Category: Nature

Returning Home

Photgraph © 2019 Peggy Kornegger

What does “home” mean to you? A place? A group of people? A memory? Or is it a feeling deep inside that touches your heart and soul? All of these perhaps. Our own life experiences define what home means to each of us. I grew up in Illinois, later lived in California, and then settled in Massachusetts for more than 30 years. Massachusetts is where I met my life partner, Anne, and where we were married. I’ve always loved both coasts, but I didn’t realize how much the Northeast had become home for me until I moved away and then returned for a visit.

A year ago, in June, Anne and I moved to Florida, leaving behind many years of memories and starting anew in a different part of the country. This June, one year later, I traveled north for a five-day retreat at Omega in Rhinebeck, New York. I was totally unprepared for the emotions that welled up in me as I flew into JFK and then took a series of trains to Rhinebeck in rural New York.

The Amtrak train route follows the Hudson River. On one side is the wide expanse of the river, and on the other, rolling hills and open fields. It was the latter than grabbed my heart: the GREEN! Avalanches of vibrant early summer green everywhere I looked—green trees, bushes, grasses. Mother Earth bursting with renewed life. Green filled my eyes and my heart. Tears streamed down my face. It was all so profoundly beautiful and so familiar. It was “home” to me at a very deep level. Florida has its own stunning tropical beauty, but here was a beauty that had been part of my life since childhood: the change of seasons and the return of green after a long winter. And for me it was the return of summer green after being away from it for a year.

I was in absolute awe at how stunning and vibrant the colors were, both on the train route and then at Omega itself. The sun highlighted all the varying shades of green, and the play of color and light was breathtaking. I wrote to Anne: “How did we live here and not fall on our knees in gratitude every day at the miracle of these incredible greens each spring and summer?!” It’s not that we didn’t appreciate the beauty of the landscape then, but something about returning after months of absence made it all explode with radiance within my perception.

And the birds! I love birds, and the spring migration in Massachusetts was a highlight of the year for me. This past May I missed it tremendously. My bird friends were passing through on their northern route without me! The warblers and thrushes, the orioles and tanagers. Of all the birds, though, I think I missed the robins most. Their cheerful lilting songs fill the spring and summer air in the Northeast and Midwest. Although there are amazing and unique birds in Florida, particularly water birds, I missed the robins that I saw every day at my backyard birdbath in Massachusetts. So, when I arrived at Omega and heard robins singing everywhere, I was brought to tears once more.

These are the irreplaceable details that make up a feeling of home—at least for me. My heart opened wide in joy and gratitude. I felt like “myself” again in some indescribable way: cells of memory that live in the heart and never disappear. You can have many homes in a lifetime, but one or two may hold particular emotional meaning. For me, the green Earth is always home because it touches the deepest part of my being.

I had no idea I would react so strongly when I returned to the Northeast. It was a gift of unbroken connection with all of life. As I stood looking out at the hilly green Omega landscape, I was reminded of each morning when I walked out the door to my Massachusetts garden and smiled with love and appreciation for the living green beauty before me.

 

Surrender the Outcome—Back by Popular Demand

Photograph © 2019 Peggy Kornegger

Over the last month or so, I’ve noticed that many different people from many different countries have visited my website to read my 2016 article “Surrender the Outcome.” Day after day, that title keeps popping up in the statistics, from Argentina to Morocco to India. I know it’s a key issue for people in their lives no matter where they live, but I also thought there must be more to it. From the perspective of divine guidance, how much clearer could a message be than the repetition of the words “surrender the outcome” every time I go to my website? The truth is that even though I carry that wisdom within me (and have written about it repeatedly), I often need a reminder when things get challenging in my life. The message to surrender comes when I need it most.

Why can’t I/we always remember to surrender to the life force within, to the hand of God that orchestrates the cosmos? To let go with each breath? Well, forgetting is the human condition. We live our lives in order to remember all that we forgot when we were born. Funny, that. Kind of a nuisance really. Yet the journey that remembering takes us on is one unlike any other—and one I wouldn’t pass up for full recall after birth. I didn’t always feel that way, but after many years on the spiritual path, I’m realizing that we couldn’t reach the greater levels of wisdom, insight, and connection without that veil that curtains off pre-birth awareness.

