Category: Nature

All I Need to Know

I have always loved the phrase that many Native Americans use to refer to God and all of life: “The Great Mystery.” There is such wisdom and spiritual surrender in those words, a quiet acknowledgment that the universe and our place in it cannot be fully understood by the human mind. This wondrous mystery is what I experience when I walk alone in Nature or stare up at the stars at night.

Wonder, and joy at the beauty. Yet, for me there has also always been an element of sadness in contemplating eternity and my place in it. As a child I felt great fear when thinking of my life within infinity and the “world going on forever.” It was only in my adult spiritual quest that I came to a deepening and expansion of my awareness and a loosening of the fear. In “accepting what is” I found solace for my sorrow. When I stopped trying to find an explanation for life, the closed doors of my perception opened to the experience of Spirit, my soul’s essence and what is at the heart of all existence.

Even at times of emotional and physical challenge (the death of my parents; treatment for breast cancer), the presence of Spirit has sustained me. There will always be a mixture of thoughts and feelings when I look at the world that surrounds me: love of life as well as grief at its transitory, impermanent nature. When sadness arises, I have learned over the years that the wisest response is surrender: accepting those sad feelings and realizing they are only one part of who I am. It is my human identity that feels fear or grief; my soul witnesses all of life peacefully, without question or judgment. Within that peace, I let everything go and live in the Mystery. I don’t need to know all the answers; I just remain open to experiencing the beauty and wonder available to me in every moment.

I recently had an experience that highlighted this wisdom. I am an avid birdwatcher, and every year I visit Mt. Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge, Massachusetts, for the spring bird migration. Hundreds of migrating birds come through the cemetery because of its beautiful habitat, and local birders are there to greet them. On one particular morning, after days of rain, I walked inside the front gate and paused to get out my binoculars. A man standing nearby enthusiastically commented on the beauty of the day and how he was certain the end of the rain would bring all the birds in. I agreed with him, and as I started to walk away, he added, “I don’t know much about science or exact bird identification, but I know how beautiful and special each one is.” “And that’s all you need to know,” I replied.

 At that, he burst, quite loudly, into song: “That may be all I need to know….” He laughed delightedly as he finished and asked me if I knew the song. I smiled and said, “Yes, I do.” So he sang it all over again, practically vibrating with joy. We then wished each other a wonderful day, and each went our way. As I turned to look back at him, he was still smiling and singing to himself. What sweet synchronicity in encountering this rather eccentric earth angel who reminded me of the wisdom of life’s beauty. I am surrounded by that beauty with every step. And, truly, that is all I need to know, ever.

Empty Hands

I don’t use apps much or carry my cell phone everywhere I go. To me, they can be distracting, even burdensome. I want to move through my day-to-day life with my hands, heart, and mind open. For instance, when I go bird-watching, I bring my binoculars and anticipation. That’s it. While others around me are holding their phones up, using an app to identify a bird call, I am just listening—and looking. I don’t want a cell phone to come between me and my experience of the wonder of birds. I leave it at home. If I can’t always identify the bird I am seeing, that’s okay. The wonder is there.

Not everyone would agree with that. Apps can help birders identify what they see, just as books and CDs did when I first started birding years ago (and they are still useful). I understand. It’s exciting to be able to recognize and name a bird that appears before you. Yet, relying too much on human inventions to filter life’s experiences may create separation instead of connection. We lose the thrill of discovery, the immediacy and excitement of being fully present and alive. And of course, it’s not just about birds. It’s about everything. As I ride the bus or walk down the street, I see people looking at what is streaming on their cell phones rather than the reality streaming all around them.

When I was on a whale watch a few years ago, a humpback whale breached nearby, and everyone on the boat was holding their cell phones out in front of them, taking photos. They were viewing the miracle of this huge whale in such close proximity indirectly, through a human-made device. And this happens all the time. Taking photos of reality or watching a video instead of experiencing it directly. Granted, I like to take pictures too, but not all the time. I don’t want to completely replace direct perception with images and miss the real thing.

