When leaves prepare to drop from high perches of limbed stateliness, there is no grief, no sadness. Life wanes yet color transforms veined membranes of chloroplasts into wild symphonies of red, orange, yellow, peach. The glory of their life is in their transforming…their dying.
Death stalks us from our first breath so what if every inhale became a prayer, every sigh a song. What if we take our cue from wisdom of seasons and allow that which is complete a kind and compassionate death. No fighting, no resisting…..just surrendering to the process of change and flow. This is life.
Cycles of nature teach mindfulness of life’s seasons. Birth, growth, harvest, death. This is fullness of living. Grasping creates stagnation, suffering. Beauty is found in change–ebb and flow, dark and light. Breathing, exhaling. Moving, being still. Giving, receiving.
*Quote by Thich Nhat Hanh in the book Fear: Essential Wisdom for Getting Through the Storm
The live oak tree forest was quiet and tucked away from the busyness of life yet held an outdoor stage in its embrace. An open field provided a place for seating and the sounds of the night welcomed musicians and music-lovers alike.
Cool, refreshing evening air was heavy with dew and as we listened to outrageously good music anything not in motion was soon coated with moisture. The intense humidity and heat of the past several weeks had given way to the beginnings of autumn on the Alabama Gulf Coast. It was a great time and place to relax, enjoy music and visit with friends.
After a while of standing with a heavy lens and camera body, I began to tire. In addition, it was past my bedtime when Willie Sugarcapps began to play so I was weary and sleepy and had a two hour drive after it ended. So my chair called and the camera found itself snuggled into the pack.
Willie Sugarcapps
Dreamer’s Sky began. Will Kimbrough’s new song is an upbeat, happy song with a bit of a jig sound with mandolin and fiddle. I closed my eyes and allowed the music to take me. The notes and words moved through my mind and suddenly I had the thought, The nature spirits are really digging this music. Then the image of two wolves dancing on hind legs came to mind. Then two coyotes, foxes, rabbits and all creatures of the wood came to my mind and I ‘saw’ them celebrating along the edge of the forest. Owls, squirrels, even earthworms were dancing with joy.
The vision brought sweet feelings of love and peace. I opened my eyes and looked into the velvet, night sky and saw stars and planets and I heard the words, music of the spheres. It was as if harmony was raining down like stardust on all who gathered, both human and non-human. There was an undeniable unity I saw in my mind’s eye and felt deeply.
I believe the only way we will heal ourselves and planet Earth is to be united in love and harmony. That unity comes from a positive connection we have not just with other humans but with all life. To the foxes dancing in the field or the owls doing a dance step on the tree branches. Or the neighbor of another color or religion.
A collective vision of harmony can change the world for the better. This is my dream, this is my vision. I place my hand in yours and issue an invitation to join in the dance, in the celebration. I hold the paw of sister wolf. I grasp the flipper of mother sea turtle. The owl talons and my hand unite. The fluke of the massive humpback reaches for my hand…and yours. We can dream a new way of living into being. It begins with harmony and learning to hear the music of the spheres.
Thank you Will Kimbrough for the music and to Grayson Capps, Corkey Hughes, Sugarcane Jane…Savana Lee and Anthony Crawford…for bringing it to life tonight via the Willie Sugarcapps ‘vehicle.’ And if you, kind reader, are wondering about possible substance-induced vision…the answer is no. No alcohol or anything that altered my consciousness except beautiful music…beautiful harmony.
The final day of my re-wilding retreat began on Clingman’s Dome at an elevation of 6, 643 feet. The only day I chose to wear shorts and the air was literally a cloud of 50 degrees with high wind whipping it into frenzied, cotton-candy fragments. Thankfully I had fleece and a warm jacket and boots with wool socks that replaced my flip flops.
I wandered around the lower part of the trail and decided against a hike to the top. Dodging piles of bear scat deterred me, especially since it was densely foggy and I didn’t want to surprise a bear during his or her morning constitutional outing. If there had been other hikers I would have gone but there was simply too much bear energy afoot for me to venture up the steep trail with heavy camera and recording gear by myself.
