The healing grace of living and walking in the countryside.
These photos are from my village which sits at the base of the Saint Baume Mountain. The ancient stone bridges are at the Source du Nans natural park about a mile from our home. Chelsea and I strolled Gabriel there to put his feet in the ice-cold natural spring which is said to be the tears of Mary Magdelena (read more below).
My form of physical exercise is walking. I started walking several years ago but when I went to California I picked up my pace trying to do 10,000 steps an hour and a half, by the end of my stay I could do 12,000 steps in an hour and a half though I knew when I returned to my home in France the flat land of the Sacramento valley would be replaced by the Provencal foothills. It took me a few days to reach 12,000 steps in an hour and a half. Stopping to take photos or pick flowers or admire the scenery comes after my walk. Thank you for the comments regarding my post a few days ago. I feel good and walking in nature has helped me feel this way. I haven't lost weight as some of you mentioned I am more toned and am not wearing oversized babby clothes.
We live at the base of a truly enchanted forest one with a rich history of spirituality and folklore. I found this blog post and it speaks perfectly of what I know to be true of this area.
The following text is from:
Cherry Chapman's
"Sunday, July 22, many gathered in Saint-Maximin la Sainte Baume in southern France, to honor Mary Magdalene, as they have for ages. I was unfortunately not one of them this year for several reasons.
For me, July the 22 nd has been a special day for a long time because it is the feast day of my favourite saint, Mary Magdalene.
I learned the hard way that going to the south of France during July and August is to be avoided, unless you want to fight crowds, be stuck in traffic jams and pay inflated travel costs.
Nevertheless, as the feast day approached, I found myself considering going, but decided, in the end, to wait until after the frenzied crowds abated.
Those of you who know me and who have been faithful readers of this blog, probably already know about my devotion to this saint, as I have written about her previously in a post last September 2012.
La Sainte Baume has been like a magnet that continuously keeps drawing me back to her mysterious wild beauty and sanctity.
My most recent photos were taken in May 2013, except for the torchlit procession, which I participated in several years ago.
The procession on the night before, 21 st of July, takes place in Saint-Maximin encircling the Basilica, where her relic (skull) is displayed.
I first discovered Saint Maximin La Saint Baume back in the early ’90s. I was fascinated by the rich tradition and reverence for Mary Magdalen throughout Provence, but especially in this somewhat mysterious area.
And yes, this was well before Dan Brown’s writings about her, so he had absolutely nothing to do with my own beliefs and convictions.
Provencal legend has it that Mary Magdalene, after the death and resurrection of Jesus, left the holy land in a boat with several other people, who were close to Jesus.
Accompanying her was her brother Lazarus, sister Martha, Joseph of Arimathea, her helper Sarah and several others.
The boat eventually landed at what is now known as Saintes Maries de la Mer, in the swampy part of France known as the Camargue, southwest of Marseille.
On May 24, and 25, there is an annual procession and celebration there, that reenacts their debarkation.
All were involved in the Christianization of southern France, especially Mary Magdalene. Lazarus became the first bishop of Marseille, Martha was on to Tarascon, and Joseph of Arimathea went on to found Rocamadour.
After many years of her spreading the teachings and gospel of Christ, Mary Magdalene reportedly retreated to the grotto of La Sainte Baume, where she spent her last remaining years. When she was weak and feeble, she was said to be lifted up and fed by angels.
Geographically, this sacred site is about 30 kilometers west of Marseille, and about 22 kilometers north of the Mediterranean sea.
The tiny village of La Saint Baume is at the base of the mountain, and is basically made up of the hotellerie, that has served as a place of pilgrimage for eons; having not only attracted many of the faithful but forty kings and 15 popes.
Getting there, at least from Marseille, will take you on narrow hairpin roads with steep drop-offs, enough to give anyone little vertigo.
The scenery is beautiful and the air is incredibly perfumed with wild thyme, rosemary, and lavender, as would befit the saint who is always pictured with her alabaster jar of perfume.
From afar, the landscape can appear rather arid and mountainous as it is in most of Provence. Then suddenly you feel engulfed in a thicket of cooling greenery of the Forêt Dominicale of Sainte Baume.
The Dominican brothers, who have guarded the grotto forever, attribute this unusually placed forest to the spirit and energy of Mary Magdalene.
The hôtellerie has been renovated and I was glad to note that the small chapel in back, where hangs a lovely tapestry of provocative symbolism is next on the list.
A few Dominican brothers and sisters mill around discreetly amongst the many pilgrims who come for retreats and visits to the grotto.
For those interested in staying there, the room rates are very reasonable. All the times that I was there, the meals were nice, composed of an entree, main course, cheese, and dessert, including really decent red or roses wines from the area at unbeatable prices.
I love staying in the hôtellerie for the sweet energy that abounds here and so I can be next to the rather rigorous trails up to the grotto.
There are two ways up, one in my mind more difficult to navigate than the other, but both will take you about 45 to 50 minutes of steep hiking upwards.
I consider myself pretty much in shape, with all the walking I do here, but I must admit I found myself at times getting breathless towards the summit, stopping briefly before the final onslaught of stairs you have to climb to get into the grotto.
Both trails are beautifully covered with canopies of hickory, oak, linden, and European yew, some of which all well over a thousand years old.
The Druids considered the European yew, Taxus baccata, which is indigenous to the area, a tree of death and rebirth.
How fitting that they abundantly line these paths walked by Mary Magdalene, the most faithful of all the apostles to Jesus. Legend also has that it is a pilgrimage for women’s fertility.
One of several freshwater streams rushing down the mountain is said to be sourced by Mary Magdalene's tears.
In hiking up, I could feel her heaviness of heart accentuated with each breath and pull of the muscle. The ascent is meditative, inviting us to bring forth our own tears and pain for deliverance.
As in our spiritual ascension, our awareness becomes sharper, our feelings within swirl to the surface. I found myself wondering also about all the other seekers before me who persevered up this same path with faith.
The grotto, finally reached with much gratefulness, welcomes us in her dim humid coolness. Occasion drips of water seeping out of the walls of the cave break the silent contemplation.
Votive candles everywhere flicker in the darkness, their flames beckoning hope and prayerful intercession.
The descent(opposite to what I took to ascend) was in some ways more difficult to navigate than the ascent. I passed others already exhausted, trying to climb this wildly savage trail that was difficult to decipher which turn to take next, perhaps mimicking life.
Back at the Hotellerie, one feels a quiet sense of triumph and relief from the rigors of the climb. The sacred moments of being there in her memory still linger with me.
Mary Magdalene leaves behind a legacy of faithfulness, courage, and utmost love and devotion.
In a time when women were viewed with little merits of leadership, except Jesus, who was the world’s first feminist, Mary left her country of origin for unchartered waters to preach the good news of her beloved rabbi Jesus.
Not surprisingly, She was the last to leave the crucifixion of Christ and the first to discover his resurrection.
She invoked the jealousy of the other apostles, especially Peter, who eventually usurped her power and mission to Christianize lands beyond.
Perhaps through a historical analysis of treasures, not yet discovered, or through validation of what has been uncovered, can the truth of her relevant significance be redeemed.
Though the early church fathers accorded her as being the Apostola Apostolorum, or the apostle’s apostle, the Gospel of Mary was never canonically recognized.
In 2016, Pope Francis elevated her feast day of July 22 to be included in the church’s liturgical calendar." via A Psychotherapist in Paris Blog
