nature Archives - Page 8 of 70 -

Divine Madness

By Simone Lipscomb | March 20, 2022

Filled with beauty, I didn’t think I could receive any more. Yet a short distance up the trail, more cascading pools of crystal-clear, cold water greeted me. I stopped to gaze into the bubbling, churning whitewater as it leaped over moss-covered boulders. WOW, I exclaimed out loud. WOW!

A few weeks ago, the same area created the need to open myself more—to expand—to be able to take in the outrageous beauty. Like then, I stood there today laughing hysterically, tears forming in my eyes, and felt drunk on beauty, inebriated on the pure energy of this sacred place. I felt my body staggering as if under the influence of some potent cocktail; instead, my body, mind and spirit—my entire being—was in flow and balance with Nature, with all life. Completely at One.

The first part of the trail does not affect me like this. It is beautiful and wonderful there, but energetically it’s not as pure. It’s two miles up the trail when the real shift occurs. Fewer humans venture past that place so Nature is less tinkered with, abused or interfered with the farther up the trail one goes.

There are places that I call Fairy Lands after about three miles. Tiny, white flowers carpeted the forest floor today as random boulders sat stoically among massive trees. The wind tossed the tops of trees and further up the ridge, a sort of roaring, rushing sound of wind through tree limbs created a stereo effect with the music of the creek.

The rare humans one meets up there are different than those that venture only a mile or so in and then turn back, having seen enough of Nature. Those that go further and commit to experiencing Nature are changed by visiting this special place.

I was surprised today when I had such a strong reaction. I expected the awe was used up when I visited it the first time. I thought it would be pleasant and beautiful; however, I did not guess that I would go through the same feelings I did before—discomfort that I couldn’t open big enough to take it in. Yet, as I listened carefully to inner guidance, I heard: Open your heart, breathe in what you see. When I practiced that guidance, a huge shift happened within and I experienced the inebriation of Oneness, of beauty, of the pristine energies of Nature that pushed me into a state of Divine Madness.

calling my children home

By Simone Lipscomb | February 22, 2022

After a very rough few days, I decided to walk along the river and then up the closed parkway. Focusing on breathing in, breathing out I was able to come into presence with my self, the water, trees, rocks and sky. By the time I reached the parkway, I was settled down enough to get clear on what I wanted to know.

As I walked up the deserted parkway, I said out loud, “What do you want?” I repeated it as I walked, reflecting on my life’s path but asking the mountains, the Earth. Thinking about drawing early retirement funds does that I suppose. I’ve always put my soul path, my heart’s path, before financial security, so large questions loom as I contemplate the rest of my life. And the work I want to accomplish, the legacy I want to leave behind.

“What do you want?” What do you want of me?” “Why am I here?” (The little here as in geographical and the big here as in alive on the planet right now). “I’ve followed a soul path, a path of heart and given all I know to give of myself….what do you want?” Yesterday, I had reached a breaking point.

I poured a deep desire to know, so that I may serve, into the questions. I got to a beautiful overlook, the mountains standing strong and tall in the distance. I asked again, “WHAT DO YOU WANT OF ME? WHY AM I HERE?”

Then I shut up and stood there gazing into the mist, the leaf-bare mountains staring back at me. Finally, I heard as clear as someone standing next to me, “I’m calling my children home.”

I burst into tears as recognition flooded my awareness. I said, “Yes, I know. I’m here. I’m listening.”

Tears continued to slide down my face as I walked. I wiped a tear with my finger and gave it to the Earth. Every cell of my body, every breath, belongs to Earth.

No other answers came but it’s enough to know I was called Home. I await further guidance.

This rock looked like a skull to me. What would it ‘say’ if it could speak?

Stay with Yourself

By Simone Lipscomb | February 3, 2022

The path of the Soul leads us ever onward to a clearer expression of our true Self. That sounds wonderful, but the journey involves stripping away everything that isn’t who we are…in our truest expression of that spark of Cosmic Light.

In other words, it can be crazy-difficult to become real.

Thankfully, we don’t walk the path alone. When we pause, breathe, and gaze into the face of the Unknown, we begin to see allies, helpers. My greatest allies and teachers are found in Nature. Trees, wild creatures, rocks…entire ecosystems speak to me, calm me, and help me feel less alone. Yours might be human friends or music. We all have allies and sometimes it takes a little work to find them…or let them find us. Sometimes it’s as simple as saying, “I need help!”

Almost every day, I spend time listening and allowing guidance to arise. It helps me navigate this intense time of change. Most of us are challenged with the long-term stress event caused from a tiny virus, but that’s just one expression of the many changes happening with this beautiful planetary evolution taking place-an evolution I consider to be of deep spiritual healing for our planet and all Her beings. But let’s face it, growth is rarely easy because it involves releasing that which no longer serves us…even if it has been a big part of our lives.

It could be a person we release, an old version of our self we say goodbye to, an old habit that is holding us back. Evolving might involve a move to a new place geographically or simply a new place within our own skin.

