Reflections, insights and observations about life Inspired by walking with a dog named Asha. Written and narrated by Marilyn Webster. Produced by Josh Packard.
I made a map that tells a story – about where I've walked (and about getting to know wooded paths and trusting how I find my own way).
When I failed to act on my desire to hold a ceremony for a beloved tree, I wrote this letter.
Listening to the whispered wisdom from leaves of an unfamiliar shrub encourage me to meet myself with tenderness as I explore the next iteration of my work.
Two walks, two months, one place: When doubt, grief and anger became a key that unlocked wonder.
Lying on a frozen pond, trusting the ice will hold me, feels akin to the decision-making that took me away from the solid ground of the familiar.
“Norma,” my inner critic, visited while I lingered at the beaver meadow. Mary Oliver's poetry helped me reclaim my enoughness.
How journaling the phrase “headed into the woods” turned “heart” into a verb. (And what happened next.)
Finding a Northern Casemaker Caddisfly larva in a beaver pond started me thinking about my own portable cocoon.
Walking by the beaver pond with Asha, expecting to see Canada Geese but finding the pond empty of birds, prompted me to consider wonder, both noun and verb.
What I found while crunching through the snow searching for birch seeds.
I recently made a decision that has me feeling like I’m venturing from the warm comfort of the known into the fog. When I start to get lost in the questions and unknowns, I think about that foggy morning and remember that whenever I looked too far ahead, the road was soupy. I pull my gaze back to the present, to what I do know and let go of the desire to figure everything out. Read the full story at walkswithasha.com/stories.
I was drawn to the familiar wooden bridge in the clearing today because beavers are building a dam under this bridge. With the resulting changes to the landscape, this spot feels like a microcosm for the world which is changing so rapidly. More than any other place along the trails Asha and I walk regularly, this pond-in-progress invites me to be with my emotions about the coronavirus pandemic. Read the full story at walkswithasha.com/stories
One of the more tender messages I’ve received is about how those who aren’t able to get outdoors miss feeling connected with nature. My hope is that this story offers a way for you to come along on my walks with Asha … to stand in a clearing, hear the water and feel the touch of early spring snowflakes. Read the full story at walkswithasha.com/stories
One afternoon in early August, Asha and I paused during our walk, by the side of the road, to listen. It was raining acorns. “Is this normal? A sign of climate change?” I wondered, because it seemed like too many acorns too early in the year. As I looked up into the overlapping branches of the canopy, trying to determine which trees were oaks, I became aware of how much I don’t know about these woods in which I walk every day. My curiosity started me on a path to learn more, starting with trees. Read the full story at walkswithasha.com/stories
It is a humid day and I have spent our walk waving my arms to keep the mosquitos, blackflies, deerflies and gnats away with some success, but their buzzing, whining, whirring have chipped away at my spirit. Read the full story at walkswithasha.com/stories.
Asha does an approach-retreat-bark dance when she’s startled by something. I usually laugh and let her take her time to explore whatever it is. Turtles crossing the road. A large ball of snow. A stack of balanced rocks in the middle of the trail that wasn’t there the day before. I love the physicality of her natural instincts because I get to see what’s going on. Read the full story at walkswithasha.com.
One summer morning Asha and I walked along a new-to-us trail that I’d been eyeing for some time. I wondered if it would bring us to the bridge over gentle waters from a different direction. It did. And it took us past a serene beaver pond. Yet I returned home feeling unsatisfied, an experience which made me wonder what makes for a satisfying walk. Read the full story at walkswithasha.com.
I like looking at an occasional trail map to figure out where I’ve been or to discover other possibilities, especially satisfying loops. But I’ve come to see that while I might want a map, sometimes I’m better off without one. You can read this story at walkswithasha.com/stories.
Everything about today – the sunshine, the quality of light, the temperature a pleasant 47°, the forecast of snow later in the week – says, “Slow down. Linger.” Read the full story at walkswithasha.com
Discerning when not to give up and when to let go is hard. Sometimes the going gets tough and I want to give up, yet it’s important to persevere. Other times I keep trying, keep tweaking, keep showing up, yet it’s time to let go and make room for something else. Read the full story at walkswithasha.com
There have been times in my life when the "bears" have stopped me from doing what I felt called to do. … Click here to read the story online.
The image of the stick drifting to the edge of the stream offers me comfort. It reminds me that waiting is not the same as doing nothing. ... Click here to read the story online.
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