I had been considering the degradation of the environment, the constant bickering in politically polarized rhetoric and my general belief that humans are self-destructive. Where else could negative behavior and negative, violent thought processes and dogmatic belief systems lead but to self-destruction? So I had this incredibly simple idea.

Perhaps skeptics might suggest that this sort of action would be wasted. But I was thinking about how millions of people are creating change through social media and the connection we have instantly to the global human population. Why couldn’t we decide to dedicate 5 minutes a day to stillness and silence? It couldn’t hurt anything and it quite possibly could make a positive difference.

In June of 1999 a peer-reviewed study was carried out in Washington, D.C. Over 4000 practitioners of meditation were housed in various locations within the DC area from June 7th through July 30th. Each day they practiced slowing their mental activity and coming to a place of inner stillness. This created within the meditators a sense of balance, order, and harmony. During this time violent crime (assaults, murders, rapes) decreased 23% in the area in which they were practicing. There was less than a 2 in 1 billion chance that other explanations (weather, increased police patrols, daylight, historical crime trends and annual violence patterns) accounted for the difference, according to John Hagelin, lead author of the study from the Institute of Science, Technology and Public Policy.

How is this possible? Through the past 25 years, researchers have conducted more than 42 studies that have verified the field effect of consciousness. Advanced understanding of physics shows that subtle energy fields are a basis of everything around us. Conclusion drawn by researchers? Human consciousness also has field characteristics at fundamental levels. The meaning? What we experience, think, feel, do affects everything around us.

When we think we are powerless to the insanity unfolding daily, it’s good to remember we actually can make a difference. Not by arguing a point, ranting on Facebook, name-calling people who hold different views….simply by coming to stillness, by allowing a time each day where we free ourselves from judgment, anger, politics, arguing…we can make a difference.

What if people from all over the planet decided to stop and drop into stillness? What if we dropped all words for 5 minutes a day and sat and allowed ourselves to be still and breathe? What if we stop the mental chatter, the mind games, and let go of our own opinion for 5 minutes a day?

I believe this one simple thing could change the world. What about you?

Desert Horse–Bonaire, N.A.

Later that week, a beautiful elder of the area told me the Lipscomb’s (Lypscombe) were from Devon. When I returned home I looked up a family history cousins had compiled and found that Ambrose Lypscombe was from the Devonshire line and lived in Silverton, England. He was born in 1610. His son, Ambrose I, arrived in Virginia around 1668 (called New Kent County). And the lineage progressed forward through the years as my ancestors found their way to the Alabama coast.

As I prepare to move away from the mountain that overlooks this beautiful valley, I have reconnected with my intense love of the land here. As I was approaching this area on my morning walk a few days ago, a new song I had downloaded started playing on my iPhone and suddenly everything made sense. David Wilcox sings about wanting to go to Ireland and his lyric made me stop and breathe in the significance, *”My heart is here in ways I can’t explain.”

I have pondered the deep connection I have to the Blue Ridge Mountains and the Alabama Coast. I love both places dearly and completely. I feel torn with my love of the sea and my love of the mountains.

When I thought back to my visit to Devon and Cornwall I realized that the ancestral link I have to the coast of western England is strong in my blood, in my DNA. The seashore of Alabama I love so well and the mountains of North Carolina are two similar aspects of a very significant place where my dad’s family originated. With the Wilcox song, everything clicked and I had a rather large ah-ha moment.

Understanding a bit more of my heritage gives me insight into my path now, specifically about the move south. I spent my entire childhood, teenage and young adult years wanting to get ‘back’ to the mountains. After finally moving ‘back’ I met people that provided assistance as I developed important tools for my life’s work. It was as if we arranged, before birth, to meet up on this mountain and catalyze ideas and skills. And now, I am better prepared to move forward with contributions I came to make.

The chances of me moving to England to live are rather slim; however, the inspiration it provides and the fire of love for the sea and mountains create within me the devotion necessary to commit fully to this Path I have chosen to walk.

We all make choices about how to invest our energy and talents. As I move forward in this life’s journey, my intention is to utilize the skills I have to help create positive change for life on this beautiful, water planet. I embrace the gifts the mountains and friends here have supported and helped cultivate within me and with gratitude take the leap back to the sea. I allow the ocean of life to carry me.

Lyrics from David Wilcox Ireland and Let the Wave Say:

I’ll speak the words of poets gone: my music’s ancestry
We’ll hear the voice of Ireland in the wind beside the sea
In waves of music far as I can see
The voice of every poet singing free:
Singing bring your orphan children home–to me
(from Ireland)

And the high blue wall can break you
You can never fight the sea
You just learn to let it take you
To the place you want to be (from Let the Wave Say)

I am ready to ride the wave back home. (Thanks David for the music…and wisdom!)

Riceville Valley Snow Sunrise

May peace prevail on Earth.

No matter what issues circulate in the sphere of my life, the lives of friends, communities, ecosystems….balanced with those challenges, as bad as they may be, is amazing beauty and blessings. If we miss these places and events of sheer wonder, we miss the very things that make living so awesome.

