Tag: nature

Clear the Fear!

I’ve become increasingly aware of how fear rules the airwaves and the collective mindset these days. So many people are terrified of “others,” as well as all that they can’t control in their lives. The media (both programming and advertising) feeds on and amplifies those fears. The mainstream news focuses on war, shootings, political fighting, disasters. Crime-solving drama series, filled with violence and gun battles, proliferate. Drug companies advertise medications to treat various conditions (including anxiety and depression), at the same time listing dangerous potential drug side effects (stroke, suicidal thoughts…). Interspersed among all the rest are promos for films with horror or terror themes. The ads alone can give you nightmares! 

These frightening images and stories stick to our brains and fill us with fear and hopelessness. Isn’t it time to turn our backs on this noisy onslaught of negativity and look to our own hearts for a more positive way to live life? Turn off the TV and computer, put down your cell phone, and take a walk outside in a park or nature sanctuary. Find your inner balance among the trees and flowers. Listen to birdsong and the sweet silence that surrounds you. Look at the sky, morning, noon, or night, for inspiration and a deep sense of something greater guiding the universe. 

What if the cosmos unfolds independently of our longing for control? What if it’s on its own trajectory? A vast, constantly changing kaleidoscope of colors and light, an infinite matrix within which our souls live diverse human lives on Earth. What if everything we see and experience is part of a divinely orchestrated pattern that we have yet to fully perceive? Human life may be our entry point to wisdom and awareness as we pass through fear, recognizing it for the illusion it is, and step into the “peace beyond understanding” described by the great sages throughout time. Perhaps we are on exactly the right path to finally see the love and light that has always lived within all of us.

Granted these are intense times with many challenges, including public and private tragedies, but don’t let fear freeze you and make you incapable of standing up for the integrity of your own life and life itself. Remember that ancient wise teachers have foreseen this era of tumultuous transition and rebirth. We are not here to destroy ourselves or one another. We are here to recognize fully the blessing that each of us is—and the blessing that our Earth home is. Feel connection with your neighbors. Beneath the surface of all the turmoil and headlines that seem to crowd our daily lives, something else is occurring: the emergence of love instead of hate, cohesion instead of friction, open hands instead of closed fists. It won’t happen overnight, but it’s closer than you think.

This afternoon I turned away from my computer and walked outdoors just as the sun was slipping toward the horizon. I paused as a dragonfly landed on my foot and moved its wings silently, reflecting the light. In a tree nearby, a chickadee was calling “chick-a-dee-dee-dee” as it made its way through the branches. Bluejays flew from oak tree to oak tree, gathering acorns for the winter. Moments like these center my heart in the spacious stillness of all Being everywhere. Any lingering fears of the day fall away, and I am reminded once again that Life is bringing me, and every one of us, Home. Free and clear.

Infinite Intelligence

I like the term “Infinite Intelligence” as an alternative to “God,” which some people find too religious.* I appreciate the expansiveness of those two words, seeming to cover everything visible and invisible in the universe, and not associated with any one spiritual tradition. There is an overarching inclusiveness within them. To me, Infinite Intelligence can be used to describe everything: the stars and planets; humans and animals; bees and birds; stones and flowers. If we could see every living being and every so-called “inanimate object” as part of an intricate fabric of intelligence and light, maybe we would drop many of our preconceptions and assumptions.

About animals, for instance. Until recently, most humans did not give them credit for any intelligence. Their behavior was all based in “instinct.” Yet, if we look and listen closely, we will recognize great intelligence among these creatures who do not speak our language but very clearly communicate, with one another and with us. They live their lives with both intelligence and profound awareness, which is the basis of their relationship to the world. They move within it in a kind of intuitive flow, as if they are responding to highly developed directional cues that are invisible and inaudible to humans.

Throughout my life, I have experienced animal intelligence, love, playfulness, and humor. My dog Pepper was my constant childhood companion, and we invented countless imaginative games to play together outdoors. When I was an adult, my cats Edward and Lily repeatedly displayed their cleverness and sense of humor. Edward would remind me it was time for his breakfast by making chewing noises next to me as I slept. Lily would make me laugh if I was sad or upset by hiding behind the window shade and reaching around with her paw to ring the wind chimes. She often did yoga with my partner, Anne, and me, teaching us the best “cat poses”!

