Nature

I’ve been spending a lot of time outdoors lately. I crave it. No, crave is the wrong word. We often crave things that we don’t really need, and would probably be much better without. No, I need the outdoors the way I need oxygen. I need the grass under my bare feet in my backyard, the slight chill of the 6 o’clock air against my skin on my morning walk, the smell of last autumn’s leaves decomposing on the forest floor, the multitude of creatures and the sounds they make, their innate grace and elegance. Without a steady supply of the above, I feel myself withering on the vine.

I joked to Chris this morning that the only thing wrong about Earth is the presence of human beings. Only it wasn’t a joke. And yes, I include myself in that sweeping judgement. I’ve also (not) joked to people that if reincarnation is a thing, the only creature I wouldn’t want to come back as is a human. “Even if you come back as a mayfly that only lives a day?” Yes, even if. “Even if you come back as a stink bug?” Yes, even if. 

It seems to be human nature to complicate things, to not accept things as they are, to constantly be “improving” upon things, including ourselves. Nothing, and no one, least of all ourselves, is ever enough. And as I say above – I am as guilty of this as the next person. No other creature on earth burdens themselves in this way, or creates such chaos in the world. Humans are our own worst enemies, and certainly the only enemy of the natural world. In short, we are the most fucked up of any species here on earth.

And yet. Poetry. Music, Art. There are some saving graces, I will admit.

I’m in very real danger of over-quoting the great poet Mary Oliver in this blog, but one of my favorite poems of hers is called “I Go Down To The Shore.” Because I still have problems with formatting things on this blog I will write it out here in prose form:

 “I go down to the shore in the morning and depending on the hour the waves are rolling in or moving out, and I say, oh, I am miserable, what shall – what should I do? And the sea says in its lovely voice: Excuse me, I have work to do.”

I’ve never had really great success with meditation. I’ve tried several apps, guided meditations, walking meditations, mantra-based meditations. When I try to meditate, I find it very difficult. My mind wanders (and yes, I know that bringing the wandering mind back to the moment is part of meditation) and it just really honestly has always felt like hard work. But when I am out in nature, like magic my sense of my self and my thoughts and my problems and anxieties recede to a place way in the background. Instead of churning out a constant stream of thoughts, my mind shifts to receive-only mode. I become alert to movement and sound and changes in my immediate environment. There is a sense of awe and wonder that I have not found anywhere else in all my life. 

But that’s not even the best part of it. When I am in nature, I remember that I am nature. No matter how we try to separate ourselves from the natural world, to shape it to our desires – we are no more important than the bluejay, or the muskrat, or the sycamore tree. And the human situations and problems that seem so pressing to us – they are no more important than the virginia rail sitting on her eggs or the brown mink scouting out its next meal. I think that when we decided that we were in charge of the world instead of just another part of the world, our problems began.

And that’s about as philosophical as I’m going to get today. 🙂

Have a wonderful week, friends.

Love,

Michelle xoxo