God, you see, is living my life through me, as me, as all of us. In that unique scenario is God’s opportunity to experience the physical manifest world in all its extremes and polarities, its perspective of separation. Each individual physical form on Earth is a piece of God, slowly recalling its Godness. Each human life is a different experience, a different opportunity to remember the love from which we all came. If we knew the end of the story before we began, how could we experience the adventure, the highs and lows, the gradual awakening to who we really are? God in human form forgets….and then remembers through connecting with the soul. That is the miracle, the flow of the universe in which the many “separate” pieces recognize they are part of the same whole.

My life in the past year has been an odd mix of absolute clarity and absolute confusion. Enlightenment and dark night of the soul experienced almost simultaneously. What’s that about? I’ve asked myself, with increasing impatience. I made a huge leap of faith and landed somewhere that feels like another dimension (Florida), where I see both the heavenly and the disheartening. The fact is I still don’t fully know why I’m here, and everything keeps falling away all around me. I sometimes feel lost, disconnected—except when I am in Nature. There I find divine connection, every time. The shining face of God in every plant, flower, tree, butterfly, and bird. And within my own heart.

Perhaps that’s why I’m here: to experience that, to write about that. To find my way Home through all the puzzling dichotomies. Oh yes, and to “surrender the outcome.” One more time, deeper than ever before. To wake up each morning, and say “I don’t know.” To allow the Great Mystery to open up infinite possibilities all around me. Maybe that’s the sum total of life, right there. When we let go of everything and just say Yes to whatever shows up, we are no longer separate from anything, including God.

God Is a Blue Heron

Photograph © 2018 Peggy Kornegger
Every day I walk two miles on a nature trail near where I live. I have come to call it my “walk with God” because in nature I often feel that deep connection with all I see. One recent afternoon, before leaving on my walk, I stepped out onto the lanai just in time to see a great blue heron standing stationary at the water’s edge right in front of me. Its body was stretched tall, its legs long, its eyes alertly focused on something nearby. Its presence was so striking that to me it felt like an extraordinary being dropped in from some other celestial realm. As it walked majestically by, that impression only intensified. “God is a blue heron,” I thought.

This perception began to take other forms in my mind as I began my walk. What if I used it as a mantra, a practice in conscious awareness, as I walked? I started with the first thing I saw: “God is…a hibiscus.” Then, “God is…the sidewalk.” Next, “God is…a tree.” And “God is…the sky.” The moon rising. A mockingbird’s call. A fern. A fountain. The sound of traffic in the distance. A fiery sun setting in the west. A squirrel. A street sign. An old broken bicycle. Neighbors walking toward me. Newly tiled roofs. Every sound and every color.

Everything I looked at became God, and as I continued, my eyes focusing on one small part of the universe after another, my sense of the interconnectedness of ALL of it grew. Suddenly, there was no separation between me and what I saw and heard—anywhere, either before me or in my mind’s eye. Everything was pure divine energy and light. The feeling was like coming home—to something greater than me as well as to my self, my soul self, which doesn’t see separation, only oneness. I realized too what a grace-filled gift this particular practice was, lifting me out of a background sadness and disconnection that had been with me for weeks.

Moving from one part of the country to another had turned my world upside down, first in extraordinarily expansive ways and then in ways that felt like loss and separation. Now, as I repeated again and again all the ways that God/dess was part of my every perception, I understood that everything was unfolding perfectly in order to bring me to a deeper awareness of connection in my life. Connection to spirit was everywhere I looked; I had only to open my eyes wider to once again see it clearly.

We may think we know what we’re looking at and where we’re going in our lives. If, like me, you have been on a spiritual path for years, you may believe you see the larger picture as well as the details. Ah, but even though you and I can see more and more expansively as our lives evolve, we sometimes forget how flawlessly everything fits together in the universal plan and what appears as loss and sorrow can later become the doorway to greater awareness.

When we realize at the deepest level that everything and everyone is here for a reason, part of God’s intricate tapestry of creation, then complaining or criticizing seems like a distraction and diversion. This is our life journey. A journey back to recognizing that the blue heron as well as the broken bicycle are both God, inseparable from each other as well as from ourselves. For we too are God.

The Language of Clouds

Photograph © Copyright 2018 Peggy Kornegger

When I was a small child, I saw clouds as one-dimensional, as if they were painted on the sky by some artistic giant. It was really only after I flew in an airplane many years later that I perceived the three-dimensionality of clouds. At 20,000 feet, flying above and through them, I could see their depth and dimensions, their constantly changing shapes and sizes. It was a revelation to me, and I became fascinated with them. Even on the ground, I could see that they were not really paper-thin but often thick and expansive…and constantly morphing into new forms.

