The Details

 

 

Whenever I go out into the forest with my camera I am, inevitably,  looking for details:

simple little things that might otherwise be overlooked in the larger context.

 

 

Like a yellow flower, one of 3 that are still clinging to life despite the approaching winter.

 

 

Or a small green shoot delicately wound around a tree branch.

 

It's these small lives that come together to create the symphony that is the forest.

What I can't show you is the way it smells, especially when wet. Or the sound of the wind as it rustles through the trees. Those are the parts that you need to imagine.

 

 

Those are the things I can't show you.

Forest Wisdom

 

 

This morning I took a walk in the forest looking for wisdom.

 

 

What caught me was the imperfections.

 

 They are everywhere.

                                                                           

 

 

For every tree that stands tall and straight

 

 

There are many more that carry scars, blemishes, imperfections. 

Untold stories.

No matter how twisted by time,  they continue to grow.

Reaching ever upward toward the light.

 

 

The forest is full of these perfectly imperfect trees.

 

 

Make a Wish

When I was small, I truly believed in the power of making wishes.

 

I believed that if you closed your eyes tight enough, and thought your wish hard enough, that blowing away all the dandelion seeds would make your wish come true. 

I don't remember what I wished for back then.

Only that I did so, frequently and often.

Now that I am grown, I still believe in the power of making wishes.

But I find myself making them less often;

and usually only in times of great want or fear. 

I think it's high time I get back to my earlier practice:

wish making with wild abandon.

Wish making with alacrity.

After all, if it did nothing else, the dandelions would certainly appreciate the help. 

Forest After Rain

The first thing that hits you is the colour: spring green. 

It is everywhere; all lit up and fragrant when wet. 

And then the droplets.

They remind you that everything, no matter how small, has a destiny.

Water is one of nature's most profound gifts. 

It replenishes, renews, and refreshes. 

It allows everything to move forward.

Wild as Flowers

It is  unreasonable to value one flower over another.

They all exist to be beautiful. And they all do this uniquely. 

Some have aquired more popularity. 

Some, more notariety. 

But none of them cease to blossom because they don't like their place in the world.

They are each full in their unique design.

And even when they turn back to seed they still find a way to be beautiful.

We are the same.

We are unique and wild as flowers.

The Inevitability of Spring

Spring never happens in a straight line.

It begins, but inevitably, at some point, there is a step back.

In that moment, the world dozes off for a while.

This is pause without defeat. 

An inbreath. 

Year after year, nature always finds her way to spring.

Regardless of how many steps back she encounters along the way.

Spring will not be denied.

It persists and it will always win.

Every year. 

No matter how deep the spring snow. 

In a world of flux and change and shifting ground, spring is inevitable.

And it will never let you down.
You can rely on it.

The Meditation of Blue

Blue is the language of the sky. 

Blue is what waits for us, on the other side of clouds.

Quiet. Peace. Endless expanse.

All you need to do is look up. 

The Planet Speaks

This begins with a question:

if the planet we live on had something to tell us....how would she say it?

Spring has a voice: the sound of birdsong, the colour green that erupts from every crevice.

But what if the planet herself had something to say.

Something she wanted us to hear. 

How would she say it?

It is a large leap of imagination to imagine that the virus we are currently facing could be the planet trying to tell us something. 

What if, instead of reacting in fear, we just pause for a moment and listen:

Here are some ideas of what she might be trying to say:

Slow down.

Turn inward.

Focus on what is really important: your health, your community, your loved ones. 

Your mental well being and creativity are sacrosanct.

Reprioritize your life based on these things.

Put other people's safety ahead of your frivilous enjoyment.

Care for your vulnerable.

Protect your weak.

Your own basic needs are simple: food, water, shelter. 

Tend to those and then open yourself to the vast richness of time and space:

Let your mind free to take you to new and unknown places.

Tap into the depth of who you are and what you can do.

Imagine, if only for a moment, that the planet we live on allows our continuance because she wants us here. That she works diligently to maintain the necessary balances to support our life and the continuance of our species. 

What if she has our best interests at heart?
Always.

It's worth imagining. 

TheTenacity of Roots

The things that hold us firm.

The things that ground us.

That sustain and feed us. 

When everything else falls away.

And even when they are pulled up from the soil

They are the things we return to.

Again and again. 

Adaptation

You don't have to go very far in nature to see examples of how it adapts.

Things change and accomodations are made. 

We can't always see what was being accomodated, but what we can see is that nature is fluid:

willing to stop, change direction, work around and continue.

When things break in nature they don't get discarded. 

They often get repurposed or become homes for other things, but they remain.

The cracks and twists tell their own story.

There is an inherent beauty in these ravages. 

The Individuality of Trees

Trees are a tribe.

A collection of individuals connected through their roots.

Living side by side through the seasons. Weathering all manner of storms.

Their legacy is air, food, shade and shelter. 

Their bark is like skin: weathered, worn, individual.

Most trees are scarred and torn. Their branches are often twisted and pulled.

They resist perfection. 

And yet, each one is perfect. 

No two are alike.

I find myself wanting to know their stories. 

Their history. It is written in the texture of their bark, but I do not yet know the language of trees.

All of these trees co-exist quietly together in the same forest.

We have a lot to learn from trees.