Dear Traveler,
This made me think of you, so here I am to share it.
At the end of yesterday morning’s meditation and prayer time, the image of a nearby demolition site floated into my awareness. A large, historical building was torn down, and during the ensuing five-year tussle over who should be allowed to rebuild there (and how high), nature has reclaimed the space. A half-acre concrete slab, bordered by asphalt and littered with gravel and broken bricks, now sprouts a wildly abstract carpet of audacious weeds and hopeful saplings. The bright spirits of the neighborhood arts community interweave the surrounding chain link fence with ephemeral art and benevolent signage in an ever-changing public canvas. New life reigns (and rains) in the fought-over but otherwise neglected territory.
Everything wants to return to nature.
What is man-made is mostly unsustainable. A building, an amusement park – even a farm; none of these can replenish themselves. Nature is in a constant, reliable, and never-ending state of renewal. As in the example of the abandoned building site above, nature will subtly but powerfully heal a wound wherever it finds one. Our bodies, if not our spirits, are part of and governed by nature. If most of our diseases are man-made, should we not also be able to heal if we “get out of the way” and let nature address our wounds?
How do we do this? Granted, some illnesses have an acute onset or are life-threatening, and need immediate addressing by whatever means will be life-saving. But afterwards, in the healing time, we can still turn to nature, and with respect and humility, learn to work with its compassionate intelligence.
Think of a hatching chick, persevering for hours or days to peck its way out of its shell, gaining strength for the life ahead. The hen never interferes with this process, living in a state of acceptance that all is as it should be. Think of those remarkable wind-bent pines growing along the timber line, sometimes on sheer cliff faces. They send out their roots, gripping tenaciously wherever the smallest pocket of soil is found. And they survive, bringing such poignant beauty to the landscape. Surely our own well-being is worth the same effort. Here’s the kicker: sometimes the effort lies in doing nothing except what comes naturally (or would if we’d let it).
What seems difficult to our thinking minds is simple when we’re flowing with nature’s way. I’d never say easy, just simple. For example, the depth of relaxation that promotes real healing is one of the most difficult things for 21st century humans to achieve. It requires no particular action, yet at the same time it’s not about sipping margaritas on the beach (which is more like pressing the “pause” button for a brief moment in an otherwise stressful life; nothing really changes.) What I’m learning is that true relaxation is a state of intense aliveness, vibrant, fully engaged, and joyful; it involves not doing all the things that prevent the free flow of life from coursing through our bodies. Not thinking too much, just be-ing more. Not suppressing creativity, desires, emotions, but either shifting them or giving them expression, as appropriate. Think of grazing deer… completely relaxed and at one with their natural surroundings (and their own inner natures), yet poised and alert – in other words, fully alive.
There will always be casualties of illness and injury, for various reasons. Sometimes despite our best efforts things just can’t change quickly enough, and we all know the state of the planet makes it virtually impossible for anyone, anywhere, to be 100% healthy. That said, there is nothing preventing every single one of us from walking a grace-filled healing journey; learning, accepting, awakening. That’s my wish for us all.
Be like the deer.
With love, rosemary
This made me think of you, so here I am to share it.
At the end of yesterday morning’s meditation and prayer time, the image of a nearby demolition site floated into my awareness. A large, historical building was torn down, and during the ensuing five-year tussle over who should be allowed to rebuild there (and how high), nature has reclaimed the space. A half-acre concrete slab, bordered by asphalt and littered with gravel and broken bricks, now sprouts a wildly abstract carpet of audacious weeds and hopeful saplings. The bright spirits of the neighborhood arts community interweave the surrounding chain link fence with ephemeral art and benevolent signage in an ever-changing public canvas. New life reigns (and rains) in the fought-over but otherwise neglected territory.
Everything wants to return to nature.
What is man-made is mostly unsustainable. A building, an amusement park – even a farm; none of these can replenish themselves. Nature is in a constant, reliable, and never-ending state of renewal. As in the example of the abandoned building site above, nature will subtly but powerfully heal a wound wherever it finds one. Our bodies, if not our spirits, are part of and governed by nature. If most of our diseases are man-made, should we not also be able to heal if we “get out of the way” and let nature address our wounds?
How do we do this? Granted, some illnesses have an acute onset or are life-threatening, and need immediate addressing by whatever means will be life-saving. But afterwards, in the healing time, we can still turn to nature, and with respect and humility, learn to work with its compassionate intelligence.
Think of a hatching chick, persevering for hours or days to peck its way out of its shell, gaining strength for the life ahead. The hen never interferes with this process, living in a state of acceptance that all is as it should be. Think of those remarkable wind-bent pines growing along the timber line, sometimes on sheer cliff faces. They send out their roots, gripping tenaciously wherever the smallest pocket of soil is found. And they survive, bringing such poignant beauty to the landscape. Surely our own well-being is worth the same effort. Here’s the kicker: sometimes the effort lies in doing nothing except what comes naturally (or would if we’d let it).
What seems difficult to our thinking minds is simple when we’re flowing with nature’s way. I’d never say easy, just simple. For example, the depth of relaxation that promotes real healing is one of the most difficult things for 21st century humans to achieve. It requires no particular action, yet at the same time it’s not about sipping margaritas on the beach (which is more like pressing the “pause” button for a brief moment in an otherwise stressful life; nothing really changes.) What I’m learning is that true relaxation is a state of intense aliveness, vibrant, fully engaged, and joyful; it involves not doing all the things that prevent the free flow of life from coursing through our bodies. Not thinking too much, just be-ing more. Not suppressing creativity, desires, emotions, but either shifting them or giving them expression, as appropriate. Think of grazing deer… completely relaxed and at one with their natural surroundings (and their own inner natures), yet poised and alert – in other words, fully alive.
There will always be casualties of illness and injury, for various reasons. Sometimes despite our best efforts things just can’t change quickly enough, and we all know the state of the planet makes it virtually impossible for anyone, anywhere, to be 100% healthy. That said, there is nothing preventing every single one of us from walking a grace-filled healing journey; learning, accepting, awakening. That’s my wish for us all.
Be like the deer.
With love, rosemary
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