Nature Photography Archives - Page 91 of 116 -

Medicine for My Soul

By Simone Lipscomb | September 7, 2014

The heavy cloud-bank hugged the top of the mountains. Insubstantial in the physical realm, the ethereal beauty made it appear solid, like a living thing.

I don’t know why the first sight of mountain peaks makes me feel safe, secure and at home. I am mermaid by birth but these southern mountains feel like home for me. And it’s been that way since I was a kid. The Smoky Mountains were always my first choice for family vacations. And once there, I didn’t want to leave. On childhood visits I remember a deep sense of sadness when I had to leave with my family to return to the Alabama coast.

Several years ago my life-long dream of living in the mountains came true and I purchased a mountain home in Asheville. Equipped with a huge wall of windows and cathedral ceilings, I lived in a true Tree Church. But big water called me to Her and I sold my home and moved back to my place of birth.

Inspiration feels like work for me in the flat, coastal land…my soul feels lost. But one glimpse of the magnificent cloud, rolling and caressing the high peaks, and I felt alive again, at home with myself again.

The most productive and creative part of my life was while I lived on the side of a mountain. The sensation was one of expansion, of reaching out to touch something bigger than me….that was also reaching out for me.

Florida is where I’m ‘supposed’ to be this weekend. I had planned to be cave diving through the clear, underground aquifers in north Florida with friends but last week I had a strong inclination to change gears and visit ‘my’ mountains…perhaps as a way to fix the malaise in which I’ve found myself over the past year….or more.

Sure enough, as soon as I saw the mountains enveloped by cloud I felt aligned, at home with myself and at peace. I felt I could breathe again. How can I bottle this and take it back to my cottage on the coast?

It’s odd, seeing that I feel at home diving underwater with rays, fish and coral more than I do walking among humans. So why are the mountains…specifically the Smoky’s, my spiritual home? Do they remind me, like being underwater, of my inner wild woman? Or some past from another time?

Maybe no explanation is necessary. Perhaps my soul needs the vastness of the ocean and mountains, both of which call to my wild spirit. Here, nestled among the oldest mountains on the planet, I feel support and love from the Earth herself. I feel myself breathe and expand and connect with Spirit effortlessly. This is Medicine for my soul.

Staying Open

By Simone Lipscomb | August 24, 2014

Today was the last day of sunrise sea turtle patrol for me but I was fortunate in that I got to sub for another team member on Friday so two sunrises on the beach this week. And that’s when it started…two days ago…a nagging question.

Six o’clock found me struggling through soft, white sand as I walked the mile and a half route. It was a lovely morning with the Gulf of Mexico sending small, sweet waves onto the shore but I felt nothing. And I noticed that nothingness. It surprised me. Usually I’m in tune with the salt water and happy vibes are pouring out from my heart and mind but that day it felt like a vacuum where my heart was. I couldn’t connect.

It bothered me and as I walked I pondered that feeling of the ‘booooinnng’…like the beauty and light and delight bouncing off a closed door. Why am I closed? What’s happening, I wondered. So I journeyed inward and explored a bit.

I felt the sea reaching out with her watery fingers, trying to find an answering response from me but I remained shut down, distracted. My mind wandered and found a question: Am I closed down because of fear? Do I fear losing this beauty and so I’m acting like it’s already gone?

And then I wondered if we do that with each other. Do we allow fear to close our hearts and minds rather than remain open? Is this what keeps us from connecting with friends, lovers, partners? Are we so afraid of getting hurt that we refuse to open our hearts?

Today’s walk was better but if felt like I was in quick sand. The fluffy sand seemed to suck my feet so I stopped several times and just stared out over the water. What’s happening? I’m strong and fit so why is this so difficult?

During one of my pauses I thought of the list of sad things happening to and on our planet: Hurricanes in the Pacific, tropical storm in the Atlantic, earthquake in California, volcano erupting in Iceland, ebola in Africa, Russia invading a sister country, Israel bombing apartments and schools in the Gaza strip, the Middle East about to go up in flames, fracking by the fossil fuel industry, oil spill fallout in wildlife species, police officers shooting unarmed kids, people fighting each other over other violence…..dear God…how are any of us sane? And I don’t watch the news….this list is simply from an occasional view of NPR news.

I realized that part of my not connecting to nature is a deep concern that we’re basically going to reach a tipping point from which we cannot recover. The emotional toll of the BP oil spill was gruesome in my life yet I clearly see what can happen if we stay closed and refuse to work together for solutions…for the environment, social ills, violence. Closing myself off is a protection. But it does nothing to make positive change.

It’s difficult keeping an open heart and mind when it appears as if everything is failing; yet, there is no more important time to be open and allowing of the connection between myself and nature, myself and others than now. The challenge we all face is staying open when nothing is scarier. Now is the time for courage. It is the time for love and open hearts…and minds. How can we create a safe place to be open?

Who Squealed Louder?

By Simone Lipscomb | August 6, 2014

A balmy 97% humidity made it feel as if I was paddling my SUP board through water instead of on water. So close to the consistency of liquid was the atmosphere that I was soon drenched as I got into my fitness groove.