So-called “wild” animals also have intelligence and playful humor. A squirrel and I once had a “disagreement” when he removed a plastic flower from the hummingbird feeder and carried it to the top of a tree. As I scolded him, he looked directly down at me, licked the sugar off the flower methodically, and then dropped it at my feet. I had to laugh at this mischievous response. One summer, a family of raccoons nightly took turns jumping into our neighbors’ hammock and swinging back and forth. It was clearly a shared game that they enjoyed. 

Robins can become daily backyard companions with their cheery singing presence. One used to sit on a tree branch above my garden each morning and call to me insistently if I hadn’t refilled the birdbath with water soon enough. As I watered my flowers, I would often see a bumblebee “sleeping” there, nestled in the petals. One day, I leaned over to say “good morning.” The bee raised its front leg as if in answer. When I repeated my greeting, it repeated its response. A bee-to-human conversation!

Among themselves, birds and animals constantly communicate, both audibly and visually. I’ve heard two crows carrying on a “conversation” as they flew side by side high overhead. In a nearby park, I watched two dogs excitedly run to greet each other like old friends and immediately begin to play and chase each other as if in an improvisational skit. I’ve also seen wild dolphins playing and swimming together in perfect synchronicity in the ocean, often including me and other nearby humans in their water dances. It was like being immersed  in an amazing nonverbal connection arising from eye contact and shared thought/feeling transmission.

Moments like these, in my own backyard or beyond, reinforce my belief in the intelligence of all beings in this world. If we are open to it, we will see it. Infinite Intelligence is everywhere, within each of us and within the farthest reaches of the multiverse. Ultimately there really is no inner and outer, just a vast miraculous infinity that includes us all, heart to heart.
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*Thank you to Carol Bedrosian for our conversation about this.

Life as Drama…and Serenity

There are times when life feels like those famous drama masks that denote comedy and tragedy in theatrical productions. One mask is smiling, the other crying. On any given day, I can experience both laughter and tears, joy and sorrow. Sometimes both simultaneously. Each year brings new ways that life unfolds in all its dramatic diversity. Yet, underneath it all runs a balancing stream of serenity.

When I was growing up in the Midwest, I remember wondering, a bit fearfully, about the meaning of life as I looked up at the vast star-filled night sky. I wanted to be 9 years old forever, safely reading books in the branches of my favorite climbing tree. But I also wanted to travel the world. My life unfolded in ways that included both those ways of being, as well as extended spiritual exploration.

I continued to be an avid reader (and later a writer and editor) as well as a lover of Nature. I traveled extensively, swimming with wild dolphins in Costa Rica, whales in Hawaii; hiking Machu Picchu in Peru, the Alps in Switzerland. Vision quests in Montana and spiritual ceremonies with Maya elders at sacred sites in Guatemala. Over time, I came to realize that every bit of it was part of my soul’s journey for this lifetime, finding equilibrium among inner and outer experiences.

Growing older has brought unexpected challenges (e.g., breast cancer survivor), but ultimately these have taught me patience, acceptance, and resilience, day by day. Sadness about the passing of family members and friends, as well as apprehension about my own eventual death, are also part of aging. Still, simultaneously, my life is filled with so much joy and love: good friends, old and new, and my dear partner, Anne, with whom I’ve shared 43 years (!) of wonderful life adventures. Each morning we open the door to sunlight over the treetops and birds singing (robins, cardinals, song sparrows, goldfinches). Who could not feel grateful for blessings such as these?

I’ve learned that whether you are crying or laughing, 9 or 90, there is always some beauty to be found in the world (in spite of political conflict or personal pain)—in Nature and in the loving kindness of friends and strangers alike. At any time, I can set aside the tearful mask and pick up the smiling one; let go of worry and embrace trust. Each moment holds all of life. Sometimes we need to cry and release sorrow. But we also need to laugh and find the sweetness of life. And make our way to the inclusive space of neutrality and peace that lives within.

The soul is timeless, not attached to the human framework of hours/minutes; it is beyond circumstance and action/reaction. In our souls we are pure Presence, and we know we are infinite. The temporary form we inhabit while on Earth has experiences while the eternal soul observes everything. Eventually, it all blends together as One. Any separation is an illusion that we realize as we transition, or if we are fortunate, at moments of awakened awareness while we are still in physical form.

