Solstice diary entries:

By Conrad Beaubien

The sun lingers in the old fine lace of tall pines. The comfort of early morning fills my room. The scent of strong coffee as beyond my window the vamp of blue jays, cardinals and purple finches at the feeder adds to the shadow dance that orchestrates my room. It is more than a young day; the earth has made its turn bringing us increased light and hopes in future days. It was the earliest of astrologers and philosophers that deduced our planet’s movement and relationship to galaxies vast; mystics reached for words in their attempt to describe the magic and mystery of the realm we inhabit. From all of their study and interpretations have come the rituals and scripture of current religions.

In my reading chair a bookmark yawns from bent pages of a copy of The Hermetica—The Lost Wisdom of the Pharaohs. My interest in subjects like this is kinda like enrolment in the university of life, an attempt to fathom how the peoples of antiquity saw through science, medicine, philosophy, astrology and spiritualism the body, mind and soul as holistically bound as one. In the scrolls of philosophers and thinkers of the day, lives appeared to be enriched through daily teachings found in ad hoc groups within their communities. The young and the old gathered to hear stories of the ancients and the mysticism of our being on earth.

The feeling of a mix of modern and ancient times occurred to me at the end of this past Monday afternoon, the day of winter solstice. The already dank and shroud December was filled with the greyness and sogginess of the lake. Yet donkey-shine shined; at least that’s how I put it. A number of people arrived in ones and twos to gather safely in the midst of the donkey Thunder. The meaning of a donkey in travel is somehow mystic I ponder, tucked somewhere in primordial memory that we seem to carry forward in time. Sorta like a déjà vu?

The marker of 0km of the M trail where it intersects the Kente Portage is where we met. The Portage is an ancient route of First Peoples where in the same era as the building of the Pyramids, grandparents and youth together traversed this narrow measure of land that divides the Bay of Quinte in the east from Weller’s Bay and Lake Ontario in the west. I imagine the sunsets back then where smoke rose from cooking fires as families rested and shared food together as well as offering to strangers on their journeys. I believe it is these sounds that still can be heard at the sunsets of today.

In the quiet and peaceful comfort of one another and with no destination or goal in mind except to safely share in a moment in time, we simply walked. We stopped when Thunder sensing something beyond our senses stopped. We waited with him, and resumed our stroll when he was ready. There was no mission other than connecting the heartbeats of one another, of walking in the trail of the silver legs and rhythm of Thunder.

Lanterns were our light, the forest our neighbours. You see every place that Thunder walks with us is entirely new. No longer in the close comfort of his donkey brother Joe and horse Micah, he travels apart and in the unknown, yet in the safety of all of us. It’s about trust.

This week I heard from a man who told of his childhood memories with family donkeys in Italy; also Thunder’s hand-woven saddle bags were acquired from Will. He tells of the story of the saddle bags purchased by his parents 60 years ago in the region of then Persia famed for its hand-dyed carpets. Will now follows our walks on social media and in this column online as he witnesses family history relived. I learned a most touching story told to me this week by County resident and artist Eliza Parkinson. Concerning donkeys she said, “My mother Pat lived in a small stone cottage on the west coast of Ireland with a Springer spaniel named Carter and five donkeys— Nephin Peg, Brian Booker, Maria, Nora Rose and Liam.” Eliza spoke about the many cattle farmers who kept a donkey with their herds as guard animals. “My mother’s love of donkeys and her growing knowledge of their welfare lead her to take on the role of Donkey Inspector for the West of Ireland,” she recounted. “On her daily outings if she saw a donkey in need, she would stop and talk to the farmer and give him helpful donkey tips. Occasionally someone might report a donkey in need and she would see to its welfare as well.” Eliza then talked about being surrounded by donkeys at her home of youth. “They brayed in the morning and played, chasing each other around the cottage. Mostly they hung about ‘mowing’ the grass,” she continued. “They were curious and mischievous, timid and outgoing, affectionate and standoffish. Such distinct personalities! They would stand at the windows peering in to watch us cooking, eating, reading and more.” There is additional to Eliza’s fascinating account that can be found on the website listed below. The new site enables me to share the anecdotal stories and images that have been amassing since the beginning of my travels with Thunder. What is now a for sure are the expressions of curiosity and heartfelt connections and empathy to all of the natural world. It is perhaps a gift that the current pandemic offers. Through severe loss and displacement, the natural world around waits to bring comfort: a re-appreciation and reconnection to the heartbeat of the earth.

Please walk with us in our time of challenge: walkingwiththunder.com