Immersing myself in, and writing about, the intricacy of Nature has been a method of self-care for many decades. It’s my cure. My access to optimism. My antidepressant. My church. My muse, my inspiration, my belief system, my people. (Yes, I regularly talk to trees, dogs, cats, butterflies, vegetables, birds, and caterpillars, don’t you?)
Come to think of it (the 1988 version cleaned up by Dell Publishing) Dr. Dolittle was on point. A thorough appreciation of our fellow beings requires a willingness to be silly.
Most of my family of origin, siblings, parents, uncle, cousins, grandparents are naturalists who in one form or another stay(ed) sane-ish partly through nature’s wondrous demonstrations, therapies, and other exuberances. We share a faith in purposeful beauty, joy, pleasure, and love as avenues for healing, harmony, and hope.
Despite multiple examples to the contrary, I cannot concentrate on the downfall of civility and horrific behavior, the disintegration of society or hollowed out souls. When moved to despair I can notice how Nature disintegrates a log as it smells of vetiver and musk and feeds a colony of intriguing mushrooms. We might pause at the hollow tree trunk of an aged master that provides shelter for animals or a bowl for hiker’s found items, perhaps a mini cave for a child to build a fairy house.
My head is not in the sand, I have marched, written articles, debated and voted; I just do not function in news media political, journalistic, or protestor resister arenas. My cousin is excellent at journalistic advocacy like this and this about land rights. Thankfully, there are many championing spirits making a difference in the ways they feel called to act. We do what we can, and we ought not to do what we oughtn’t.
Many find meaning in thinking and actualizing what they believe is valuable. If you ever seek a daily coach to make “Thoughts become things” you might like tut.com. I think about how land loves the soul and seeks to bring beauty to the forefront of consciousness. When my mind wakes in a fugue after nightmares, I am lucky to be able to walk for miles in a cathedral of forest. Our forests and green spaces are precious beyond measure, and there are good organizations that help demarcate equitable access.
Upon return I am invigorated to appreciate those whom I can directly serve. So, when a friend is battling cycles of hot flashes, I can offer a bottle of freshly made chaste tree berry tincture (Vitex agnus-castus). What joy that after displaying sprays of lavender blossoms our vitex tree bears berries such as these! Self-care in Nature then translates to caring for others.
Rather than ‘cope’ with the destruction of ideals we might renew our true selves and focus on the pair of vivid bluebirds with their cream and rust-red breasts, or the crow that chases a majestic piliated woodpecker off its pine but upon return to its branch cooperates and permits both the noisy squirrel and jay to coexist on its tree.
Oh, the privilege!
For all the helpers doing more with less, the nurses, the lab techs, the emergency responders, and the teachers I wish nourishments of flower essences and soft warm fabrics on your skin. Extra hugs from unlikely places and animal nudges of affection, and eye crinkling memories of being loved by sunshine. There is immediate medicine in our natural surroundings to balm disillusion, to soothe raw despair.
As above, so below.
Something as tiny as a petal or sweet breeze, raindrops on tin roof, the hush of a wave, a dramatic cloud formation, the ever-faithful sunrise might sustain us. May awareness of accessible sensation land on all of us who have the freedom to breathe on our own by casting eyes out the window up to trees and sky.
We can call up faith in life in mysterious places, take refuge in the direct beauty and love of Nature to restore faith.
Didn’t you tell your first secrets into a dog or horse or cat’s ear? I recall playing science potion maker cradled in one very large maple tree talking with the tree, the cracked hickory nuts, and various plant pieces. I think I probably asked the plants if they were okay if I gave wild-picked herbs on Mother’s Day. The need to confide, to be known or heard by someone or something might be universal. When we cherish, we learn how to be cherished.
We are uni-verse-all.
To write love letters to Nature in Uni-verse is a form of ministration (not ministry and not dogma). I’m iffy about the whole ‘follow’ thing, but I would love folks to engage in this passion play with me. So as ‘they’ say please share this out to your people circle arena of love and friendship if you would.