Feeling as Part of the World

I went to my little nook on the hill and read (interestingly I didn't need my glasses today) and followed the book.  It seemed to take a little more than an hour, but time wasn't anything I noted until after I was done.  I felt a much deeper sense of belonging and contentment.  I very much felt that the Earth and I being the same was much more than a metaphor.  Through this reading it became real.

In hind sight I think my dog was trying to show me how great it was to be in nature.  For as I read and contemplated, she was doing drive byes on me.  She knew I was in between things and she'd come flying by and attack me, with love.  She'd then speed of a be gone for 10-15 minutes. As it was happening I just enjoyed it, but now I see her wisdom.  She's the consummate optimist, as an old family friend used to say it's a great day for the race!  We'd ask which race and he'd always say the human race, ain't that the truth.

I also had a clear vision and understanding that everything we as humans have done to make our lives easier has actually increased our stress and disconnected us from nature and our natural senses.  Almost every advance of modern man has been done to reduce our work load to give us more free time.  If we get any more help with our workload we won't be able to sleep; we won't have enough time. Instead of being freed by modern science we've become slaves of it.  I can't help but think that the movies of the robots taking over in the future aren't fantasy they're reliable predictions ; Even this computer we use to carry on this class is also a way to disconnect. If I feel stressed I can escape here rather than deal with it and the information available to me can even create more stress and/or distraction from the problem; the disconnection from nature.

What I found even more interesting was that I saw my self in balance, but at an unnatural place.  I'm balanced at a point of disequilibrium that doesn't include a balanced diet, enough exercise, or enough time outside (even though I've quadrupled my outdoor time and raised my connection when I'm there exponentially.)

I found myself seriously thinking about getting off the grid.  How can I live on my land without the power, water, or phone company. Could I raise most of my own food, how will I cook and still not pollute. Living simple disconnected from technology and connected to nature.

I walked home letting the natural attractions show themselves.  They said hi, we're glad you see up now with more than your eyes.

I learned to see myself more clearly today.  I could see myself as an integral part of nature with responsibilities to tend to the earth. I also keep seeing if I pay attention to nature, whether it is my dog or the wind I will at least, the very least feel love.

If we are in true balance, we see where we are, not where we'd like to be. Conservation is everyone's life's work. We can live with in our spiritual means and not spend a penny.

I feel more a part of the world.

A REACTION:  I am a trained scientist, only I got trained in plant and soil science, which supported the natural web of life attractions calling to me since arriving in this planet time. I see myself as someone who is capable of reintroducing the soul into science, which would probable balance the science and shaman inside of me...what a thought! THANKS!

Comments

[Catrien Ross]

For Twig, who wrote to Catrien Ross on February 14, 2008. Twig, where are you now? I cried and cried when I read your post - more than 30 years have passed! How wonderful that we are able to make a connection again through writing about nature. Please try to get in touch with me again - I do not know how to find you. I remember our long hike in the rain from Arrochar to Inverary so well. You can try to reach me through Dr. Michael J. Cohen/ Ecopsychology-Natural Systems Thinking Process. Email to nature@interisland.net

['Twig']

this is for Catrien Ross who wrote this poem for me back in 1975 : 'That music is a song we sang on the road from Arrochar to Inverary . And this lamp, this table and this chair are nothing in the memory of wind and rain, the road that would be twisting round again before we reached the end. My friend, my lovely singing friend, we have thrown time into the wind like music we may never catch it again. '

[Catrien Ross]

The Rain and After

We had two days of strong thunderstorms here. The walls of the house moved with the thunderclaps. Lightning cracked open the dark sky. But I went outside and sheltered for a short time under the wide overhang of the roof. I was attracted to being a part of the strength of the storm, if only for a moment. Rain poured from the roof and made rivers in the soil. The tops of the trees to the west seemed to greet the thunder and lightning. There was a sense of incredible rhythm and coordination. I felt connected to a source of tremendous power.

After...

In the early evening I go out to the garden. The thunderstorms are over for now. I go to the small, level area where I practice my energy medicine exercises and ask permission to sit for awhile. Four of the dogs are with me.

Sitting on the little, old wooden chair (given to me by an adult student who no longer needed it), I look to the west and up at the sky. Billowing white clouds are slowly drifting. There is a stillness in the air. The day feels done with being the day. I am also done with my busyness. I have worked hard physically today, and I realize how tired my feet are. It feels good to sit here like this. I am aware of my gratitude for this moment of rest. I close my eyes and breathe deeply. Around me I can hear cicadas. Birds are still singing in the trees. I listen to the rush of water beyond the hinoki forest.

I open my eyes and continue watching the clouds shift across the sky. They are moving westward, into the setting sun. Where the sun sets there is a well of light, luminous and inviting. The light seems to lift and define the clouds, edging them in its glow. It illuminates a pathway that the clouds seem to want to follow. One by one they enter this shining space. I sense that I, too, can drift into the space in me where everything can come to rest in light - the still center of me. My authentic core.

When I turn my head to look over my left shoulder I see that the sky is still blue. But when I look north towards the tallest mountain the sky is already overcast, darkening into night. Kiki nestles down by my feet. Maeve and Bel and Donnie Dhu wander around, sniffing the soaked soil. Another good day together.

From this experience in nature I learn that I am a person who gets good feelings from simply sitting under the sky's expanse. I get good feelings, too, from the generosity I sense in the sweep of blue, in the shifting clouds backlit by the last rays of daylight.

[Catrien Ross]

Gratitude

It has been raining a lot (the rainy season has begun in Japan's southernmost islands), so in a lull in the downpour I took a walk. Everything smelled and looked so fresh, so relieved, so relaxed. Many plants were bowed low to the soil and tree branches hung weighted with rain. The air felt cleansed, the mood of the landscape, washed and slow. As I stood looking out over the hills, I silently thanked this world which brings rain when it is needed, which gives everything a bath and soaks the soil and satisfies the natural world's thirst. I, too, felt refreshed, but slow, not wanting to walk too far or too fast, just enjoying the new feeling after rain.

I felt like walking up to one of the big paulownia trees, and did so. I asked it if it was all right for me to stand up against it. Yes, it seemed to say, yes, you can even touch me. I put my hand on its trunk. The trunk was cracked and bumpy, like a hard skin with many crevices. In many places patches of moss and lichens softened the surface. I felt it was just fine if I pressed my fingers into a circle of moss. It was green and springy, soaked. In the moss silver grey lichens shimmered. What looked like tiny sprouting seeds stood up from the moss. They, too, did not seem to mind when I gently touched them. I stood under the tree, leaning my hand against the bark, sensing the rain, the new heaviness of the trunk. There we stood, the tree and I, both grateful for the cycle of the rain. I looked up into the upper branches - the leaves were just emerging. There were patches of moss and lichens all the way up the trunk. The trunk looked mottled. A tiny brown insect moved suddenly. I looked closer. Another little grasshopper.

I breathed deeply and thanked the tree for its existence on the mountain, in my so-called garden. I felt very peaceful, grateful, more aware. I sensed trust - trust in myself and also the trust in being trusted by the tree. I stroked the bark once more, enjoying its rough surface against the palm of my hand. Then I took my hand away, bowed to the tree, and turned and walked back up the path.