Nature's Teachings Archives

Life’s Compass

By Simone Lipscomb | January 9, 2016

Who Am I? Why am I here? These are common questions asked by those intent on discovering deeper meaning in life…those who search for a clearer reflection of the true self.

This time of stillness and listening during the past several weeks has produced many breadcrumbs that have led to a clearer vision for my path. Memories have surfaced, people have sent comments and reflections on my work and realizations during moments of openness and surrender during yoga classes have yielded much guidance. One memory in particular is working powerfully in my heart and mind.

My mom and I were in a grocery store when I was very young. One of her friends greeted her and commented on what a beautiful child I was. Wow, I thought. I am beautiful. After the woman walked away I asked my mom what that meant. I cannot remember exactly what my mother said but it was an encouragement to not take the woman’s comment to heart. She didn’t want me to be conceited or stuck on outer expressions of beauty. That’s the take-away now but then I remember being confused about this word: Beauty. It was a defining moment in my life.

I never thought of myself as beautiful through childhood, teenage, young adult years and even now….I didn’t want to be stuck-up or conceited..still don’t. But mostly, I didn’t want Beauty to be defined by something outside of myself. I wanted people to see me and love me for what was/is inside my heart. I always wanted boys, men, to see the real me, not the outer package….. so…..there wasn’t much dating. I didn’t focus on the outer expression of beauty…didn’t care about make-up or cosmetics or fashion because that seemed a pale expression of the beauty I found by turning inward and experiencing the fire of my heart that is pure and loving and kind or by connecting with the nature, especially animals.

That meeting, over 50 years ago, brought forth my life’s quest to explore the concept of beauty. What is it? Where is it? Is it in me? Is it in Nature? I deeply remember the encounter yet my memory might be different from the actual event. What is significant is how it affected my life.

Isn’t it amazing how one seemingly insignificant event can be a turning point in our life’s path. It was as if that moment was the cue needed to lead me on my quest, my path, for this lifetime. And I didn’t realize it until recently as I paused in stillness for weeks and simply allowed my path to unwind to the point where I could be clear before moving forward.

A few days ago I attended and photographed a workshop by Ibiyinka Alao.* In his presentation on art he said this: “An artist is a person with a hole in their heart that’s equal in size to the universe outside of them. Every time I paint a picture, I am filling this hole.” I paused and lowered my camera when he said this. It is exactly how I feel when I am hovering underwater with humpback whale mothers and babes or am nose-to-nose with a curious manatee….or standing in the warm sand at sunset experiencing the transcendental moment where my open heart meets the heart of the Ocean. If I can capture the emotions I feel during these moments and translate them, with images and writing, to others I am totally at one with my Path. When I create these translations, I feel my heart filling and reaching out to the Universe with openness and love. That is Beauty…to me.

My passion for experiencing and documenting Beauty is my life’s work. My life’s compass was set from that encounter so long ago. Gratitude for that defining moment is strong and I thank my mother for prompting me to go on the search for beauty.

What is your life’s compass? What is the ‘thing’ that brings you back to sanity amidst chaos and fear? What is it that you yearn for more than anything?

Night Before Christmas….From the Reef

By Simone Lipscomb | December 24, 2015

Night Before Christmas…Turtle Island Style

Adapted by Simone Lipscomb

From Clement Clarke Moore’s Poem

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Coral Park

Not a fish was stirring, not even a shark.

The stockings were hung on the brain coral with care,

In hopes that Santa Loggerhead soon would be there;

The Parrotfish were nestled in cocoon beds,

While visions of candied algae swam in their heads;

And daddy under his coral ledge, and I in my gap,

Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap,

When out from the deep there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the reef to see what was the matter.

Away to the drop-off I swam a fast clip,

Right through Tube Sponges and over Sea Whips.

The moon on the breast of sand, white like snow,

Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below,

When, what my wondering eyes saw from the dark,

A Giant Clam and eight big Bull Sharks,

With an ancient old driver, who looked well-fed,

I knew for certain, it was Santa Loggerhead.

More rapid than Barracuda’s his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

“Now Billy! Now Bruzer! Now, Bobby and Barry!