Their very names describe clouds’ variety, each kind indicating a different altitude, shape, and weather pattern. There are low-level, mid-level, and high-level clouds, with names like cumulus, cirrus, stratus, cumulonimbus, and altocumulus. They can look like scattered puffs of white dotting the sky, huge towering cotton balls, or long streaks of pale fiber with little sky visible. Flying next to and through cumulus clouds (the giant cotton balls) is awe-inspiring. The play of light and shadow on the brilliant whiteness, as well as the illusion of solidity (flying into and out of them), makes for an other-worldly experience. Thus the reason why many people feel as if they are close to heaven when they fly.

In that heavenly place, I began to look at clouds from the perspective of a spiritual being rather than a scientific observer. Flying in a plane, completely untethered to Earth and its materiality, I felt my consciousness lifted to a higher dimension. I was part of something larger than my one physical form: a powerful presence that encompassed the plane, the clouds, the sky, me, and everything beyond what I could see with my physical eyes. Within that experience, I learned that some things cannot be expressed through the language of words, but only through the silent language of the heart and soul.

My spiritual path over the years has continued to show me that silence often communicates more than sound. Within silence, we are present to Presence itself, which animates the universe. In meditation, quiet walks in nature, or sky rides, my conscious awareness drops deeper and expands wider to accommodate the vastness of that universe. I am speechless before its grandeur and infinite unfolding. An experience of God/dess at its most profound and far-reaching.

As a writer, I often try to describe these moments of transcendent awareness and divine connection. Yet, human language somehow falls short of fully conveying the extraordinary magnificence of our world: the flowers, butterflies, trees, human faces, heavenly encounters—and clouds. Each one is a unique expression of the love and light that is the Source of everything in the universe. When we awake each morning and step into the day before us, it is a sacred walk upon the Earth. For me, it is an experience beyond words, one that teaches me over and over that the wisest truth about life is that it is an eternally changing wonder and mystery. Like clouds themselves.

 

The Unbusy Life

Photograph © 2018 Peggy Kornegger

When Mary Oliver died last month, I felt I had lost a kindred spirit from this world. Someone who lived a life of deep connection to, and quiet contemplation of, nature’s never-ending miracles. All my life I have been drawn to quiet contemplative moments more than busy social activities. Even as a child, although I loved playing with my friends at school, something in me craved the experiences I had in my own backyard alone with nature.

I grew up an only child on five acres in the Illinois countryside, and I always felt most content outdoors by myself, sometimes reading in the branches of my favorite climbing tree, sometimes sitting in the grass watching ants or birds or clouds in the sky. Mother Nature nurtured my sense of the beautiful and miraculous in the world. In truth, this was my first experience of God. Beyond religious parameters and beyond words. In the silent language of the natural world, I found my spiritual home. And it has never left me.

In my adult life, when I worked at various editorial jobs and became active in feminist groups, I needed time alone in order to feel restored and whole. I took long walks in parks and nature sanctuaries and went on hiking trips to immerse myself in the natural world. And I wrote poetry and prose that arose from that silent inner space. The poet in me was always craving times of quietude and peace. To just be instead of do.

Through the years, I have found those moments of just being absolutely essential and nonnegotiable. They are the deepest form of life enhancement and spiritual connection for me. My sacred temple is nature. My form of prayer is standing with open arms, contemplating the cosmos, in a grain of sand or in a galaxy. Mary Oliver always spoke to my heart when she wrote of her solitary and transcendent experiences in nature. To me, she epitomized being supremely engaged with all aspects of life as she observed the world around her with a loving poet’s eye:

Mary knew the truth of life, what was really meaningful, not superficially so. Her writing, which came from her heart, touched readers’ souls, and many other hearts were awakened through the beauty of her poetry and prose. When I reread her work, I am always uplifted, always validated in my desire to connect deeply with nature on a daily basis, for my need to regularly step away from activities to be “not busy.” To hold within me a holy space where I can just love the world, as is, beautiful in all its exquisite details. Thank you, Mary Oliver, for the gift of your voice and your presence on this Earth.
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In memory of Mary Oliver, 1935-2019