Tag: Nature’s Teachings
I Wept This Morning

I Wept This Morning

By |

My feet were wet with dew and covered in dirt. I got out early, before the heat, to pick blueberries. The tufted titmouse fussed at me, but I promised to leave plenty for her family. 

As I contorted myself under the graceful, loaded branches, I whispered words of gratitude. Not just for the delicious berries, but for the hour spent among their branches, feet grounded, present with abundance and nutrition and beauty. I am in awe of how the bushes have ripened their berries in stages, providing non-stop giving for weeks now. 

After picking berries, I went inside. The kitchen counter held my hands as tears rolled down my face. How can this be our country? How can we be at risk of losing our freedoms….to love who we love, to have public lands for all life to en-joy, to have clean water and air, to have true freedom of religion/spirituality, to receive the money we paid into our government retirement accounts all our lives when we come of age, to make decisions about our own lives and bodies. I felt the weight of all of this and much more and felt a moment of panic. I thought: What if we, as a country, go down the dark road that is being offered?

I pondered the turning point at which we find ourselves as tears flowed. There is nothing to be gained from arguing or standing off against our neighbors who think differently than us. That only strengthens those who wish to divide us, as a means to receive votes, to gain more power, more money. The only way through this insanity is to lay down our weapons of hate, aggression, judgment, and cultivate love in our own hearts. Not forcing anyone else to do so, but traveling so deeply into our own hearts that we root out the very things we see in others and are against yet reside buried within ourselves.

And, of course, vote and support those who align most with our values. 

I want to explore my own heart and breathe into it to cleanse it, heal it of the negativity that I erect as a wall to protect against those that I think of as my enemy. It’s not easy when I feel threatened. When I feel fear. It’s what I can do in this moment, to support my personal journey through the collective experiences happening.

We have an opportunity for massive healing in our country by turning our attention to the wounds within that keep us stuck in fear: hate, anger, aggression, judgment. Not from pointing fingers at anyone who disagrees with us, but by journeying into our heart and cultivating love. 

A flower growing amidst the blueberry bushes also brings such joy

My choice is to turn the light on my heart, to heal and support myself. It will keep me from staying in panic mode or endlessly spiraling from a feeling of powerlessness. I have the power to heal my heart, to love and work very hard to let nothing and nobody cause me to create or cultivate hate or violence–of words, thoughts, actions.

Nobody can take away my ability or capacity to love. 

Amidst the insanity of fighting, finger-pointing, violence in our country, my time with the blueberry bushes continues to be a time of healing, of receiving. A time of cultivating love.
Feeling It

Feeling It

By |

I’m sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch. Clouds hug the mountains. The air is still. Sweet bird song, along with the occasional caw caw caw from the crow friend, is the soundtrack to the early Smoky Mountain morning. (The photo is from yesterday’s Smoky Mountain adventure).

When I awoke, I looked at the time…I’d been on the trail 45 minutes yesterday the same time. Heading up to Mt LeConte in the muggy warmth, already having walked through the pre-dawn shadows of the night before and welcoming the light. 

Reflecting on the experience, rocking amid clouds, appreciating the extra sleep, I consider this well-loved trail. It’s a demanding trail due to elevation gain and technical challenges, but it’s a most beautiful trail with a clear mountain creek escorting hikers for the first mile or so before it enters a rock arch. It then begins to climb toward the beauty of Alum Cave, the destination of most hikers. After the ‘cave,’ the elevation gain begins to get serious, and it only stops just before arriving at LeConte Lodge…but begins again as the summit and Cliff Tops is visited. It’s a 12+ mile hike up and down Alum Cave trail if you visit the summit and Cliff Tops. And it is hard. 

So, I sit rocking, appreciating the singing birds and the clouds drifting through the trees. Reflecting. Remembering. Feeling it. Not in the physical body so much. Sure my feet are a little tired but they are after any longer hike. Not that kind of feeling it. But…feeling it.

I took my GoPro camera and videoed parts of the hike with the intention of putting a little video together for those curious about the trail or those who will never be able to hike it but want a glimpse of it. As I processed the video, I smiled as I heard myself, in the video, comment about the views or laugh at a steep drop-off beside the trail. I realized how open my heart was with the mountains, clouds, trees…the pack llamas, the deer mouse. My true self shines as I open to the beauty. Not just with this trail, but with Nature all the time. I just inadvertently documented it yesterday with the videos. 

For many, many years I’ve been hearing to deepen with Nature, and I’ve done that with diving, off-road cycling, fly fishing, hiking, photographing Nature…many outdoor experiences over several decades. The deepening continues as I recognize the opening of my heart to feel, to connect with a tiny deer mouse in the trail, or a pack llama, or a tree, a passing cloud, or my dogs as they push against me, the hound resting his big head on my keyboard and gazing into my eyes with longing, with love. 

When I spent a year documenting the BP Oil Spill, something closed within me. It was nearly unbearable to witness the carelessness of humans, disguised as crude oil, spread across beaches, floating in water, dispersed to hide it, which made it even more deadly…yes, my heart was challenged to feel much of anything then. Those scars are still there, but immersing myself in beauty creates openings that allow my heart to soar again, to embrace Nature with such deep love. 

I feel the Oneness with Nature. Always have. That’s why witnessing the darkness of human behaviors with the crude oil disaster was overwhelming and I had to shut down a bit to survive mentally, emotionally, spiritually. But now….14 years later…I understand more about what it means to connect deeply with Nature and because we are part of Nature, how we are harmed when Nature is harmed. When Nature flourishes, we flourish.