On Betty! On Beatrice! On Emily and Mary!

To the top of the reef! To the top of the wall!

Now dash away! Dash away Dash away all.”

As palm leaves that before the wild hurricanes fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to the reef-top the bully’s did tow,

A clam full of goodies and Santa Loggerhead, Oh!

And then in a twinkling, I heard on the reef

The gnashing and gnawing of all those shark’s teeth.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the reef Santa Loggerhead swam with a bound.

He was old and wrinkled from head to flipper,

His shell full of barnacles, but he couldn’t look hipper.

A bundle of goodies he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a diver just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled, so ancient and wise!

His head was enormous, his shell a huge size!

His beaked mouth was strong, I’m here to tell,

His overall look was really quite swell.

The stump of a Tube Sponge he held in his beak,

And Blue Chromis encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad shell and quite a round belly,

That shook, when he laughed like a Cannonball Jelly.

He was ancient and huge, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a turn of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying a flipper aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, off the reef he rose;

He sprang to his clam sleigh, to his team said, “GO!”

And away they all swam like a five knot flow.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he swam out of sight,

“Happy holidays to all, and to all a good night.”

Harmony

By Simone Lipscomb | October 31, 2015

There’s an old joke that goes: How can you tell a happy motorcycle rider? She’s the one with bugs in her teeth. As I was cycling in the pre-dawn darkness I remembered the joke. I was laughing, smiling and rejoicing in the dark, quiet stillness and wondered if I had a collection of bugs in my teeth.

Birds were just awakening and were surprised by my whirling by in a blur of neon green, headlamp and red-flashing taillight. There was pure magic in the swampy woods and live oak forests before the sun arose and dissipated the gentle energy of the inky night. How could I not smile…or laugh out loud at the depth of beauty?

Deeper into the woods, deeper inside myself I went until there seemed to be no separation. At one point it was as if I took off dark glasses, so clearly did I see and connect with the energy of the backcountry. I thought of a verse of scripture that goes something like…Now we see through a glass, darkly; someday we shall see clearly. For a brief moment I saw the Oneness, the lack of separation of this body, my consciousness, my energy field and that of the forest. I felt the deep joy that comes with the experience.

Through the marsh I pedaled with its beautiful openness barely illuminated by the rosy-orange sky. Breathing in….breathing out…the beauty filling me, my love and gratitude going into the marsh…the tall grass, flowers, water, creatures.

Then a turn to the left and a bird flew across the trail and I saw the bird as a musical note. All of creation is part of one harmonious chord. How lovely this planetary song, I thought.

Onward I moved and the realization came: When a species is threatened or in danger of extinction, the musical note it holds in the whole dims and fades and if that species disappears, there is a minor tone instead of a clear tone and the planetary music sounds mournful. The more species that die off, the more minor the key, the sadder the music of our ocean-planet home.

Likewise if a place is destroyed the particular note it vibrated in the whole chord is gone and the music is more distorted. Imagine the planetary vibration, once in perfect harmonious accord, changed with each act of violence, each act of destruction. Eventually the chord, the vibration can dissemble into distorted chaos.

SimoneLipscomb (4) copy — *Brent Durand took this image of me diving in the Sea of Cortez. My deepest meditations are underwater while diving. Harmony…ah!*

The resolution to this disharmony, this destruction, is to vibrate our hearts with love and to act from a place of compassion. As the vibration of the planet changes, humans can restore balance and harmony with the intention of love and by concrete, daily practices of recycling, using less fossil fuel, buying less ‘stuff,’ supporting organic farming, re-purposing articles, helping neighbors, helping animals, meditation, self-healing…..

Light of the rising sun began to illuminate tree branches, spanish moss, and autumn flowers. Palmetto fronds reached toward the light, palms wide open to receive, ‘fingers’ releasing gratitude skyward. They are an example for us. Hearts open to receive, hands giving love back to the whole by our actions, thoughts and the daily intentions we hold. Planetary harmony is in our hands.

Two white-tailed deer stood alongside the trail as I neared the end of my ride. They peacefully watched me approach and moved off as I quietly pedaled past. Such beauty. Such harmony. Such gratitude.