But I didn’t feel cheated. I captured some sweet bird song with my new recording gear and even got some decent wind recordings. The images I took were also fun; however, it was simply the experience of being in the high elevation in a fogged-in situation that made it so lovely. Smelling the coniferous rainforest smells–the fir trees–always takes me to a higher level of experience. That smell is big Medicine for me.
I stood in the thick clouds, surrounded by white mist. My hair became drenched by the moisture and droplets could be heard falling from fir branches like rain. Blissful, sweet dawn…healing dawn.
After a while I made my way down from Newfound Gap and finally found myself under the clouds. The sun was bright and the air much warmer. I stopped at a favorite spot to send prayers of gratitude to Spirit and to the powerful presence of nature energies found in the protection of the Great Smoky Mountain National Park.
While wading in the clear, cold, rushing water I paused and placed my hands in the water. I felt the completion of a cleansing that began when I arrived a few days ago. With it came a renewed sense of joy. It’s amazing what these sacred mountains offer, the least of which is fog and cold water.
The early evening was quite exquisite as it unfolded from layers of colors painting the sky. A steady but gentle breeze kept bitting flyers away and kept the air cool. Soft, white sand moved underfoot as I walked over the dune to join my teammates near a nest that was due to hatch. One hundred fifty loggerhead sea turtle eggs had been producing active hatchlings over the past few days and when I listened with the stethoscope at noon, the high level of activity gave me hope that tonight would be the night they would make the journey to their new home…the sea.
I settled into my beach chair and adjusted the back so I could gaze into the kaleidoscope of color above me. Of course I left my big Nikon at home and had only my iPhone to attempt to capture the beauty. We took turns listening to the turtles through headphones as they worked their way up from nearly two feet under the sand. We united with excitement as their work was almost non-stop.
The night was so welcoming to us and the newly hatched loggerheads. The nearly full moon arched across the Gulf of Mexico and we hoped it would encourage the babies to continue their climb.
At midnight the first babies appeared.
At midnight, the first nose appeared in our monitor screen. WOO HOO! We tend to get our gloves on too soon sometimes. We wear gloves in case we have to help one that loses his or her way and tries to climb toward a porch light or street light or condo lights down the beach. I was one of the counters so I got in position and then realized it could be a while as the first ones to the top of the nest generally rest a while until their brothers and sisters join them.
Gradually more little ones begin to emerge.
Finally, I stretched out on the sand and laid gazing into the starry sky. The sand was a bit chilly but it felt quite good on my back. The moon couldn’t obscure the bright stars and I found myself lost in star energy while my body remained grounded on the Earth. As I relaxed my eyes and breathed in the sweet cosmic energy, I felt a subtle yet powerful shift within myself. I felt transported to another dimension and went into a meditative state. Then….a small, human head poked up from behind me and two eyes met mine from an upside-down perspective.
“May I help you?” I quietly asked. “What are you doing?” the boy asked.
“I’m looking at the stars,” I replied. “Oh,” he said and then added, “When are the turtles gonna hatch?”
We continued a quiet conversation until he got bored and wandered off. I continued to lay in surrender to the night, to the turtle’s time frame and released my need to hurry or push.
The nest grows darker with hatchlings as they prepare to ‘boil’ out of the nest.
I stood up after a while and went over to the iPad monitor where the infared camera was delivering a play-by-play of the progress. The sand appeared to be breathing as it swelled and bulged and moved as more babies made their way to the surface. I began videoing at the suggestion of our team leader and within seconds the ‘boil’ started. All those sleepy, resting turtles were catapulted into action and thus began the next step of the journey for this group of loggerhead sea turtles.
It’s past 2am but I needed to wind down a little. The shooting star that streaked across the sky on my way home topped off the evening nicely. I wonder if it would be too much trouble to ask my cats for a sleep-in morning….
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.
Death stalks us from our first breath so what if every inhale became a prayer, every sigh a song. What if we take our cue from wisdom of seasons and allow that which is complete a kind and compassionate death. No fighting, no resisting…..just surrendering to the process of change and flow. This is life.
Cycles of nature teach mindfulness of life’s seasons. Birth, growth, harvest, death. This is fullness of living. Grasping creates stagnation, suffering. Beauty is found in change–ebb and flow, dark and light. Breathing, exhaling. Moving, being still. Giving, receiving.
