Asheville, I Hear Your Call

The Great Smoky Mountains.

While teaching on the eastern shore of Maryland, I attended a single-artist art showing in the quaint little Eastern Shore town of Berlin. At a small, square, cloth covered  table away from all the wine glass toting art aficionados, sat I an elderly woman. I felt a compelling need to approach and acknowledge her. Her face was kind, and her eye contact was powerful. I asked if she was related to the artist, to which she smiled and replied, "Aren't we all related in some way?"

"What brings you to the art show?" I asked her. She produced a deck of cards from beneath the table and spread them out skillfully over the rough tablecloth. "I read cards," was her response. "Would you care to have me read them for you?" I was taken aback by this unexpected twist. They are Tarot cards, I realized. Whether there was anything to it, or not, the idea of them had always fascinated me. How could I pass up such an opportunity? "How much? I asked. "Thirty dollars," she said nonchalantly. I agreed, and she motioned for me to take a seat.

A deck of Tarot cards.

Moving the cards aside, she asked for both of my hands. I obediently presented them. She turned them upward, then asked me to grip her arms above her wrists, and she did likewise to mine. We sat quietly and motionless for what seemed like a long time, but I am sure it was no more than a minute. "Mountains," she said, breaking the silence. And then shaking her head in the affirmative, she repeated, "Mountains."

"Mountains?" I replied. "Yes, mountains," she confidently assured. "It seems that you want to go to the mountains but now is not the right time for you."

"Oh?" I asked. "Yes," she replied. "Now is not the time for you. Your finances are not currently what they need to be for such a move. You must wait for two years. Yes, that will be the right time."  After  a brief pause, she added, "It is meant for you to go. It is there that you will receive your crowning glory."

My what? I just sat there motionless and speechless, stunned by her words. You see, for a long while prior to that night, I have had a growing desire to do just that - move to the mountains - the Smoky Mountains, and specifically, Asheville, North Carolina. How could the old woman have known?

A year earlier, I was living in Key West, when a total stranger had asked if I was from Asheville. The first time it happened; I simply brushed it off. But when it occurred a second time, at a different place involving different people, I could no longer simply let it slide. When asked this for a second time, I asked the persons to elaborate. Their response was quick and simple: "Because you look and act like someone who might be from Ashville."  At home that night, I Googled Asheville, curious to discover what might make people think that of me. Surprisingly, I soon found it easy to understand.

A month or so before the night of the art show, I had attended a Happy Hour gathering at a local sports bar. I joined a fun group of folks who insisted on buying me a drink. Soon into our conversation, a woman in the group asked if I were from Asheville. What? The Florida Keys, and now the Eastern Shore of Maryland? It was beginning to look like there was going to be no escaping Asheville. Third time is the charm, they say, so with Spring Break coming up, I decided I ought to spend it in Asheville, and finally experience what it is all about for myself. In no strange way at all, I took it as a mandate from the Universe. So, I obediently drove down and spent three glorious days there being a sponge and attempting to soak up as much of the awe inspiring city and its surroundings as I could in that short visit. It was me, all right, and it was love at first sight!

The scenic Blueridge Mounatins.

On the ride back to Maryland, I decided I would take the old woman's words to heart and wait to make the move to the "big" mountains. Having now been there and seen them, I was eager to return. Taking it slowly, I took on a part-time teaching position at Shepherd Univerity in Shepherdstown, West Virginia. It was nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, which, by the way, just happened to be pointed in the direction of the Smokies and Ashville. I believed Shepherdstown would help condition me for what lay ahead, and temporaily satisfy my hunger for mountains by providing a small taste of them.

Aerial view of Shepherd University in the rolling foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

While "waiting" at Shepherdstown, I began to crave the pursuit other interests. I have always credited that old woman back in Berlin, Maryland, for placing some kind of spell over me during that encounter. I was suddenly thirsty for new knowledge of a physical, as well as metaphysical, nature. I began to study Nature, to collect and study stones and minerals. I filled my pantry with herbs and spices, and explored their uses in cooking, as well as holistic healing.

An altar to Nature inside the entrance to my home.

Concurrently, I grew a hunger for knowledge of American Indian customs and lore. I bought myself a cedar, Native American flute, and began teaching myself to play. For nothing more that its spiritual benefit, I added a Native American deerskin drum to my collection. Occasionally, I would drum while meditating. Playing both instruments was very spiritually uplifting and soothing to the soul.

American Indian crafted cedar flute and deerskin drum.

I spent more time outdoors amid the trees than I did indoors. One favorite tree I dubbed my "Thinking Tree." I would sit beneath it for hours, and when inspired, I would write. When I was not sitting under that tree, I would be laying out in the hammock between two apple trees in my yard, or tending a fire at my fire pit - wooden staff in one hand, poker in the other. There was something so naturally appealing, so wonderfully primitive, communicating with Nature.

It was during this period of natural discovery that I encountered student-created art on display at the University Bookstore. Being all about students and all about art, I was quite vulnerable. I visited daily when on campus and spent long moments pouring over the pieces. One submission spoke loudly to me. The more time I spent with it, the more I had to have it. Eventually, many of the works became priced for sale. After two more weeks of tormenting myself over the cost of the one I dearly loved, I finally caved in and bought it.

Pencil sketches by an art major at Shpeherd University, Shepherdstown, WV

It was an intricate, detailed pencil sketch of Hansel and Gretel, drawn by a former student of mine. The set of two 8.5" X 11" drawings wreaked of Nature. How could I resist? The student had so cleverly inscribed the entire story into the bark of the trees on one piece of the work. That aspect is what truly sold me.

The drawings reminded me of my own growing desire to live out my life somewhere deep within a forest. I was experiencing an awakening within myself. I was beginning to listen to my inner spirit. Finding myself opening more freely to Nature, I grew more aware that I was beginning a spiritual transformation into a mountain man, a shaman, of sorts. The vigorous study of herbs, minerals, the elements of Nature, and American Indian lore, were teaching me to "walk in the ways of the wise," as it were, along the path of hedonistic pagans throughout history, who sought to understand, and use Nature for health and for the betterment of mankind.

Yielding to the call of Nature, and adopting a simple lifestyle, is epitomized, and has been immortalized in Henry David Thoreau's Waldon. I have been a fan of Thoreau's writing, but more so with his life. It is my wish, my fantasy, to live just as simply as he did for his two years on Waldon pond. I would love to build myself a small, austere dwelling somewhere in the woods, preferably – you guessed it - in the mountains. Waldon became my Bible.

Cover of "Walden or Life in the Woods" by Henry David Thoreau.

Just like Thoreau, I would continue my study of Nature, and of the things that really mattered in life, away from the madness of the modern world, away from the artificially imposed distractions that dull our senses and prevent us from experiencing the kind of purity and simplicity of the life we were designed to live. In the words of Thoreau, "I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."  

And so, I diligently continued to teach, to learn, and to wait. I have heard you, Asheville. I have heard you.

Beautiful city of Asheville, NC set before its natural backdrop of the majestic, Great Smoky Mountains.