Nature's Teachings Archives

Blue Heaven

By Simone Lipscomb | January 20, 2017

In Three Sisters Spring, a highly-visited spring in central Florida by manatees and people watching manatees, there are areas set aside as sanctuaries for resting manatees. Humans are not allowed to follow them past the barriers and the manatees know this. They head to these quiet places to rest and seek respite from the colder river.

I totally understand their desire to hide from massive amounts of people in this ‘warm’ water haven. In fact, I have often wanted to request a sanctuary for humans that simply want to float in stillness and quiet rather than be among those kicking, splashing, talking, yelling or crowding manatees….where is my sanctuary?

Earlier this week I found it. Two days in a row I had the spring to myself. Well….there were fish and a cormorant and maybe a sleeping manatee but there were no other humans. I floated face down watching the spring bubble up 15 feet below me and dropped into a deep stillness that comes when I’m in water, in my happy place.

There was no splashing, no loud voices…it was an amazing experience of beauty and peace.

Ripples of light reflecting off the sand created a wave of rainbows in constant motion. Bliss…delight…wonder…awe.

Suspended weightlessly, the spring and I were one. There was nothing except those moments of harmony. What a time of renewal, of restoration.

One afternoon there was a large, sleeping manatee. I swam far away and past it to the big spring for my meditation. The manatee and I held space for each other to rest and relax with no expectations or demands. All encounters are not face-to-face. Perhaps some of the most profound are not even in close physical proximity.

I felt so alive and wonderful after spending so much time floating, drifting in stillness.

If you know me, you know I love manatees and whales and sea lions, whale sharks, dolphins….but what I love almost more than an encounter with them is giving them their space and honoring their need for rest and stillness. Cultivating respect for others…accepting their choices to engage or withdraw…and doing the same for myself leads to increased inner harmony and balance.

Wouldn’t it be great if we all could do that for each other and all species? That would perhaps be heaven. For me, it was Blue Heaven.

On Winter

By Simone Lipscomb | January 7, 2017

Winter is challenging for many, especially those of us used to wearing shorts and flip flops in January. With potential icy bridges, even my Saturday early-morning yoga class is out.

So I sit in bed, surrounded by my two boys. Buddy is curled against me as I work and Stanley is dozing at the foot of the bed. They seem quiet, reflective even. Maybe they dream of breakfast or chasing each other on wild dashes through the house. It seems they are subdued, quieter than usual.

Colder weather invites us to slow down, stay indoors and go within like nature does to survive. It’s not only about surviving cold temperatures…this going within. It’s part of the balance of growth.

There are times of intense action and growth, such as spring and summer, so there must be time to rest and recharge. John O’Donohue, in A Celtic Pilgrimage, spoke of winter as having the fullness of spring contained within it. The design, the blueprint…it’s all there in winter, at rest. And when the time is right, the plan leaps into action.

So it is with our lives. We need times of rest and contemplation to practice deep listening. These periods of going within give ideas space to grow and take root and when the conditions are right, they will burst forth with exuberance.

Grasmere, Ed’s Route and Dove Cottage

By Simone Lipscomb | November 28, 2016

The intention was to follow Ed’s Route. Ed is a friend that outlined a beautiful route through the mountains near Grasmere. He warned that it was curvy, single-lane and steep but well-worth the drive.

My friend Maria and I had visited Long Meg stone circle that morning and asked the SAT NAV system in the car to choose a route to Grasmere so we could then follow Ed’s Route he outlined on the atlas.

It had snowed earlier and the route the NAV system took us on was over mountains. The higher we climbed the more snow we found but luckily the roadway had been salted and was clear. But as I drove I knew Ed’s Route–the single-lane route up steep, winding roads–was not a good idea. The probability they had been salted was low. So I pulled over and reprogrammed the SAT NAV system to go to Millam, a town near another stone circle we wanted to visit.

I should have heeded the sign: Do not follow SAT NAV but she kept telling us to turn left after we had passed through the town center of Grasmere. Who wants to argue with an electronic voice? Up, up, up and narrow for even a small car…and oh, yes…let’s not forget the curves and moss-covered rock walls. The darling system decided to take us on Ed’s Route after all. Even when we knew it, there was no place to turn around for a very long time.

About the time I expected to find ice and snow on the pavement, a driveway appeared and I carefully turned around and headed down. Oddly enough Audi drivers don’t seem to notice how steep and curvy and narrow the roads are in the U.K. But that’s another story.

After making it to the regular narrow road, I needed to park the car and walk. I pulled into a parking lot at a cafe and realized we had stumbled into William Wordsworth’s home. But oddly, it felt as if I had come home from a very long journey, not just the one up Red Bank’s road.

I just wanted to go sit upstairs, look out of the beautiful glass window at the snow-capped mountains and write. Somewhere in my memories I remember a most pleasant experience of finding peace while gazing out of a window just like the one at Dove Cottage.

We visited the gift shop and I spoke with the guy there and as he told me of Wordsworth’s time there, my heart opened and tears came. What the heck? I was dabbing tears from my eyes in a gift shop just hearing about his writing at Dove Cottage. It was more than sharing the same birthday as William but I’m not really sure what.

We ate lunch at the little cafe nearby and had a most beautiful view of the mountains. I was not inclined to leave Grasmere.