With each second that passes, with each precious breath we take, we can open our heart of hearts to a soul vision that will guide our lives to the serenity within the drama. We are here in our human lives to do just that. It is what is meant by Peace on Earth.

Spring Stillness and Sound

One sunny day this past April, I spent several hours walking among the trees, flowers, dells, and ponds of my favorite nature sanctuary, Mt. Auburn Cemetery. Spring is pure paradise at Mt. Auburn: Leave your physical form at the front gate and become one with the spirit of seasonal rebirth all around you! There is an underlying stillness that fills the air. Even the birdsong and wind through the trees seem to arise from that stillness.

I could feel it in my own heart as I listened to the trilling of hundreds of American toads at Halcyon Lake and sat next to the sunning turtles at Willow Pond. My eyes closed, I sensed both the life-force energy and the profound silence within the sounds of spring. All motivation for movement of any kind fell away. I stopped taking the occasional nature photo—it felt like a distraction. 

I was reminded of visiting the Hopi mesas in Arizona, where the indigenous people there ask that visitors not use cameras or take pictures. I can remember a sense of relief and letting go into the immediacy of the experience. No striving to record what was happening, just a release into Presence, fully connected, heart and soul. The Hopi in their wisdom know that this is the essence of daily life, being fully present. This memory filled my awareness as I opened my eyes and saw the turtles with their heads raised to the warmth and light of the sun. In sitting with them, I too was fully present.

Temples, spiritual sanctuaries, and libraries usually request that visitors observe silence while there. Cemeteries too ask for quiet, in respect for those who have passed and those who may be grieving. I feel that Mother Nature asks this of us as well in all natural settings. When the noise of traffic, machinery, and human voices falls away, there is just silence, the essential stillness of the human soul—where we come home and know fully that we and Nature are one.

In springtime, at a place like Mt. Auburn, where life visibly renews itself in the flowers and trees and the migrating birds, I experience this most profoundly. My inner spirit is also renewed listening to the infinitely varied voices of Nature all around me, which are somehow part of the silence. As I walk, eyes, ears, and heart fully open, any residue of mental separation disappears: no subject or object; no this and that. Stillness and sound are One, within me and everywhere else.

Growing Up Walden

One of my father’s favorite books was Walden by Henry David Thoreau. He loved Thoreau’s immersion in the natural world and his emphasis on a simple life. Recently, when I was watching a PBS documentary on Thoreau and his time living alone in the woods at Walden Pond, I remembered my childhood in Illinois and how my dad had created his own version of Walden on the five acres where my parents built a house nine years before I was born. The land had a number of old oak trees and a couple of streams running through it but was otherwise mainly open fields. By the time I was a young child playing there, my dad and mom had planted shade trees, evergreens, bushes, vegetable and flower gardens, a fruit orchard, and berry patches. The vibrant beauty of Nature surrounded me every day. Without realizing it, I was growing up immersed in Walden consciousness.

“Simplify, simplify, simplify,” my dad would often quote Thoreau. No wonder I inherited an aversion to complications and clutter—and a love of Nature’s beautiful simplicity. When I read Walden in college, it all came together for me. Thoreau’s writing, as well as that of other Transcendentalists like Emerson, aligned with my heart and soul. Thoreau’s small wooden cabin in the forest by Walden Pond seemed to call to me. A number of years later, I moved to Massachusetts, and Walden became a special sanctuary for me where I often walked the trails and gazed at the trees, water, and sky. In any season, it radiated peace and tranquility. It was as if Thoreau’s solitary spirit watched over and protected it.

When my parents flew from Chicago to Boston to visit me, two dear friends drove us out to Walden so that my dad could see it in person. It was a special moment for all of us because we knew how greatly he admired Thoreau and his philosophy. My father continued to plant mini-Waldens in other Illinois locations where my parents lived in later years. And I too have created “Waldens” in the various backyards (or porches) of houses where I have had an apartment.

Currently, my partner Anne and I live in a condo which faces a woods thick with deciduous trees and evergreens. Bird song fills the air when I open our deck doors at sunrise, and we hear spring peepers or summer crickets trilling after dark. Walden once again synchronistically surrounds me, the perfect circle of a lifetime. Early in my life, I learned that the wonders of the Earth are ever-present; every day I see them wherever I live. I am deeply grateful to Thoreau, my dad, and all those magical years of “growing up Walden.”
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Artwork above: “Thoreau’s View,” by Anne Katzeff