No air stirred, and the reflective river’s surface was only broken by mullet, alligator gar and bumblebees. Two of these flying wonders were upside down creating small ripples. I love bees and always stop and lend a paddle blade to rescue them so the two fat-bodied, pollen-toting creatures flew off to gather more pollen after a little help. I then continued downriver.

It was a hot paddle even though I started at 7am. But the playlist for the morning kept me going and before long I had paddled past the ski course, my 2.5 mile mark, and turned around. I faced the sun on my return paddle and it felt like I was being steamed alive. As fast as I drank water, I sweated it out of my body. My focus narrowed to simply getting back upriver and into the shade of the narrow part of the waterway.

Alligator gars were popping the surface as they came up for air. They can breathe underwater or at the surface and in the summer I see them from my paddle board as they pop up to breathe. I’ve had close encounters with them before and one time a large one (four feet long) surfaced at my left foot and I screamed like a kid. Since my board moves through the water silently I find myself too close often.

Today I had a particularly interesting encounter with this living fossil fish species. I was digging in, paddling hard. Jackson Browne was playing on my iPod and I was singing along…of course. “Fountain of sorrow….” and BUMP! My board was knocked. I squealed at the same time the gar squealed. I swear…I wasn’t suffering from heat stroke. The fish squealed! Either that or her armored, jagged, diamond shaped ganoid scales, that are nearly impenetrable, scraped the bottom of board and made the high-pitched sound. Or perhaps it was that double-row of sharp teeth. Regardless, I heard two squeals and can only claim one as my own.

It gave me a good laugh and brought me out of fine voice form momentarily. But I quickly recovered and went back to sweating, singing, paddling and groovin’ on this fine, summer morning on the Magnolia River.

My playlist you ask? It’s listed below in no particular order:

Fountain of Sorrow, Jackson Browne; Keep Breathing, Ingrid Michaelson; There Will Be a Light, Ben Harper; Never Alone, Lady Antebellum & Jim Brickman; Brothers & Sisters, Coldplay; Get On Your Boots, U2; Love Someone, Jason Mraz; Best Friend, Jason Mraz; Love is the Solution, Will Kimbrough; Sugar, Sugarcane Jane; My Someday, Brigitte Demeyer; Blessed Are the Brokenhearted, Jill Johnson; Washboard Lisa, Grayson Capps; Go in Peace, Sam Baker; Lift Your Spirit, Aloe Blacc; Ocean Soul, David Wilcox; God Bless, Lisa Carver; Mercy Now, Mary Gauthier; Singing Me Home, Lady Antebellum; Lost, Jay-Z & Coldplay; Knockin’, Carolina Chocolate Drops; Gypsy Train, Willie Sugarcapps; Not Alone, Ben Taylor; People of Love, Snatam Kaur; Surround Me, Ben Taylor; A Couple Hundred Miracles, Will Kimbrough; Running on Sunshine, Jesus Jackson; Beautiful, Akon, Colby O’Donis, Kardinal Offishall; Make You Feel My Love, Adele; The Whole Enchilada, Keb’ Mo’; Belief, John Mayer; …and more that I can’t remember.

Making Peace with the River

By Simone Lipscomb | August 2, 2014

The only ripples on the surface of the water were those created by mullet, alligator gars and other fish schooling. The mirror-like river seemed to breathe peace. A few months ago it was a raging torrent that brought terrible destruction that created fear and chaos but today it invited me to reconnect, to dance…to renew friendship.

As I paddled my SUP board, the carbon fiber blade sliced through liquid reflections of clouds and I felt emotions arise that took me back to that scary night when the docile river became a viciously flowing white-water river that raced through yards, homes…though lives. I realized my reluctance to paddle these many weeks since then was due to resentment or distrust I had towards the river. I had trusted it completely and then it seemed to go berserk.

Of course, it’s irrational to resent a force of nature. It wasn’t responsible for paving over acres of land in nearby towns that causes water to run off the surface rather than soak into the ground. This quaint waterway didn’t cause two feet of rain to fall in 24 hours nor did it fill itself in with sediment from development erosion. The river didn’t do any of this….it’s just a river that reacted to an event.

As I pondered the resentment and distrust I felt, I realized how closely the river mirrors my life. Recently I’ve been journeying deep within to simply listen to what I say to myself, what thoughts I think and repeat. It has not been easy. I have felt the effects of a near silent destructive force of negative self-talk. As well, my perfectionism has been a dark force in life that, at times, feels like a ton of baggage that weighs down some of my most creative ideas and endeavors.

While I want to feel that calm, beautiful peace within, there are times when it feels like a river raging through my innermost calm. Sometimes a little extra force is good but when it becomes destructive it isn’t good or beneficial.

Perhaps it takes an inner storm every once in a while to clear out what’s no longer serving the higher purpose of life; however, it’s probably much wiser to avoid creating situations that produce such intensive experiences. For instance, don’t pave over or ignore emotions as they tend to build up and become bigger than if allowed regular expression. Don’t ignore the negative self-talk that can quite literally keep us stuck, mired in self-doubt and fear. And maybe most important…be kind and compassionate to ourselves.

Today as I paddled in the early-morning calm, I made peace with the river; I made peace with myself.