Awakening

By Simone Lipscomb | October 27, 2015

Elders, sages and mystics say that now is the time to awaken. The stars are in alignment, the planets are dancing in just the right rhythm and the window of opportunity is upon us.

What does it mean to awaken? Is it a one-time, light-filled moment of blissful awareness? Or is it small moments where instead of screaming at the droning leaf blower next door you turn on music to drown out the mind-numbing sound and smile? “Let’s just breathe….” sings Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam. Or choosing to take a deep breath after beeping your horn when a driver swerves into your lane…rather than yell obscenities.

Awakening…maybe it’s just awareness. Awareness of what’s going on in body-mind-spirit. Yes, even Eddie Vedder on repeat can create angst….did I put iTunes on repeat?

Brazalian Bossanova…that’s better. Maybe awakening is as simple as knowing what we need to stay balanced. No leaf blowers today. No songs on repeat. Meditation please. Yoga please. Ten emails demanding action immediately…no, not now.

More time outdoors.

More time underwater with my camera gear.

Perhaps awakening is learning to be in neutral rather than speeding or going in reverse. Maybe awakening is simply learning to be still and quiet…there seems to be a wealth of wisdom in that neutral place of stillness.

Could be that awakening is simply learning to dance with our own energies….active, receptive and neutral. Balance.

Maybe we leave clues for ourselves in our self-expression….

“These stones and dust fade into wrinkles and colors of earth, sacred earth whose face is marked with smile lines from laughing at wind and sea lions frolicking in tides that kissed Her beautiful Self. Lay bare these bones to bake in the sun and cleanse me in Her reflective glow. These white-chalk, pock-marked bones whiter still from nesting shore birds…red, pink, salmon, rust, orange roughened, weathered, ragged by forces beyond control…lay bare these bones. Layers and layers of color and texture open to elemental forces so powerful only mountains such as these could behold them and survive the beauty. Around me stretches the vast, ragged peaks of Guardian Angel Island. Its massive face affects me deeply. I am struck with awe to my core and I find myself unable to turn away from the massive rock that lies before me, unable to hide from Her gaze.”

Perhaps little-by-little light fills our minds and hearts and we simply become more awake, less unaware, of what’s happening in the microcosm that is the individual, human experience.

More Wild Than Not

By Simone Lipscomb | October 14, 2015

Blinking letters on the large, portable sign made me snarl: Controlled Burn Gulf State Park. I felt my bicycle wiggle on the rack. Dang it! Well, the park is over 6000 acres. Maybe the Backcountry Trail is open.

Being the eternal optimist, I parked and pedaled from park headquarters to the trail entry but sure enough, it was closed. Optimism pushed me onward and I continued along the park road until an old trail that runs behind the campground intersected it. My hybrid bicycle got its first taste of real trail riding as marsh grass, flowers and birds enriched the leisurely pedal through Bear Creek Trail. Then on through the campground before the sun had risen and at the end of the road, another blockade to the Backcountry Trail. As I stopped to read the burn date a ranger pulled up and suggested the Peninsula Trail that runs along Fort Morgan Road. Not backcountry but not highway either. Good alternative. Right?

Crossing the large intersection of Highway 59 and Highway 180, even with crosswalk buttons, created anxiety within me. Riding with distracted drivers is my least favorite way to cycle. And just about everyone who crosses the Intracoastal Waterway Bridge is distracted by something. Those of us who live here think that a switch automatically turns off in people’s brains when they cross that bridge.

After safely navigating the busy intersection there was a never-ending series of smaller intersections along the ‘trail.’ Huge grocery store, bank, apartments, residences, gas station. I felt myself wanting to hide and go deeper in the woods and avoid developed areas. Many of the intersections had 8 x 8 wooden posts in the center of both sides of the trail to keep vehicles from entering the trail. There wasn’t opportunity to surrender to nature’s embrace like I do when riding the Backcountry Trail. I was just trying to avoid hitting huge posts, cars and avoid getting hit by cars.

