Leisha A Lesson from the Magical Forest Experience
I was chatting with a friend this morning about the years I lived in the Magical Forest at Chiruisco. That happened after I first moved to Ecuador. As we talked, memories I hadn’t visited in years came flooding back.
I could see the old Fique trees beside the river, the winding pathways, and the outdoor kitchen. Additionally, the tree-house where I slept, and the fabric walls gently moving in the breeze, came to mind. It reminded me of a lesson that has shaped my entire life. Even though I didn’t fully appreciate it at the time.
At this time, I had very little money and what money I had I need to build shelters that were more like camping areas. Living in the forest was partly a choice, but it was also a necessity because it was what I could afford. Looking back, I realize that while I was poor financially, I possessed something that many people spend their lives searching for. I had time, and I had an abundance of it. It was such a blessing.
Time in the Forest
Every morning I woke before the sun with a sense of excitement. Also, I could not wait to get into the gardens and begin creating. I believe I became known over time as the crazy lady who swept the forest pathways. But I loved welcoming people into a place that felt organized, peaceful, and alive. Some days were spent building sleeping platforms or working on the outdoor kitchen. Other days I planted food, moved rocks, or shaped another part of the forest.
I also built a tree house bedroom with no walls. The trees and fabric around me became part of the room. The forest became my home, and every day I added another small piece to it. It become an extension of me.
There was never a grand master plan. I simply worked with what the land offered me. One day it seemed obvious that a path should curve around an old tree instead of cutting across its roots. Another day I would clear brush, plant something new, or build a place where someone could sit quietly and watch the river. The forest slowly revealed itself, and because I wasn’t rushing to the next appointment or the next deadline, I had the time to notice what it needed.
Eventually, people began to arrive. Backpackers, volunteers, travelers arrived. We shared meals in the outdoor kitchen and slept beneath the trees. I cooked for them, we became friends and somehow the forest began to support me. There was just enough money to buy food, enough to keep creating, and occasionally enough for a trip to the coast.
By most standards I was poor, yet I never remember feeling poor. I felt incredibly wealthy because my days belonged to me.
Nature taught me something during those years that I continue to see every day at Living Ground. Nothing truly alive can be hurried. Everything has its own season, and time is the quiet force behind every transformation. Many share with me I get a lot done in a short time. Perhaps that is not true, though. I just deal with my time in a different way than most.
I have come to realize that good time management is not about fitting more into a day. It is about understanding that some things require your hands, while others simply require your time and patience. I can build a pathway, plant a tree, or prepare a meal. But I cannot hurry a seed to germinate or a flower to bloom. Nature taught me that there is a time to work with all your energy. And a time to step back and simply allow life to unfold.
Both are equally important.
I planted Jasmine vines on some arbors 4 years ago. I wondered more than once if they would ever cover the form the way I had imagined. Then, almost without warning, they seemed to wake up. Today they are climbing over everything, reaching toward the trees and filling the air with fragrance. The time has come to trim its’ overgrowth
The same with the mango trees. For many years they stood healthy and green without producing flowers or fruit. They weren’t failing. They were preparing and growing wiser.. This year they are covered in blossoms, and tiny mangoes are beginning to appear. If I had judged them from one season alone, I would have completely misunderstood what was happening. And, most want results NOW. The curse of time!
The soil teaches the same lesson. A compost pile doesn’t become living humus in a weekend. A damaged piece of land doesn’t recover after one rainfall. The microbial communities beneath our feet slowly rebuild relationships with one another. The land gradually comes back to life and the soil players eventually return to be a part of that system. Much of that work happens where we cannot see it, yet it is happening every single day.
People are much the same. We often become discouraged because we cannot see change from one day to the next. Healing feels slow. Learning feels slow. Building something worthwhile feels slow. Yet if we step back and compare where we are today with where we were a year ago, the changes can be remarkable.
Perhaps that is why I have always protected my time so carefully. I have never liked wasting time. If I walk across the property, I naturally notice something that needs to be carried, put away, watered, or repaired. I don’t think of it as working harder. It is simply the way my mind works. I learned many years ago that small moments, used well, become extraordinary accomplishments when enough of them are added together.
I wake around four o’clock most mornings, naturally. Those quiet hours before sunrise are among the richest parts of my day. I make coffee, organize my thoughts, think about the work ahead, and spend time simply observing the spaces I live in. Before the world becomes busy, I have space to think and I get a lot accomplished. Those hours are an investment, not a luxury.
When people visit Living Ground, they often notice what is here today. They see the gardens, the cafe, the apothecary, the hostel the workshops, and the growing collection of herbs and fruit trees.
And, soon they will also see a new spa and treatment area beginning to take shape. Our new project has begun.
Some may think we are constantly starting new projects. I don’t see it that way. Living Ground has always been one project. It is all connected. There is a part of me that wishes and desires more time to be as creative as I as in the forest. That time is near. I can feel it.
Each part and project has grown naturally from the one before it. Healthy soil led to growing healthy food. The gardens led to the cafe. The herbs led to the apothecary. Studying the human terrain through live and dried blood analysis deepened my understanding of the connection between our internal microbe and the living soil beneath our feet. The books, workshops, courses, and now the spa are simply new ways of sharing the same ideas.
The new spa is not about luxury. It is another place where people can slow down long enough to experience what we have been building here all these years. They will spend time in the sauna, receive herbal treatments made from plants growing just outside, enjoy nourishing meals prepared from the gardens, learn about their own internal terrain, and experience how food, soil, microbes, plants, and people are all part of the same living system. One day we will offer compost mud baths.
Looking back, I don’t wish I had more money during those years in the Magical Forest. More money might have made life easier, but I doubt it would have made it richer.
The greatest gift I had was time. Time to observe, make mistakes, to imagine, to build and to create something slowly enough that it became part of me.
Money has helped Living Ground grow but it is a time and effort, our focus and vision that has been the driving force.
Time has been. That lesson has never left. Every pathway, every tree, every article, every workshop, every conversation, every compost pile, every meal, every client, and every new project has been built one ordinary day at a time. Those days accumulate almost unnoticed until one morning you stand back, look around, and realize something extraordinary has grown.
That is the way nature works. Perhaps it is also the way a meaningful life is built.
Time is more precious than money!
