Tag: nature

Seasonal Changes, Inner and Outer

It’s October and blue jays are flying past our windows again, calling loudly. We moved into our condo one year ago, and it took us a couple of weeks to figure out why so many blue jays were flying by: They were gathering acorns from the nearby oak trees to store for the winter! I’ve been around blue jays all my life, but I never knew they did that until now. It just shows how you learn new things wherever you go and at different times in your life. Your awareness expands….

For instance, I seem to be more aware of subtle seasonal changes here, looking out at the woods and surrounding area. I notice how the trees live their lives intricately aligned with the seasons, as do the birds and all other living things there. Colors change throughout the year: green leaves and multi-colored flowers in spring/summer; golds and reds of autumn; white snows in winter. All of it, a constantly shifting visual dance before me.

Sounds, too, change with the seasons. In the early spring, the calls of peepers (frogs) fill the woods at night, almost deafening at times, but also rich with promise and wonder—new beginnings! Soon the birds pass through on their annual spring migrations, and the trees resound with bird song: cardinals, robins, red-winged blackbirds, catbirds, orioles, song sparrows, wrens. The calls and songs continue into the summer as the birds nest and raise their young. In the late summer, locusts buzz in the hot evening air, and the chirping of crickets echoes in the woods. A cricket concert every night! In the winter, I hear chickadees, goldfinches, nuthatches, titmice, and woodpeckers. On a snowy day, these birds visit neighbors’ feeders in the soft and soothing silence.

Throughout the year, I experience these changes daily on my walks, and my heart overflows with such appreciation for the wonders of Nature right outside my door (and windows). The seasonal parade of blooming trees and flowers is thrilling every month of the year: snowdrops, crocuses, forsythia, daffodils, hyacinth, tulips, azalea, redbud, magnolia, dogwood, iris, rhododendron, lilacs, roses, daisies, spirea, lilies, peonies, hydrangea, coreopsis, echinacea, butterfly weed, zinnias, marigolds, gayfeathers, black-eyed susan, ageratum, goldenrod, rose of Sharon, sunflowers, and bright red winterberries. I love looking forward to the appearance of each one as the year goes by—always a new burst of color to brighten my day, 

It is a joy to be present for all these transformative moments as the year moves through its cycles. I have lived with the seasons all my life, but now I notice them more acutely. As if I have become one with an infinite Awareness that holds all things in full peaceful presence. From that vantage point, there is no separation—only the light of Being everywhere. The sights and sounds of the seasons are within me as well as outside. Mother Earth gives us such remarkable gifts every single day.

Worry and Its Antidotes

Our minds often seem to be looking for something to worry about: “Who will be elected?” “Why is that person coughing?” “What’s that noise?” If we go online, we are continually bombarded with potential fears: a new COVID variant, rising costs, droughts, floods, shootings…. These stories feed right into the part of our brain that is a problem-solver. A useful attribute, but if the brain can’t find a solution to a problem, it gets diverted to the worry channel. The “What if” station, which seems to become particularly active at night when we are tired. Worries about yourself, your loved ones, and the whole world can take over your life if you let them. So don’t let them…..

What’s the antidote? you ask. Well, I find that there are many, and I have to remember to be open to them all. Remembering is key. In fact, that’s the number 1 step: Recognizing that you are caught in worrying. That puts a brake on and allows you to step sideways into another frame of mind (and heart). I say “heart” because often it’s the heart’s perspective that unlocks the closed door to the room where you are trapped with your worries running wild.

The heart is an optimist. It sees flowers when you might see poison ivy. It sees love when you are caught in fear or anger. How to connect to the heart? Take a walk outside in a park or anywhere else where you can see trees, hear birds, look up at the sky. Nature is a major heart connector. I take daily walks to keep myself centered in a positive frame of mind, to live from my heart and not from mental fears. If something difficult does arise, my heart’s spirit guides me through.

Friends and family can also be antidotes. Anyone close to you who is a good listener and can help you realize that your worries are not necessarily destined to materialize. In fact, most of the time they don’t. Mark Twain had a great saying, which I used to keep posted above my desk: “I have known a great many troubles in my life, most of which never happened.” Perfect description of how our minds make our worries seem real, when they aren’t. They are passing thoughts, which may or may not take form. Why waste time (and your life) focusing on them?