If I fill my consciousness with mental filters and my life with cell phones and digital cameras, I can get lost in the midst of them. The soul of who I am in this lifetime misses out. I didn’t come to this Earth for substitutes and simulations. I came here to be fully present in each moment, no preconceptions or imitation reality. An impossible task, you say? Perhaps. And yet I try to move in this direction every day, emptying out the unnecessary so I can fill myself with the experience of each moment, uncluttered and free.

There is pressure all around me (and you) to engage in virtual reality instead of the real thing. I have to consciously remind myself to “be here now” in every living second. I believe it is possible, not just for me but for all of us. Put down your cell phone, walk out the door, hands empty, and look around—real life is everywhere, just waiting for you.

Stillness and Spirit

Within stillness is Spirit: beingness without definition or form. Before it manifests into the world as we know it, the entire universe is pure silence, a formless Presence that shines with light. When we are born, we are that shining light, taking human form. It remains within us throughout our lives, but we forget that it lives there as the soul. If we embark on a spiritual quest later in life, we may become aware of that soul presence and know it as God/dess. This is the human journey.

Growing up as an only child in the Illinois countryside, I experienced silence as part of my daily life. I could often be found sitting in trees reading or playing quietly by a creek. The sounds of Nature surrounded me, but there was a deep stillness within them. As an adult, living in various cities, I sought that silence everywhere, beneath urban noise and busyness. I could always find it when I was alone, so I valued solitary time, particularly in Nature. My exploration of spirituality led me to recognize God in meditative moments of complete silence. External silence reflected inner stillness, and it was all soul awareness.

This awareness and silent connection to Spirit has become an essential part of my life. Each morning before dawn, I sit in silence and breathe it into my consciousness. With each breath during the day, I reawaken that awareness. This is my practice midst all the distractions of daily life. It holds me steady when so many parts of living on planet Earth now can throw me off balance. If I can find my way back to the inner stillness of my soul, I recenter.

After my journey through breast cancer two years ago, I began to become more aware of the cycles of form and formlessness arising within silence. The challenges of that time expanded and deepened my spiritual connection in ways I couldn’t have imagined beforehand. For example, a few months ago, as I looked out the window at the winter snow, I suddenly recognized the seasons as a reflection of life taking form within the cosmos, God becoming manifest.

Winter can be seen as formless beingness that holds all potential. Spring is the birth of life in the forms of Nature on Earth. Summer displays the full bloom of living expansiveness. Autumn colors show us the colorful light of life just before it releases itself into the formless slumber of winter once again. A wondrous cycle of living and dying and rebirth that repeats itself each year. Night and day, darkness and light, are other examples of form arising from the formless unmanifest realm of pure being every day. And sound too emerging from the silence as birdsong at dawn.

If you look around and quietly observe with your inner eyes, you can see these cycles of form and formlessness taking place everywhere. Slow down and breathe in the silence beneath everything, and you will be amazed at the miracles you experience. Spirit lives in stillness, which is the heart of who you/we are.

Sentinels of Song

In spring and summer, I wake up each morning to the robin’s cheery song outside my window. S/he sings at the very top of the tree in our backyard for several minutes, then flies to another tree, then another, and another, then back again to the backyard. At night I fall asleep to the sounds of a mockingbird’s wonderful medley of various bird songs, and at dawn s/he is still singing. Robins and other songbirds do this to establish their home “territory” or attract a mate. Feathered sentinels, they seem to watch over the area with care, enveloping it in song. I can actually feel the vibration of living presence surrounding me as I listen.