More crows call now. A hummingbird just flitted by. Clouds still tickle treetops. My thoughts briefly turn to breakfast…blueberries from my garden…as I sit in communion with the forest around me, grateful to be feeling it. 

Here’s the video:
In Clouds

In Clouds

By |

High elevation hiking to beat the heat gave the perfect Smoky Mountain experience early this morning. Thick clouds blanketed the mountains. White mist blew across the road as I drove to the trailhead. 

It felt strange to start a hike going downhill, but to get to Andrews Bald, that’s how it goes. It stands at 5860 feet and the trail head is at 6350 feet.  The cloud base was far below that elevation. And it was magnificent.

Wet rocks, lush ferns, water hugging my face as the clouds blew across the trail…perfect. Bird song so sweet my smile never faded. The forest feels close, so close, at these higher altitudes. Trails are carved from rocks and meander between fraser fir and red spruce trees. The smell of the firs intoxicates me every time I’m with them. It’s as if that fragrance calms me, steadies me.

When the trail isn’t cluttered with hyper, human energy and chatter, I’m able to connect deeper with my friends–rocks, ferns, trees, birds, flowers–and hear their voice so much clearer. The same can be said when I am able to stop my internal chatter. 

Clouds act as my guide to inner stillness, inner quiet. They open me to experience the forest from their perspective: moist blankets that wrap everything in their beauty.

The flame azaleas were a sharp contrast to the grays and whites of the clouds.

After enjoying the colorful, fiery beauty of the azaleas, I hiked the Bypass Trail up to the top of Clingman’s Dome and enjoyed being above the forest in the clouds.

I feel at peace, joyful, and grateful to connect deeply with the spirits of the forest. Go outside…find your inner quiet and listen to the wonders of Nature.
Threshold of Something New

Threshold of Something New

By |

I feel change coming. Big change. I feel the old ideas and ways fading, dissolving and something new coming; however, I don’t know what ideas will grow from seeds planted long ago.

Being in a the threshold of change is challenging. The threshold is a place of transition where we leave one place and enter a new one. It can be uncomfortable, scary even. Sometimes, it’s a quick occurrence; however, I tend to sense things coming long before they arrive, so the threshold can seem like a very long tunnel leading to some unknown place.

In the past, I’d expend a lot of energy trying to figure out what the ‘new’ was going to be. Often, when I sensed this kind of change, I’d rush ahead and try to begin building something new before the old had finished its death dirge. That only created more stress and rushed something that wasn’t ready to be birthed.

So lately, I am acknowledging the sensed changes and simply allowing them to have a full and complete, un-rushed passage of decrease, of release. I’m not trying to figure out the next step. I’m simply letting go and remaining open to the Path opening before me as I rededicate myself to serving Earth Mama. 

In this place of letting go….in the stillness, in the waiting…I feel total trust.

—

As I was uploading photographs and finishing this essay, I decided to pick up my book, Book of Nature, and ask for wisdom to be shared. I randomly opened to this page… “Release….Step from the perceived safety you know into the vast Unknown. Shed layers of fear and doubt. There is something beyond the physical existence of flesh and bone. You already know the Mystery; it is within you, encoded into every cell.” And this photograph was paired with those words….
Sisterhood of Lady Slippers in the Cathedral of Light

Sisterhood of Lady Slippers in the Cathedral of Light

By |

Do I kneel in the mud and allow tears of joy to merge with raindrops on the tender petals of the lady slipper? 

Do I sing hymns of praise for wildflowers?

The thought arises to place my hands in the cool mud and paint my face in solidarity with Earth and all growing things.

Maybe I should photograph her ladyship, to show the voluptuous curves of her pink belly.

Perhaps I can create a song to sing to my granddaughter to tell of all the flowers in the woodland.

How do I endure beauty so overwhelming? I feel I’m about to erupt from my skin, like an explosion of light from a star? 

Sing? 

Weep?

Shout with joy?

Dance…no, no dancing because I am surrounded by tender beauties that must be protected so I must be still.

It is difficult to know what to do in the presence of profound beauty. How can I take it in? Dare I even attempt it?

How can I receive the beauty, the unexpected beauty, that simply shows up? The surprise of beauty. How do I take that in?

I want to do something to express the awe I feel, when all I really need to do is be there, be present. Be open. Breathe in. 

A couple years ago I had a very clear message from Nature as I was walking in the woods. The message was, When Nature gives me a gift, I have to learn to receive it. My first reaction is often to capture it with photography. It’s harder for us to fully receive the gift of that beauty when we interrupt the receptive moment of awe to ‘do’ something other than be in the present moment breathing. We can simply pause and breathe with the flower or tree, the river or hawk, and let go of words, drop deeper into stillness with the beauty. The frustration can then fade as we open even more fully to receiving.

Breathing in…thank you, I see you, I feel you. Breathing out….this is me, here’s my open heart. This is who I am. This is me. Breathing in, I take in the beauty, the essence of the flower; breathing out, I have the courage to show the flower who I am. This is my heart. This is me. You and I are one. Absolutely, we are one. 

—

An expanse of lady slippers was unveiled due to a blown-down where trees obliterated the trail and a detour was necessary. In wandering around the massive pile of trees and attempting to find our way forward, we discovered a secret wooded area of lady slippers. We would never have seen these precious flowers had we not had to find an alternate path. It felt as if we were invited into a secret initiation of the Sisterhood of Lady Slippers in a Cathedral of Light. And we said….Oh! YES! And THANK YOU!