital.
Grace and I walked up to Jeanine’s house to visit, and what I witnessed was the epitome of a Forest Dweller. She was so simple, humble and light, pure being and presence in the form of a joy-filled, old French lady. Neither arthritis, blindness nor loneliness has dimmed the light that draws folks to her. She has one daughter and a few grandkids. Her daughter called her while we were visiting, and she laughed and said, “I’m just yucking it up with my girlfriends” (sister’s translation). There was nothing “deep” talked about that I know of, but in the ordinary conversation about barking dogs, neighbors and roses, she blessed us. She said, “Some days, I wake up and don’t know if I can get up, ‘cause the body is so stiff and my head feels funny. I ask, ‘Why am I still here?’” and she looked towards us with a big grin and said “It must be for you!”
We are all here for each other; I am grateful to have had the experience of putting aside my “rushed and useful life” and going to the French countryside. One day as my time there was coming to a close, Grace and I were sitting under their majestic oak tree, sipping tea and pondering life and our situations; I was seeing myself in her. It’s easier to see other people’s stuff than it is your own. Suddenly I saw how hard I can make things, how much energy I spend trying to be good, to work hard, to look good, to do the right thing—to be where I’m “supposed” to be and read what I’m supposed to read ad nauseam. Hmm,.I thought that was Grace!
I saw it, and it was released under that majestic Tree of Life. I can’t tell you the lightness and joy that came over me! When I got home, my husband had bought a Tree of Life art piece at a silent auction. It now adorns our wall. He hates silent auctions. What are the chances? I can be reminded daily of that majestic moment of revelation and being freed.
I returned to the two jobs, but with no attachment to either one; I was just willing to show up. I was welcomed back by both work families and told by one boss that I am there for my being. What? That they are paying me “just to be me,” and that my doing is just fine! I shared with Cliff Knighten and was gifted with a similar message, except he didn’t offer to pay me); but he did invite me to continue this program, which I had let go of and had thought I was going to drop. Now I can lightly pick it back up, dust off of my harsh self-expectations and any heaviness, and just engage with you fine, wise seekers in joy
Wishing to remember the state where it is no longer about ME! Pure devotion to the mystery, to LOVE, to Source…
By: Jill Frank