I also hear cardinals, song sparrows, house finches, white-throated sparrows, Carolina wrens, mourning doves, and chickadees singing the day into being. Canada geese call as they fly overhead. Each of their songs is unique and a delight to hear. My heart is uplifted as I walk through my neighborhood every morning. Sometimes, late at night, the soft haunting call of a screech owl can be heard in the trees outside the window. And when I go to nearby Mt. Auburn Cemetery for each year’s spring migration, the songs of orioles, tanagers, thrushes, flycatchers, and warblers of all kinds fill the air. I am reminded of the birds that were part of my childhood in rural Illinois, and my heart expands with love for the world. In spite of human conflict and thoughtless neglect of the environment, birds continue to bring joy to the world with their songs, weaving a musical tapestry. They are like guardians of happiness on Earth.

Perhaps every one of us is meant to do this in our lives: be sentinels of our individual human songs. Each of us in our own way is unrepeatable and colorful, like a songbird in spring. And we each have a unique gift to bring to the world. A song of the soul, if you will. When we “sing” full out, lovingly, heart open, we lift the hearts of those around us. A magical alchemical vibration!

By “singing,” I mean simply being yourself. Birds don’t pretend to be something other than who they are; they are completely aligned with Nature and their “birdness” as they sing. If you and I also align ourselves with the natural world around us and forget about trying to become something other than who we were born to be, “song” flows from us like light. It is the music of the soul and the love in our hearts, which we came into this life to share.

This may sound like a nice story with little connection to the real world, but if you pause a moment and listen to the next bird you hear singing, you may realize exactly what I mean. If each of us was created to live on Earth for a particular reason, to bring to the world a particular gift, what is yours? What is the soul music you came here to share? If birds are sentinels of song, perhaps human beings are sentinels of the heart. When we love fully, the music of the spheres flows through us.

Waiting…

We humans spend so much of our lives waiting: for the bus or train, in traffic, in the dentist’s office, in the checkout line, for vacation. Waiting to be 21 and then waiting for retirement. In a blink of an eye, our entire lives have passed in waiting for the next event or experience. Often we miss the moment we are living through because our minds are preoccupied with looking to the future. Yet the future doesn’t really exist; it is always running ahead of us, tempting us to forget where we are now.

The wisdom handed down from spiritual teachers like Ram Dass is to “Be here now.” Because now is all we have. The fantasy of the future and the memory of the past are mental distractions, which often keep us stuck in dissatisfaction. If we can learn to focus on each moment, appreciation and peace of mind arise and help us relax into being instead of aspiring.

I was thinking of this recently when Anne and I stayed at Kripalu Yoga Center in Lenox, Massachusetts, for a few days. Daily life there is very simple: yoga, meditation, meals, walking in Nature, resting or reading. No TV or video; cell phones restricted to use in one room only. Breakfast is silent; quiet, contemplative presence is encouraged. Coming from the external world of noise and activity, Kripalu visitors may discover that it takes consciously letting go to become aligned with a state of being that is actually quite natural to all of us.

At home, I meditate and do yoga every day as well as walk quietly in Nature, so this was not new. However, at Kripalu, I found myself facing my habits of checking emails and going online for one reason or another. Daily routines of busyness. Without them, I realized I was “waiting” for the next meal or yoga session, feeling a bit lost. Even though I have been to Kripalu and other retreat centers many times, this awareness of my own “waiting” mindset was a real teaching for me.

The energy of the external world can catch us up in its fast pace at an unconscious level. We think it is normal. Empty space and time can feel odd. And yet they are completely natural, and it is why I and so many people go to places like Kripalu. To live fully in each moment without looking behind or ahead. So, I sat with that awareness. Within it, I remembered that I could easily bring myself back to the moment, wherever I am, by focusing on some detail in my environment: a tree, a cloud, a person, a pattern of light on the wall, birdsong. Or my own breathing, which is the Presence focus in so many traditions. The breath is only ever in the now. When I step into that soul space of pure being, I stop waiting.

So, the best part of my visit to Kripalu was reawakened awareness of living fully in the present moment without waiting for the next one. It’s a practice, an ongoing reminder of how rich each second of our lives is. No need to “wait for it,” It’s all here, right now.