September 8, 2020. This is my wake-up view, before I even leave my tent. It’s 50 degrees, and my cozy camper is just 30 feet away. So why am I sleeping here?
Look again. That’s why.
Nature is so close, in a tent.
I’ve been sleeping in tents since my teens. I made some adjustments as I got older. I use a thick blow-up mattress now, and a down pillow. My tent must have huge windows so I can see the night stars and the morning sun. It must have room for a chair so I can sit and read. If electricity is available, I’ll use a fan or a heater when necessary. I may even have wine.
Some friends ask,”What are you trying to prove?”
I’m not making a point. I’m making memories.
When I’m on the East Coast, I camp out often when weather allows. I’m usually alone and like it that way. In that urban environment, I seek out solitude so I can hear my thoughts.
But here at Camp Many Moons, I’m often alone. I’m usually outdoors. My camper has a great view. I have a meditation path, for pete’s sake! So I understand my friends’ confusion.
The truth is, it’s not always pleasant in spite of my comfort-touches. I often don’t sleep well, awakened by the arrival of wind or the scratching of a small animal or the worry of rain.
And yet. Sleeping in a tent brings me back to my roots somehow, in a way I can’t explain.
Those roots prompted me to develop Camp Many Moons. The same roots send me into my tent. To listen. To watch. To wonder.