If I look with the eyes of eagle, with higher vision, I see that everything works in some wild harmony and the story goes beyond the hardships, no matter how difficult they are. When the details get too intense it is time to step back and look at the big picture. A new perspective can shift me from the ‘poor me’ or ‘oh, snap!’ place to the ‘oh, WOW!’ place of expansion and wonder.

Currently my challenge is finding myself in limbo, awaiting the chain of events that will start my move back to coastal Alabama. I’m calling in higher vision and backing away from the details for a while. I want to be present with the abundant beauty filling my life NOW!

When do you find respite by stepping back and viewing the big picture? When do the eyes of Eagle help you in envisioning your life?

I felt peaceful and quiet, encapsulated by a small radius of open water as I glided through the new year’s eve morning. No sun, no warmth, the only comfort was the shroud of containment hugging me, coating my eyelashes with tiny water droplets.

Up the west side of the bay I traveled–the mostly undeveloped side where natural marsh grasses grow in sandy soil right to the water’s edge. No bulkheads disturbing the natural flow of the tides, wildlife or sand migration. Every paddle stroke yielded sounds magnified by the dense fog….droplets of water sliding off the blade, returning with a plop into the bay from which they came; the wake of water curling off the bow of my board; my own breath, warm against the air as I pulled myself and the twelve and a half foot board through the brackish life-blood of the estuary.

Further along, the mist parted so I could see the other shore, less than two miles away. I decided to paddle across, thus making a loop on my last paddle of 2011. I glanced back over my shoulder as I reached the middle of the bay. The fog was closing in behind me rapidly. The scene reminded me of the Mists of Avalon, a favorite book of mine from many years ago.

Parting the veil is a quest worthy of any seeker.

The rolling wall of fog pushed me forward. Access to what was behind me faded as if it never existed. It wouldn’t be wise to go back, to enter a white-out and get lost. The past is done…over….gone.

I hugged the shoreline as the fog intensified and made my way back to Mobile Bay. I didn’t want to spend new year’s eve paddling in circles in the bay so I kept the shore within sight. Years ago I was paddling my kayak in a large, fogged-in lake and lost my way by failing to follow the shoreline (and not having a compass on board). I nearly paddled over a dam (or close enough to make my legs shaky). Reflecting back, I saw where I have managed to learn a lesson or two that has gotten me safely through almost of all of 2011 and the years in-between.

Past skeleton piers and roosting shorebirds I glided. Slowly I maneuvered over pieces of broken piers, buried in the shallow water. I was in no hurry to reach my destination given the lack of visibility and snags floating just below the surface. Plus, I was enjoying the beautiful white cloud I was moving through and was not eager to step out of the other-worldly realm created by the bay, water and fog.

The solitude was a gift bestowed by the fog as it kissed my cheeks and swirled around me as I remembered the secret to parting the veil.

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Polar Bear Paddle 2012–Magnolia River was a great time! Even with our small crew we had a blast exploring far up into the river in the warmish temps…and one of our crew decided to take a plunge as well but she lives in Michigan now so a little winter river water did her no harm. Happy 2012!

As I paddled through the mouth of Weeks Bay I saw cormorants and pelicans along with wintering ducks and gulls flying, floating and feasting in the brackish water. Moving further into the bay I noticed something floating ahead. It looked like a pelican but it wasn’t moving. The closer I got to it the more concern grew within me. It looked like the large bird was entangled in debris. When I slowly and quietly glided up to the bird I saw with horror and sadness the situation.

What I thought was debris was actually one of its huge wings trailing behind it as this regal bird’s long bill hung in the water. Her wing was completely broken in two and the large bone protruded from feathers and skin.

As I glided up to the bird I sat down and eased closer allowing her to understand I was not there to hurt her. Being on a paddle board I had nothing with which to perform a rescue operation. Plus, did the bird want rescuing? The stress would most likely kill the beautiful creature given her weakened state. Not knowing what to do, I simply drifted with her and asked what she needed.

As we drifted together on the surface of the bay I gently spoke to her while asking for guidance from any angels that might be about. I decided to steer her to the sandy beach to see if she could exit the water. I knew this would be the only place I could attempt to capture her, if that was the right action for me to take.

Slowly we drifted to the remote shore. When we arrived, the pelican walked out of the water and stood, barely able to support her weight. I beached my board and continued sitting on it and asking what to do. “What do you need? What can I do for you?”

With great effort this magnificent bird crawled to a small bunch of marsh grass and laid down. When she got settled she breathed deeply a few times and her body relaxed. I went to a deep place within and knew that the only action called for was to allow her to die in the sunshine among the grasses and sounds of life on Weeks Bay. Any attempt at rescue would kill her at this point. She would be better served by allowing a quiet passage rather than a traumatic one.

So I sat on my board weeping quietly, asking for angels to carry her across the rainbow bridge. After her breathing slowed I gently pushed off from shore and gave thanks to her for being a teacher for me.

Sometimes the best action is to take no action.

The next morning I paddled back into the bay. As I paddled along the shore I saw her, white head laid across her brownish-gray back. I envisioned her last breath with long bill pointed skyward as she gazed into the sky from which she had fallen.

