Meditation: Walk Through Nature with Earth Mother Rhea Tepp

Research has shown when restless, angry, or absolutely confused, a walk through nature naturally calms and centers yourself. A nature walk or “forest bathing,” coined by environmental researcher Yoshifumi Miyazkiform, is a form of meditation. Meditate with earth mother Rhea Tepp in a walk through nature to overcome obstacles blocking your full potential, goals and dreams. Let your mind wander through streams of consciousness as your five senses become aware of the path you need to follow.

::::::::::::GONZO JOURNALISM:::::::::::::::

NATURE LEADS TO STREAMS OF CONSCIOUSNESS

Bite-sized recipe (vegan) – Step one. Walk alone.

LONGER VERSION CONTINUES NOW……

Walk alone. Begin on a paved gesture. The welcome mats of gravel beds dumped by man. Continue to the places where things crunch beneath your feet. Find an opening to explore. Turn sideways. Squeeze through the branches. Look back only to pull at the rubbery texture of your stringy heart. Feel it tighten and snap back at you, leaving a red mark on your skin. The sting is a reminder of when you used to only love the people who offered to try and protect you from your self. Of the times you did the same. Of the times you sometimes still want to.

Don’t proceed unless you are frightened. You’re going to have to walk long enough for your mind to start teaching you things. Things that aren’t actually there. You don’t know where you are going, but how is that different from pretending to have a destination all of the time? There’s a rustling in the bushes – a lizard or a lion, could go either way. This unknown space is wide open and heavy. The hunger for collection is strong – rocks shaped like the familiar, tiny twigs to bend and peel and toss. As a human you are constantly influencing what is already perfect. Fucking it up to learn how simple it can be.

The trail has taken you up. The edge of a cliff. The edge. The point the earth curves beyond our ability to join it. The drop. A psychic energy that speaks of unknowable, unavoidable futures. The wind picks up, targeting your skin with its’ chosen sensations. It sneaks into the fabric of your sleeves, sending goosebumps down your arms, one moment a gentle blanket, the next teasing you with a wild rustling rhythm. Covering you unapologetically. Try and protect yourself or give in to its’ creamy wave.

Your eyes are watering. You close them. It’s the first time you’ve immersed yourself in the mental manifestation of this departure. You can still see the suns rays reflected off your lids. You think of fine dining. Silk scarves and velvet slippers. Wondrous pleasures. My mom always taught me, when living in poverty, one must dress in black, accessorize, and look people in the eye. My father taught me to talk to everyone, offer a little piece of yourself, look for the dots, connect as many as you can.

I used to worry all the time. Traffic accidents and dark moles. Do I share too much? Is it sincere enough? So much worrying my stomach grew barnacles and ornamental walls until the birth of venus erupted out of me. The salt from my fear was too much for my body, made almost entirely of water, to retain. It leaked out of my eyes and my ears and they rang for days and I kept my old phone and I know that it’s the future and it’s convenient but for now I just can’t answer that question.

Fours year ago I was given notice, 72 hours, to get to the outskirts of town where the fishermen dock their boats and drink until it’s time to go to work again. At the last stop of a dead end road a trailer was kept, a life inside, barely sustained but beating. Fists against the wall for years. We knocked many times but there was no answer, only the sounds of televised propaganda. Turning our backs was a last resort. A notice was placed on the door. A condemned existence. Beyond salvage. Raccoons circled the lot, licking their paws. This city has tricked us into believing that our histories are most valuable when squeezed out, demolished, proposed-voted-passed in a single breath. Make way for steel and sore eyes. I open mine.

The pinnacle moment of so much momentum. You have dug up the bones. Ready to return to the concepts that feed off of your flesh. Ready to find all of the passionate people. Fill the room with mangos and smear raspberries on the ceiling and explore the white sands that make way for new worlds. Patterns. Wild sage – a flag in the suitcase of a runaway. You lace up your boots and start to descend.

Writing by Rhea Tepp
LA Zine Fest Coordinator
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