It was a rich and fertile forested land along the western shore of Lake Michigan, complete with an elaborate river system connecting the Bay of Green Bay in norther Lake Michigan to the Mississippi River. From the Door Peninsula to the lower basin of Lake Michigan, this territory, which would later be called Wisconsin, was originally inhabited by the Fox, Mascouten, Potawatomi and Ho-Chunk (Winnebag) native Indian tribes. And they flourished along the Menomenee, Kinnickinnic and Milwaukee Rivers.

Regardless of the specific tribe, history attests that they were a respectful and spiritual people who were known for their personal connection with and responsibility to Nature. From their children to their surroundings, careful attention to the naming of their world was paramount and intricately woven within their spirituality.

Within this land sprinkled with gentle moraines, winding eskers and occasional kettles and kames, these tribes would come to realize that the Menomenee, Kinnickinnic and Milwaukee Rivers converged and flowed effortlessly into Lake Michigan. It is here where the careful naming of this sacred place- long before it would become the bustling metropolis of Milwaukee- took place; it would be known as the "gathering place by the waters," or in the Ojibwe language, it would be forever referred to as...
                                    omaniwakiing
                  Our gathering place by the waters

Autumn remains this author's favorite season; a season whose beauty and elegance is only matched by its briefness. It is that cherished momentary view from a mountain peak, following a 12-hour hike and climb to the summit. It is that quickly welcomed handshake and medal after the completion of a grueling four-hour marathon. And it is that glorious and cooling, but ever so brief, sunset after a simmering summer day. At first glance, it may simply be seen as a brief seasonal celebration that seems to quickly usher out the summer heat and usher in the winter chill. But for the reflective eye, it is so much more. For it may very well serve as our omaniwakiing, our gathering place and reflective moment by the waters.

So much of our life, my friend, seems to be filled with ongoing periods of great activity and upheaval, forever connected by brief moments of quiet and reflection. And while the length of time spent in our activity and upheaval seems to far outweigh our moments of quiet, the irony ultimately lies in these brief lulls and reflections. For it is these brief moments of comfort, these events of rejoicing, and these milestones of marketing that subtlely, but significantly, bring greater definition to the rest of our life. They set the pace and practice of our journeys to follow. They accentuate and record what we have learned- and have not learned yet- in our busied adventure through Life. And they invite us to develop clarity, closure and questions on so much of our unexamined life.

We gather together in momentary silence to acknowledge the departure of a friend or family member. We gather in joyous jubilation at the union of loved ones and on the anniversary of one's birthday. We stop for a brief time to glance at the wonder of Nature, be it a sunset, a canyon, or a starlit night. We hug and kiss our loved one in passing each morning on the way to that first cup of coffee. We gather together for a brief moment each week to acknowledge and praise our Higher Presence and we offer a hurried word of thanks in prayer each day. We take a moment for cursory congratulations to a colleague or ourselves on a significant accomplishment. And we frantically gather digital images and mementos all along our activity-strewn life, so as to allow a nostalgic peer backward in the years to come.

Although seeming as insignificant and fleeting as the season of Autumn, these are powerful moments of consciousness that provide us with poignant clarity into our actions and poise the great questions of our life. They are the punctuation of the run-on sentence of our days. They are our omaniwakiing, our gathering place by the waters; they are our precious moments of reflection, of peace and of discernment.

For me, I've discovered my omaniwakiing in several wonderful places and manners over the years. But most recently, I have truly enjoyed an unsuspecting gathering place by the waters at a gentle and modest country church in northern Minnesota. It is everything you would envision in a small country church; it is a community where the parishioners are warm and welcoming, the priest is poetic and the simple choir sings every verse of every song. And it is this parish to which I take my family each weekend that we find ourselves at our lake home during the summer months.

From the Memorial Day Weekend through the Labor Day Weekend, if you happen to find yourself in Ottertail County on an early Sunday morning, drive five miles north of the city of Ottertail on State Highway 78. Turn right (east) on County Highway 14 and drive another three miles until you've reached this small country church on the right side of the road and not far from the northern shore of Rush Lake. During these summer months (barring a summer downpour), Sunday services move from the inside of this beautiful and traditional country church to a graceful and majestic stand of birch, oak and pine just outside. And it is among this stand of trees where this omaniwakiing has occurred for so many local inhabitants and visitors over the years. Regardless of your religious affiliation, once you are seated among this canopied cathedral (especially during those brief Minnesota Autumn weekends), you will quickly realize you are on hallowed ground. It remains a glorious chance to slow down, breathe in the very essence of Life, search for answers, reconcile one's wrongs, and recommit oneself to an unending source of hope.

Over the years, my friend, you most likely have come to realize and have revisited your omaniwakiing time and time again. It may be reached by a simple outboard motor or a canoe paddle. It may be within a specific time of day or simply within the arms of loved ones. It may be along a favorite scenic drive or in a favorite comfortable chair. And looking back over this summer season, you may come to realize that your omaniwakiing has been on the very shores of your lake home; brief weekend moments to slow down, search, reconcile, and recommit along the water's edge.

It is inevitable, my friend, that a wisp of winter breeze will eventually tug at the final leaves of Autumn and this season will silently and uneventfully come to a close. So take this passing Autumn moment to draw on its wisdom and insight, while standing humbly in your personal omaniwakiing. And remember that our cherished memories of discovery, comfort, rejoicing, and hope will forever remain here until we meet again, here among our gathering place by the waters.

By Lee Hoedl

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