Even though the actual Winter Solstice is December 22nd, 2011 at 5.30 GMT, 12.30am here in the mountains of North Carolina, the energy of returning light filled me and brightened my day amid gathering clouds and rain.

Thankfully it has been warm here…or warm enough. I’ve been able to be outside on my SUP board paddling the lakes around Asheville during this long wait until I move south in answer to the saltwater beaconing. I’ve begun pulling up roots from the mountains and wanting desperately to feel the water of the Magnolia River on my dried out toes and tendrils. The time between uprooting and re-planting is stressful.

While I love the mountains, winter has challenged me significantly here. Waist-deep drifts at the top of the mountain last Christmas made for great snow-shoeing yet reminded me of the tropical, warm-weather body that houses this soul. Thus far this year, really cold temperatures have remained at bay and given me a reprieve. The new owners of my home haven’t figured out this is where they’re supposed to be so at least I’ve had nice weather for water sports while they put it all together and find their way to their new home.

But this morning….what an amazing feeling to know that I have weathered another season here and am one season closer to living under live oak trees and Spanish moss with the river running her silvery tides through my life. Meanwhile the Gulf rolls to and fro, impatient and ready for me to stand as witness to her cycles and challenges. I understand impatience. I understand longing.

I spent this day closing loose ends and seeking a sense of completion to make way for the new year. The wheel turns and light returns. I survived the darkest night of the year. Joy fills me as rain softly falls on bare branches and nature too feels the stirrings of light amid the darkness.

Point of Light…within the mind of God….illuminate our way.

I felt my friends being planted alongside me. We communicated through our roots and branches as they swayed in the fresh breezes. It felt good to sink my roots into Earth. Such warmth and joy I felt as Earth’s energy coursed through my being. I tingled with excitement.

My first night, my roots already working deeper into the soil, I could stretch taller. Oh, I wanted so desperately to touch the stars, to feel their sparkle on my green fingers.

The first snow felt so wonderful. Cold it was but it blanketed me and somehow it felt right, as if this was where I belonged. And so I flourished and sang my life song with the wind and rain, stars and snow. And I heard the music of the heavens. So sweet was it in answer to the deep, resounding heart beat of Earth. The music of the spheres filled my days and nights, but especially at night could I hear it…when everything else got quiet.

So was my life until one day I saw humans, some very small, running up the path to the big trees in the neighboring field. The small ones ran and played among branches and some came over to me and started making human sounds…”Baby trees….aren’t they cute….want a bigger tree.”

I didn’t know what they meant but suddenly a loud sound erupted and I heard a big tree moan as it fell. “What happened?” I asked my friends but they didn’t know. Softly, as we listened closely, a message was passed to us from bigger trees. They said they would share the secret of our power. That captured my curiosity so I listened and this is what I heard:

“You are born for a very special purpose. You were planted on this beautiful mountainside and you grow and take in Earth’s love and care, starlight’s magic, rain’s cleansing power, wind’s song, and the passion and fire of the sun. These elements build in you and grow as you grow. Then, when the time is right, you are taken and put in a home and decorated with lights like stars and shiny things that are most wondrous. And as you stand tall in your best splendor, you slowly die. But as you do you give off your life force and all the energy of stars, sun, Earth, rain and wind that you took in is released into the human home, and maybe into the human hearts. You are a blessing and remind the people who take you, of the light and love available to them.”

It sounded wonderful yet questions bubbled up through my sap. Would it hurt? Wouldn’t I miss the mountains and birds and sun and snow?

But there was only silence.

And so I let it go and simply observed it all. Seasons of warm and cold came and went and I witnessed it all.

As I grew, every year people would come and look at me and touch me but passed me by. I wondered if I would ever fulfill my destiny.

And then one beautiful, sunny, crisp day, two people walked among our section of the mountain. One touched me and I shivered. “Take me, take me! I am ready!” They walked on. But after a while she came back and touched my strong trunk and placed her warm hand around it and I felt the most amazing sensation flow into me. I heard her words, “Thankful…grateful…welcome…I love you.”

And then I heard the saw motor and for a moment it hurt and I shivered from pain. But as I began to fall, I let go and thought, “Oh–now is my time, my purpose will be fulfilled.” And such joy I had never known.

I was wrapped tight and laid on top of a fast-moving thing and before long I was standing in water, drinking deeply for I was very thirsty. I was placed in a huge room with big windows where I can look out over the mountains.

I have sparkling white stars resting on my branches and beautiful shiny things adorning me. There are all manner of special things hanging from my branches and they feel full of memories from long ago and I hear their stories.I have heard beautiful music and singing and although it’s different than the music of the spheres, it is quite lovely. And now, it is dark outside and the woman sits below me writing down my story so others can know what I know, what I’ve learned from being a tree–a tree destined to be a magnificent Christmas tree. And so my purpose is fulfilled. And I am happy.

To learn more about my work please visit Turtle Island Adventures. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays! May we continue to learn from all that nature teaches us.