During moments away from crossroads, I felt what animals must feel when dealing with loss of habitat. Forced to interact with the human species, they have to avoid being crushed without the ability to read signs or understand traffic rules. On a visceral level I felt a kinship with raccoons, deer, opossums, snakes, birds, foxes, bobcats, turtles and the other species who live on the island or any place where habitat is destroyed for development.

The truth of Oneness came to mind. I realized the pain experienced by humans when wild places are destroyed is because we are part of the woods, the beaches, the Ocean…when it is raped, we feel it. We experience the loss of beauty and safety. As our planet suffers more and more abuse, those of us paying attention feel the heartbreak, the grief and we’re not only grieving for a random place of beauty, we are grieving for the loss of ourselves.

In my first book, Sharks On My Fin Tips (2008), I wrote about instinctual wisdom and oneness. Here’s an excerpt from my book that describes an experience on a night dive: “I looked up and saw the light of the bright, full moon shimmering on the surface and filtering through the clear, turquoise water in wild, geometric patterns. I became so enraptured by the play of moonlight in the water and on the white sand that I settled into an open sandy area on the ocean floor and laid down, belly against Earth….I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of the ocean…the clicking of shrimp and creatures moving through the sand. Darkness enclosed me. The weight of the entire Atlantic Ocean pushed against me as Earth cradled me. Time no longer held meaning for me as I lay prostrate in an act of worship. All I knew in that moment was utter and complete peace and contentment….in those moments, life as I had known it was transcended. I was one with everything around me.”

Edward Abbey in his book Desert Solitaire (1968), wrote: “Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit and as vital to our lives as water and good bread. A civilization which destroys what little remains of the wild, the spare, the original, is cutting itself off from its origins and betraying the principle of civilization itself….The love of wilderness is more than a hunger for what is always beyond reach; it is also an expression of loyalty to the earth, the earth which bore us and sustains us, the only home we shall ever know, the only paradise we ever need–if only we had the eyes to see. Original sin, the true original sin, is the blind destruction for the sake of greed of this natural paradise which lies all around us…we need wilderness whether or not we ever set foot in it. We need a refuge even though we may never need to go there. We need the possibility of escape as surely as we need hope; without it the life of the cities would drive all men into crime or drugs or psychoanalysis.”

John Muir in his book John of the Mountains (1938) wrote: “When I first came down to the city from my mountain home, I began to wither, and wish instinctively for the vital woods and high sky. Yet I lingered month after month, plodding at ‘duty.’ At length I chanced to see a lovely goldenrod in bloom in a weedy spot alongside one of the less frequented sidewalks there. Suddenly I was aware of the ending of summer and fled. Then, once away, I saw how shrunken and lean I was, and how glad I was I had gone.”

Even though I live in a rural area of Coastal Alabama and spend my happiest hours cycling the Backcountry Trail or paddling my SUP board on the river, my travels are most happily spent in wild areas. The Sea of Cortez gifted me with two weeks of wildness this summer that nourished me to great depths. I didn’t know how agitated and angry I had become by ignoring the part of me that yearns for deep connection with wild places. Today, while cycling, I was reminded how connecting with nature is much more than simply being outside.

From my trip to the Midriff Islands in the Sea of Cortez: “Little cumulus clouds dot the sky, their edges lit as silver from the gathering light. The warm glow of the sun, orange and golden in hue, set the edge of advancing clouds a-light, flaming softly toward the Baja Peninsula. The cerulean sky provides the canvas on which this masterpiece is composed. Where else but immersed in nature can one find such beauty while being kissed by the wind? Perhaps the most important experience on this journey has been to visit those unspoiled places where Spirit and Nature commune without human intervention. The experience has unleashed an amazing amount of energy within me. The challenge is to keep it moving and free as I return to what we call civilization.”

Photograph of me and sea lion friend taken by Tracey Bennett.

The lesson learned while cycling today is that I am more wild than not. While I may live in a nice home and enjoy modern conveniences, my heart is wild and most happy among those places where nature is free and unrestrained.

Richard Jefferies wrote a small book entitled, The Story of My Heart. “I burn life like a torch. The hot light shot back from the sea scorches my cheek–my life is burning in me. The soul throbs like the sea for a larger life.”