Tag: nature

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.
———
*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.”
————
Artwork above: “Thoreau’s View,” by Anne Katzeff

The Miracle of Murmuration

There is a wonderful video online that shows thousands and thousands of starlings flying in synchronized sweeping movements through the skies of the Netherlands. It is a fantastical aerial dance, the birds moving as one across the entire sky. This spectacular sight has a name: murmuration, which refers to the sound of the birds’ wings. The term is applied specifically to starlings, and it doesn’t only occur in Europe. I have seen hundreds of starlings in Massachusetts flying like this, swooping and changing directions repeatedly, high overhead, moving as one mind, one avian soul. An astonishing sight. 

To me, murmuration is a perfect visual demonstration of how we live in a cosmically connected universe orchestrated by a greater Intelligence. There are no events or experiences that are not part of this infinite whole, which forms a kaleidoscopic tapestry of moving light and color. In our daily lives, we don’t usually notice how it all fits together, but occasionally something may make us stop and stare in wonder: a spectacular lightning storm; a lunar or solar eclipse; migrating Canada geese flying in a perfectly formed giant V. As we pause, we may speculate on the possible source of these phenomena (Spirit? Nature?), but whatever name we use for life’s magic and mysteries, the miracles on this Earth are beyond human language. We can only experience them in awe.

A number of years ago, I went on several trips to swim with wild dolphins and whales in the open ocean. Dolphins too engage in their own form of “murmuration.” They frequently move as one as they travel through the seas. “Dolphin mind” I’ve called it, and I’ve been part of it myself on more than one occasion. Once, as I swam at a distance from a pod of spinner dolphins in Hawaii, I found myself moving to the right at the exact same moment that they did. There was no conscious decision on my part. I was just suddenly swimming in synchronicity with them as they swam closer. I felt a part of whatever telepathy passed among them. It was an unforgettable feeling.

Such moments—whether watching birds or dolphins or trees moving as one with the wind—have filled my life with a deeper sense of connection to all things. And to a belief that the seemingly impassive and distant cosmos all around us is in truth within us as well. These connections, visible and invisible, are interwoven throughout the universe. Life on Earth and across the galaxies is perfectly related. The moon affects the ocean tides, as well as our inner fluidity. We are moved in every moment by something greater than even our own imagination: murmuration sweeping through all our senses. The heartbeat of the universe.
*Photograph above by Nicole Pearlstein 
Starlings in flight: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V4f_1_r80RY