I’ve learned over the years (and keep learning) to find ways to divert my mind when it goes into worry overdrive. Music and poetry* help. Walking helps. Nature helps. Meditation** and yoga. A favorite sitcom rerun on TV. Eating healthy food I love (e.g., cherries, grapes, avocados). The kindness of those close to me who listen and reassure me with simple words like “Yes, I understand.” (My partner is very good at this.) There are countless ways to find positivity in your daily life and open your heart in the process. Because when your heart is open and really connected to life’s wonders and beauty, worries fade to the background and may disappear entirely.

And if they return tomorrow in different guises, you and I always have effective antidotes at hand. As the wise tell us, “Love is stronger than fear.” I’ve found that to be true, again and again.
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*This song always lifts my heart: “I Am Light” by India.Arie: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l2E3dBtTtBw. And Mary Oliver’s poem “I Worried” is the perfect antidote: https://www.mindfulnessassociation.net/words-of-wonder/i-worried-mary-oliver/.
**Every morning I listen to Panache Desai’s free online meditation Call to Calm: https://www.panachedesai.com/.

Experience or Interpretation?

Philosophers, historians, and scientists spend their lives interpreting the world around them. We grow up seeing our world through the filters they have created with their interpretations. Even the language we use to describe the world reflects their views. Yet these very interpretations change from decade to decade, century to century. If we pause and step away from the filters, we realize that these ever-shifting, but seemingly solid “truths” may be keeping us from the immediacy of a life experienced without filters, sometimes called “Presence.”

If you are fully present within each moment, aware of each breath, filters fall away, and the need for interpretation falls away too. Yes, language is useful to human beings for communicating and connecting with one another, but an even deeper inner connection happens in silence. The stillness of your soul “speaks” wordlessly in that silence. This must have been what poet William Blake experienced when he wrote of seeing “a world in a grain of sand” and “eternity in a moment.” The poetry of Presence shows us an infinite interwoven tapestry of light that fills the multiverse beyond imagination. Language falls short as the heart overflows with wonder and awe. The only adequate response is, once again, silence.

This is what I experience every time I walk alone in Nature. There is nothing between me and Presence. Any interpretations I still carry with me dissolve in the stillness. I feel one with all beings and with pure Being itself. I am Presence. In those moments, I am aware that there is nothing else. How to remain centered in that space as I go through my day? Not always easy. Old interpretation filters remain within me and bombard my consciousness from every direction. The key is to keep bringing myself back to the direct experience in front of me.

To take a deep breath and see rather than think about what I’m seeing. To not get lost in my mind and its meanderings. We have a choice in each moment to fully focus on the experience before us or to sidetrack into the thought process it engenders. Distraction happens, it’s human, but we can bring ourselves back to the present moment and the present experience by remembering. Conscious awareness.

Will human beings continue to interpret the world around them in order to understand it better? Probably. Yet at a certain point in our lives, as we live year after year with changing reality filters, we may come to see constant interpretation as somehow falling short of a full experience of life. Interpretation can be fun at times (some might call this blog an interpretation—ha!), but perhaps as a side trip, not the entire journey. Interpretation as one experience in a vast spectrum of experiences.

The key is to keep returning to the conscious Presence within us, which connects directly to the experience before us. To shine the light of awareness on any potential filters and allow words to drop away, if even for a few moments. How can words possibly describe the extraordinary magnificence of the universe we inhabit without getting in the way of our direct experience of it? Silently inhale the stillness and you become one with it all.

Sweet Peas and Dancing Trees

When you move from one place to another, the way in which you view your surroundings day to day changes. Depending on how far you move and how different one location is from another, your perceptional shift can be imperceptible or radical. But it always happens. When I was in my 20s and 30s, I used to move frequently for just this reason: it was like throwing everything up in the air and starting all over again. Whether across town or coast to coast, the world was a different place. Traveling has the same effect. All my senses come alive in new ways. I am consciously interrupting habit, and I love it.

My partner and I recently moved to a condo on the opposite side of Boston from where we had lived for years in various apartments. This was after a move to Florida for two years. It is wonderful to be back in Massachusetts, and this current move has introduced us to an entirely unfamiliar town, quite different from where we used to live. It took a number of months for me to open fully to the change. I really missed where we lived for so many years (which was very close to Mt. Auburn Cemetery, my favorite nature sanctuary). Now, however, gradually, the sense of newness is reawakening my full awareness in unexpected ways.

