Tag: Simone Lipscomb
King of the Forest

King of the Forest

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He burst around a bend in the trail, running full speed, and skidded to a stop 15 feet from me. Our eyes locked. His were wide and filled with fear. His sides heaved as his breath came in deep pants. He was soaked, dripping with water or sweat, I couldn’t tell. Long strings of drool dripped from his mouth as his antlers crowned his magnificent head.

It was obvious something had been chasing him. And I was in his way. He took two steps toward me and lowered his antlers a bit. I calmly said, “It’s okay. I’m not who’s trying to hurt you. Run on. Go fast.” He stopped, took a deep breath, and then leaped down the steep mountainside. 

I stood there listening to him move through the woods and creek below. Maybe three minutes later, I heard dogs barking. As they came closer, I started yelling at them. Of course that did nothing to stop them. They were huge, black dogs and even though I caused them to pause, they doubled back and ran on. When they picked up his scent, they screamed their barks and crashed through the creek far below.

Fury arose in me. This is a national park. Hunting is illegal, so is running dogs through it. These dogs didn’t have collars, like the usual hunting dogs have that run through the park terrorizing wildlife. I don’t know what they were except hell-bent on catching the deer.

I was almost two miles from my car, so couldn’t help the deer by running back to call for a ranger. I hoped the eight-point buck outwitted the dogs. How I hoped that, for him and his potential descendants.

Even now, many hours after the encounter, I feel that buck’s fear–but more than that–I feel his strength and stamina, his defiance as he stepped towards me, and then his trust that I wasn’t his enemy. 

When faced with a panicked, wild animal, I never know how I will react, but some higher part of me stepped in to connect with the buck. I didn’t have time to feel afraid. I had to reassure him that I was no threat…quickly…but encourage him to keep moving because whatever was chasing him was surely coming.

The experience awakened some strength in me that rose above fear. The deer and I connected profoundly in those moments. He gifted me with something I feel deeply in my bones, but I struggle to assign words to. I am wilder, stronger, smarter, wiser for the momentary communion with this king of the forest. 
Can’t Fight Gravity

Can’t Fight Gravity

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Perfect stillness. That was my experience as I laid under a clear sky with stars, planets, galaxies, and nebula sparkling overhead. The air was still. The woods were still. Not a crackle in the leaves from animals on their night journeys. I was still. At peace. Calm from my core.

A little over a year ago I started using a Seestar telescope, which is an amazing gadget that takes images of deep space objects without complicated setups with regular telescopes and cameras. And the images turn out fine for what I want. It was easy learning to use it with the help of YouTube and a little study. What wasn’t easy was learning how to be still and patient as the telescope gathered photons. And I was shocked at my discomfort.

I’ve photographed the night sky for decades, but in the last year took my passion for nocturnal sky adventures to a deeper level. At first, a five minute image was a stretch as I wanted to explore more and see more and jump to the next target. But then, as I learned to sink into myself deeper, I became fascinated with the details that an hour-long image revealed. Or gasp, an even longer exposure. 

My skills for landscape astrophotography have expanded as well. I started programming my camera remote and setting it up with a lens warmer (to prevent dewy fogging) and power bank and let my Nikon capture star trails as the Earth rotates. As the camera and little telescope do their thing, I’ve learned to be still.

By relaxing and observing the night sky, I’ve seen amazing meteors that I would have missed had I been staring at my screen, looking for the next target to image. But more than that, I’ve seen a calmer side of myself that I really, really like.

Earth rotates making the stars and planets appear to move and what I’ve learned to do is let this magnificent planet carry me without trying to force myself to go faster or fight against gravity. As if. Who else out there on this spinning blue sphere has tried to defeat gravity by operating at break-neck speed with your mind? When we do that, we live in a constant fight with space and time. And I think we all know what will win. 

Last night I celebrated the stars, planets, galaxies, nebula, and the surrender to stillness…to gravity…I’ve found within myself. And it felt really good.
Music of the Spheres

Music of the Spheres

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I walked up the rocky hill in blackness. Only a dimmed light pointed at my feet kept me on the path. In the distance I could hear the Atlantic Ocean pounding the cliffs. Rabbits skittered out of the way and cows appeared from the inky night, barely illuminated by the muted light. I was alone, but not really.