A stroll through town and I discovered a cemetery filled with yew trees and ancient markers. I stepped into the peaceful garden while Maria chatted with someone and when I popped back out, she was gone. I wandered around after texting her to let her know where I was. The energy of the place was peaceful and deeply nurturing. It teemed with birds and as I left a jackdaw lit within a few feet of me and allowed me to use my cell phone to capture a photo. They are said to be Merlin’s magical companions. There was magic in Grasmere, no doubt.

Wordsworth was my favorite Romantic poet throughout high school and college. His love of nature was what captured my heart. He and Samuel Taylor Coleridge hiked the mountains of the Lake District and along with Beatrix Potter birthed literature that remains some of the best ever written.

At some point in this life I wish to return to live near Grasmere for a time. Six months, a year and perhaps I could find inspiration that would allow future-classic writing, painting and photography to find a channel of expression through me.

Years ago when I visited the moors of Devon in the national park there, my bones vibrated with the land. I had never felt that kind of physical connection to a place before. In the Lake District it went beyond a physical connection to the spiritual realm of heart and mind. It was home to me, where my spiritual roots are deeply anchored.

Here’s the first and last stanza from Wordsworth’s Daffodils…one of his most well-loved poems:

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o’er values and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

……

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

*My friend and spiritual sister Maria and I in Grasmere.*

The Stones Speak

By Simone Lipscomb | November 22, 2016

Day dawned dark with news from afar;

Earth, water no longer sacred?

Money won—gods of greed and tar.

Now civil rights mired in hatred.

To my knees I fell, sobs escaped my lips;

Oh, my God! Has sanity been eclipsed?

Darkness gathered and shadows grew.

Hope dimmed, panic began to rise.

My mind raced, whatever can I do?

Darkness comes in golden disguise.

A voice then came through, so clear and so loud:

“Go to the stones and walk among the clouds.”

My grief and I put on our boots

And went out in the cold and snow.

We stood with stones in armored suits

And listened as the wisdom flowed.

“It’s time to wake-up and see the truth here.

None of this matters in five thousand years.”

The stones spoke—ages, wars went by:

Ancient wisdom, patience and trust,

I saw time make the darkness fly.

Peace grew strong, swords crumbled in rust.

“This is a moment in time, a heart beat.

Cry your tears, but don’t forever you weep.”

The peace of snow and ancient times

Enfolded me with grace and calm.

I walked along those Druid lines

And there I found the sweetest balm.

“Wake up and shine and know love is the key.

This world can heal and be one, you will see.”

Magical Britain

By Simone Lipscomb | November 15, 2016

It is nearly 2 a.m. as I awaken here in the U.S. but my heart is accustomed to the beat of time in the Motherland. I would be on a rambling walk through the countryside by now in the U.K. The mists would be rising along the fells, sheep would be beginning to awaken. The sun would be low in the gray sky. The chill of the frosty air would feel so fresh on my cheeks.

*Foggy dawn below Castlerigg Stone Circle*

For over a week I was immersed in the gentle beauty of England. Her mountains, rolling pastures, woodlands, lakes, ancient stone circles and kind people surrounded me and welcomed me home.

It doesn’t matter that I had been awake for twenty-three hours and am fatigued after a nine hour flight over the Atlantic Ocean and an hour flight to the Gulf Coast and am experiencing a time warp after journeying over six time zones. Every part of my being is awake and ready to roam among ancient stone circles or greet sheep as they chew lush grass that is permanently green.

I walked paths that Wordsworth and Coleridge walked, visited areas where Beatrix Potter wrote magical children’s stories and initiated conservation practices that helped preserve much of the area now known as the Lake District. If I allowed myself the freedom of regular roaming along the shores of the water and woods and mountains of the Cumbria, I am rather sure inspiring and enchanting words would pour from my pen in the style of Wordsworth and Potter.

*Long Meg and Her Daughters Stone Circle*

Whispers of the Ancient Ones echo within as I reflect upon the otherworldly pilgrimage experienced with my spiritual sister and friend. Conversations with Companions from a weekend retreat, that closed the journey, still weave a web of light around me. My orange tabby Stanley lays in my arms as I write while my beloved Buddy dog is curled against me on the blanket. They feel the fullness and lingering energies of this most amazing journey.

Invasions by Romans, Saxons, Vikings and others have perhaps instilled into the collective unconscious of the people there a maturity of spirit, a way of being civil and gentle with each other and with strangers. Every person I met was helpful, generous, supportive and kind. I miss that kind of civility and maturity on this side of the Pond. Our nation is like a spoiled, young teen in comparison.

The individual journeys and experiences will be told over time but for now, in the afterglow of it all, I feel profound gratitude for the embrace of a land and people that welcomed me home as one of their own.

*Maria and me in Sunkenkirk Stone Circle*

My heart beats in sync with the land through ancestral ties and already longs to return and feel the ancient stones vibrate their wisdom and the land embrace me as a daughter. From magnificent caves to snow-covered mountain tops, from villages much older than the country in which I reside and stone circles dating back to 3500 BC, I traveled the path of a pilgrim–open to hearing and learning the lessons given by magical Britain, my Motherland…home of my spirit.