For instance, last week on my daily walk I discovered bright pink and white sweet peas growing wild in the area next to the woods across from our condo. It was such a delight because it reminded me of my childhood in the Illinois countryside, where sweet peas blanketed the fences with their beautiful blooms. I never knew they could grow wild in the fields like I am seeing here. These were covered with bees and butterflies, and I stood watching them for quite a while in deep appreciation.

This past spring the cherry, crab apple, and red bud trees blooming here were also a surprise, as were the dozens of song sparrows and house finches singing all day from March on. Joined by cardinals, robins, Carolina wrens, gold finches, red-winged blackbirds, and catbirds, they have been a particularly powerful welcoming for me, as I was uncertain how many birds would be nearby. But the woods that surround the condo buildings are a natural habitat for them. Flocks of spring migrants have flown in, as well as birds that remain here all year. The entire area is alive with avian life.

The trees themselves are my latest source of inspiration and wonder. As the weather and winds change, the tall, intensely green oak, maple, beech, birch, and other trees reflect the shifts in air movement in quite dramatic ways. They dance! From our third-floor windows, I watch them quite literally dance with the wind, swaying synchronously like an Alvin Ailey or Martha Graham dance troupe. The music of the spheres seems to move them, and I feel a part of the greater movement of the universe as I watch their collective branch and leaf motion so perfectly in unison against the sky and clouds. Each time I gaze at them is a fresh look at life itself.

Every day now, my heart expands in gratitude for these gifts of Nature that surround me—and for the ability to see and hear them. As my habitual ways of perceiving fall away, the world opens up around me, and I remember that this can happen anywhere at any time. Moving does shake things up, but I can also keep my sensual acuity sharp by living each moment with wide-open awareness. Even walking in the same area in different seasons is a continually new experience. As I look out my window each morning at the ever-changing details of the natural world before me, I feel such joy—and my soul dances with the trees.

The Most Beautiful Place on Earth

I’ve been visiting it regularly for more than 40 years: Mt. Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Founded in 1831 as the nation’s first garden cemetery, it remains a place of natural beauty and peace for those mourning loved ones as well as those who come to walk quietly and appreciate the diverse landscape. Old oaks and maples, flowering trees and bushes, butterfly garden and wildflower meadow, ponds, dells, and hills all combine to create a vibrant habitat and nature sanctuary. To me, in every season, it truly is the most beautiful place on Earth: the deep greens of summer, the red/gold/orange leaves of fall, the sparkling snows of winter—but especially the rainbow colors in springtime.

Spring! The word carries within it the feeling and the movement of the season. My heart literally springs with joy when I walk through Mt. Auburn’s gates and see the new yellow-green leaves on the trees and the daffodils and narcissus springing into bloom. These are special days of excitement and joy for me, too, because of the annual spring bird migration: a vast diversity of birds flying marathon miles from Central and South America to North America. Many of them I see only once a year as they stop on their flights north to nest and raise their young. Each sighting is a cause for celebration. Yay—you made it, sweet little being!

At the end of April this year, I made my first spring trip across town to Mt. Auburn, and as I walked along Indian Ridge to Auburn Lake (also known as Spectacle Pond), tears filled my eyes at the beauty of the azaleas bursting with red and white blossoms and the magnolias covered with huge pink blooms. And then the birdsong! Warblers, tanagers, thrushes, catbirds, and the whistling notes of the orioles, all of them virtuosos of song. No human symphony orchestra could be more varied and beautiful. Every year I feel this way. Every year I know I have walked into paradise on Earth, a gift of a lifetime.

Machu Picchu and the Napali Coast are spectacularly stunning, as are the Southwest’s red-rock deserts and the Caribbean’s turquoise seas. So many wonders in the world, all extraordinary—and yet, it is a small, quiet nature cemetery in Massachusetts that moves me most, heart and soul. I feel Spirit everywhere there. My parents are with me, as is every friend I’ve ever shared a walk there with. And every migrating bird I’ve seen in every year since the 1980s, each special and unrepeatable.

The memories are countless, all of them interwoven with the course of my life—and continuing into the future. One of the reasons that Anne and I moved back to Massachusetts after two years in Florida was for those longtime memories of people and places here. Including our wedding at Auburn Lake with friends and family present exactly ten years ago this June! The saying goes that “beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” True, but for me it’s in the heart of the beholder. There is no beautiful place on Earth that touches my heart more than Mt. Auburn Cemetery.