The trail was wet and slippery as I neared the arch in the rock wall. I paused to request permission to enter the 5000 year old stone fort and felt no resistance to my being there. I turned off the faint light, walked through the threshold, and felt myself enter a different dimension, one ruled by elemental beings.

The inner circle whispered a welcome, so I walked through the lush grass and found a place to lay down in the center. The only human-created light was a buoy offshore that warned of the cliffs. Dark sky magic weaved me into its spell. But it wasn’t just the stars and planets overhead that awed me, it was everything: Earth Mother anchoring me, wild wind, waves pounding the cliff, and fire of the stars.

As I rested on my back, I felt the reverberation of the ocean through the ground as it shook the bluff. It was as if every blade of grass was vibrating the story of the sea as it embraced the shore of Inis Mor, Ireland. Sky and Earth spiraled through me as I opened to the beauty.

Old metal fence pipes, with holes drilled into them, became flutes for the wind as they stood as sentinels just outside the fort. We are like those ‘flutes,’ available to be instruments of love and light if we simply open and avail ourselves to light, to love, to the Music of the Spheres.

I think Pythagoras had it right when he said the movements of the celestial bodies create a divine, inaudible harmony. The only thing I disagree with is the inaudible part. For times like this morning, when I was reclined under the late night/pre-dawn sky here in the Smoky Mountains, I hear that harmony as it arises within me as a reflection from the heavens.
Remember the Light

Remember the Light

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When you gaze into the clear night sky, the perception is there is darkness and only pinpoints of light. But when you take photographs of the night sky, a fundamental truth is revealed: It’s mostly light. So much light!

I regularly set up my tripod and camera and program my remote to continuously fire 10 to 20 second shots until my battery runs out, I’m too cold to continue, or clouds arrive. By doing this with the correct exposure, I capture the rotation of the Earth. It appears as star trails…and planet trails…when I stack those images in Photoshop. Streams of light are the reality!

Even though life can seem really dark, when we look closely those pinpoints of light, glowing in so many hearts, they become like fireworks of love all over the planet.

When I stand under the firmament and gaze into the heavens, my life is changed for the better. Every. Single. Time. 

Don’t think that because it looks dark, all is lost. Light is growing and continues to grow as we open our hearts and allow our lights to shine.
The Two Sides of Gratitude

The Two Sides of Gratitude

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We often hear to be grateful and to state our gratitude by saying thank you. In my contemplation this morning, I heard to add something to that statement of gratitude that will help me be more mindful and will show me another side to gratitude.

When I feel gratitude for something, add a statement that acknowledges and identifies what I am receiving and then add that I am grateful for it. For instance, “I receive the love of my friends through their invitation to Thanksgiving dinner and I am grateful,” or “I receive the light-up stocking caps and the care from my friends and I am grateful.” The idea is to recognize what I am receiving before simply saying thank you.

By stating that I am receiving something, it helps me be more mindful and shows how abundantly I am loved by friends, family, the Universe. It’s easy to say I’m grateful for this or that, but when I state that I am receiving something, it amplifies the gratitude. And I’m not saying I’ll do this out in public (but who knows) but rather make it a personal practice. 

Stating that I receive something opens me to receive it on a deeper level and therefore deepens my gratitude.

“I receive electricity because someone is monitoring its production so families are warm…and I am grateful.”

“I receive a phone call from my daughter because she cares about me…and I am grateful.”

“I receive a hug from my hound because he loves me…and I am grateful.”

“I receive an order for my books because my friend loves me and supports my work…and I am grateful.”

“I receive the beauty of these mountains…and I am grateful.”

“I receive the beauty of the stars…and I am grateful.”

“I receive the bounty of the Universe…and I am grateful.”

Recognizing and naming what I am receiving helps me see…opens me…expands my awareness of the bounty of my life. I receive this bounty and I am deeply grateful.