I wrote a few weeks ago about a large rock in the middle of a creek teaching me to stay present with myself. That teaching has taken root and expanded. Last week, a week of truly hellish pressure from many parts of my life, I kept hearing, ‘stay with yourself.’ As external events unfolded, I found myself in the future or the past and that inner voice would come alive….‘stay with yourself.’

When we allow our minds to race into the future or stay stuck in the past, we totally abandon our self in the present moment. My experience was like being a child in a really scary place and having the adults rush ahead or backwards to tend to random events while leaving me alone and afraid. ‘Stay with yourself,’ I kept hearing. ‘Stay with yourself.’

When I can breathe in this moment and be aware that I am breathing, I become master of my life in that moment. Thich Nhat Hanh reminded us of that truth. So, my goal is simple: breathe in and know that I am breathing in. I practice this on my walks in Nature these days and it makes all the difference. I’m not running in fear to the future or the past. I’m just ‘breathing my body,’ recognizing the beauty of the trees or the river, the otter or elk or rock…or this life form known as Simone.

True transformation is wildly supported as we learn to stay with our self.

Long After

By Simone Lipscomb | November 8, 2021

The clear, cold water moves through me still. Long after four blissful hours are over there remains inner clarity and flow. My cells were changed, cleansed, and made new. The trout swim within me; I am part of the river, still with them.

I close my eyes and sense the inner sparkle. Things were laid down in that river; burdens left behind to be carried on the currents of flowing water…down, down, down over rocks and waterfalls, scrubbing away the heaviness so that by the time they reach the sea, those burdens are only sparkles of light, released from constriction, freed from bondage.

I give thanks for wild places.

Time Stood Still

By Simone Lipscomb | October 24, 2021

It was 45 degrees when I arrived at the gravel parking lot, just as official sunrise happened. Just as the mist was rising over the 52 degree water. Just as the colors were beginning to show in the trees. The magic space between darkness and full light. On the West Fork of the Pigeon River, the sun took a few more hours to peek out from behind the mountains. Those minutes could have ticked off very slowly, waiting for the warmth of the sun to kiss my face and hug my body, except time stood still. Cold didn’t matter. Discomfort of holding one position a long time didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the magnificent beings I encountered.

Time might have first stood still when I watched the huge, fat brown trout—just two feet from my boots—for almost an hour…or two…who knows when you’re in no time. Or perhaps when that trout’s friend arrived and both hulks gazed at my flies as they floated overhead. They didn’t want a dry fly, a nymph or a wet fly. I’ve never tried so many flies working one fish, two fish. But what an amazing experience to drop into fish time, which is really no time, and merge with water, flow, leaves, rocks in that space of Oneness.

As the sun topped the mountain, the colors became so intense!

It reminded me of diving in Bonaire, my favorite dive destination, and stopping in a place where a fish or sea turtle was there and just hovering in no time while observing as part of the underwater community. Today, I was a gray rock. Only moving my arm to gently toss the line…it wasn’t a cast really…upstream of the small gathering of the trout giants. It felt like I was standing there hanging with friends. No need to talk, just hang out and enjoy the day. And watch the silly fly fisher’s flys float down the river.

Thanks Shawn for sharing this image of me trying to remove the hook…

Once I let the fly float past and kept watching the big trout. A smaller trout downstream grabbed the fly but I was too slow, my attention being on ‘brown beauties.’ It flipped off the hook. But I cast to the far side of the river and after two or three casts had a nice little brown trout on the line. I landed it in the water at my side and I knelt to remove the barbless hook but it wouldn’t come out of its lip. I reached for the hemostats and the fish swam off, with the fly. (It was a good lesson in using my net. Usually I can reach down and just touch the hook and it falls out but today the net would have helped contain the fish and then I could have removed the fly and released it. I have been told the fish can rub the fly out of their lip and the secretions from their mouth dissolve the hooks within a couple weeks. But I don’t want any fish to suffer because I was not diligent with my fish-handling skills).

I turned my attention back to the big brown trout and they wanted absolutely nothing to do with me. So I moved from the center of the river to the bank and switched flys. I sat on a large rock and for a lark tossed out the fly. A nice rainbow trout bumped it, took it under, and generally played with it every time it floated past. It was that kind of day. Yes, we see your amazing fly. No we don’t want anything to do with it.

Always check with your wading staff to see if the leaves are on the bottom or are floating. This one almost led to a good dunking.

The fish, for the most part, were just not that interested. A guide we passed said they had the same thing happening. Some days trout play, other days they won’t. But for me, when I can stand in a river for an hour watching two trout, that’s as close to bliss as I can be unless I am diving.

There were other trout and attempts and they all said, meh. But what a fabulous morning. Almost five hours fishing, standing in flowing water.

I suspect brown trout are masters of time for they led me into no time. In their world, I spent hours of being present with beauty, abundant beauty, that is magnified exponentially by forgetting everything else except what unfolds each moment.