The most important lesson I believe that Nature can teach us today is that we
are part of Her. We forget all too often that homo sapiens sapiens is a
member of the animal kingdom only separated, in my opinion, from others of our
kind by methods of communication. We never should have taken the stance that we
have dominion over all creatures, instead we should realize the Gnostic belief
of having stewardship over the Earth. In this sense, having been given our
humanity, we then become responsible for compassionate, loving care of all who
live and breathe.
It has been my opinion that
Nature is here to teach us about God. From the "lilies in the field" verse in
the Bible to the plethora of Nature references in Eastern and Native American
philosophy and prayer, Nature has been seen as a teacher, healer, friend, enemy
and lover. But most of all, by following the Natural cycles of the universe we
are able to let go of the ego which brings us closer to a relationship with the
Divine.
Anonymous
In Forest-and the Hill- How fair Her Conversation- Her Voice among the Aisles When all the Children sleep- With infinite Affection- I stopped.
There was no mistake. The rattling was an ominous sound. No further steps
in that direction were wanted. The snake that announced itself would rather be
left to rest in peace. My foot placed itself back in the best T'ai Chi step I
could muster under the circumstances.
Are some things best left undisturbed? To come close to them puts us on the
edge of life and the reward is a rush of vibrancy unequalled by any *satori*
arising from sitting on our cushions.
Awareness Practice becomes richer from our willingness to participate in
the discovery of things high and low and everywhere in between. Mindful of the
sounds that surround me, the scent of the dead deer rotting a mile or so off
to the right, the flash of a small clump of blue flowers in an otherwise brown
expanse, I open myself to what is, rather than what could be.
My partner is tired and wants to return home. I feel torn. I want to stay
with the snakes and the scorpions, with the kangaroo rats and the prickly
pear. I want to please my partner. I recognize my wants. Awareness comes in
the oddest places.
A shift in the paradigm:
My partner is the Buddha. The snake is the Buddha. The gecos are the
Buddha. The desert sun is the Buddha. The sounds of danger are the Buddha. The
steps taken to return from one *home* to another* are the Buddha. Zen is the
moment of perception.
We step lightly and heaven is under our toes. A bright smile spread over Vasudeva's face.
"Yes, Siddhartha," he said. "Is this what you mean?" That the river is
everywhere at the same time, at the source and at the mouth, at the waterfall,
at the ferry, at the current, in the ocean and in the mountains, everywhere,
and that the present only exists for it, not the shadow of the past, nor the
shadow of the future?"
"That is it," said Siddhartha, "and when I learned that, I reviewed my life
and it was also a river, and Siddhartha the boy, Siddhartha the mature man and
Siddhartha the old man, were only separated by shadows, not through reality.
Siddhartha's previous lives were also not in the past, and his death and his
return to Brahma are not in the future. Nothing was, nothing will be,
everything has reality and presence."
- from Siddhartha Angels, animals, humans, insects by the million, Everything is swinging: heaven, earth, water, fire, Luther Standing Bear, Oglala Sioux
Every tree, vine, and bush has its sense of purpose and is rooted were it
needs to be, some lurking in the shadows while others stand in the spotlight.
I look throughout are yard and see all the different colors and shapes. I
inhale the mixed fragrances as they are carried by the wind. And when I close
my eyes and exhale I can hear the vibrating sounds of bushes being shaken and
leaves flapping against the grain of the porch. Sipping on my second cup of
coffee I lose sight of all before as my eyes narrow their focus to the potted
pansies near my left foot. The longer I watch the more I see. I see the
colorful maidens do their dance to the rhythm of the wind as it blows through
them. Whipping their slender bodies in accord to the melody unknown by me.
Even though I can't hear the song as they do, I feel it. I feel it play up and
down my naked arms. I feel it drumming by my neck and face. Blowing like a
trumpet through my loose hair that has come undone. I too feel the music of
the wind. In their uncontrollable dance of praise, the pansies keep whipping
their bodies until my eyes loose focus on each individual and all that I see
is a swirling spectrum of colors. The swirling colors slow down to a halt and
separate into distinct individuals, first I see Scarlet, than Tangerine, and
lastly Violet. The bright-faced maidens await for the next zephyr to sweep
through their terra cotta town.
These kind of Sundays, the kind when you become enlightened with simplicity
and filled with real happiness your whole existence harmonizes with everything
that surrounds you. These Sundays are priceless. And I would trade the most
adventurous Saturday night for the mere hope of a Sunday morning like this one
today. I collect my thoughts and gather the cups and saucers on the table to
return indoors before the intense light of the afternoon sun surfaces. My
mother stays on the porch...
Last night I asked the moon about the Moon, my one question This world hurts my head with its answers,
Passage
About the time that darkness locked our world a
bird fell tuneful down, and filled the grain with songs of daylight's amber
ended, furled and tucked tonight against the coming rain. The bird slept
soundly, headless by her wing, while nimbus burned and screeched at meadow's
waves. The bird was drowned, with nothing left to sing but silence torn from
down to scattered graves. In that, our childhood's night, we watched the
change, bewildered, knowing little, feeling lost; but night would fade, and
dawn would rearrange this scene with light, and we'd forget the cost. The
seasons to which reason's eyes were blind, through moments movement carved
their sense in mind.
-anon To see the World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild
Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.
God
I am the wind that breathes upon the sea,
I am
the wave on the ocean,
I am the murmur of the leaves rustling,
I am the
rays of the sun,
I am the beam of the moon and stars,
I am the power of
the trees growing,
I am the movement of the salmon swimming,
I am the
courage of the wild boar fighting,
I am the speed of the stag running,
I
am the strength of the ox pulling the plough,
I am the size of the mighty
oak tree,
And I am the thoughts of all people
Who praise my beauty and
grace.
- from Celtic Fire Nature-the Gentlest Mother is,
Impatient of no Child-
The
feeblest-or the waywardest-
Her Admonition mild-
By Traveler-be heard-
Restraining Rampant
Squirrel
Or too impetuous Bird-
A Summer Afternoon-
Her Household-Her
Assembly-
And when the Sun go down-
Incite the timid prayer
Of the minutest
Cricket-
The most unworthy Flower-
She turns as long away
As will suffice
to light Her lamps-
Then bending from the Sky-
And infinite Care-
Her Golden finger on Her
lip-
Will Silence- Everywhere- Steps in the Desert
Between the four mile string of
boulders cast down from the mountains by ancient shifts in the foundations of
the ground I was walking on, a family of cacti established residency on the
left, and on the right, there were two geco lizards mating on one of the
larger boulders in view. It was their home in the sun. To the gross eye there
is little variation in the subtle desert tones that flood the horizon.
- Rev. Dr. Sodaiho Hilbert He once asked him, "Have you also learned that secret from the
river; that there is no such thing as time?"
Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will
eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more
important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the
birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your
heavenly Father feeds them...Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to
his life?
- The Bible, Matthew 6:25-27 Quatrain 10
Between the conscious and the unconscious,
the mind has put up a swing:
all earth creatures, even the supernovas,
sway between these two trees,
and it never winds down.
also the wheeling sun
and moon;
ages go by, and it goes on.
and the secret one
slowly growing a body.
Kabir saw this for fifteen seconds, and it made him
a servant for life. Mankind's true moral test, its fundamental test ... consists of
its attitude toward those who are at its mercy: animals.
- from The Unbearable Lightness of BeingYou ask my why I make my home in the mountain forest,
and I
smile, and am silent,
and even my soul remains quiet:
it lives in the
other world
which no one owns.
The peach trees blossom.
The water
flows. The man who sat on the ground in his tipi meditating on life and
its meaning, accepting the kinship of all creatures and acknowledging unity
with the universe of things was infusing into his being the true essence of
civilization.
No synonym for God is so perfect as Beauty. Whether seen carving
the lines of the mountains with glaciers, or gathering matter into stars, or
planning the movements of water, or gardening- still, all is Beauty.
Time takes its toll on everything and I am no exception. When you
start to look forward to the simplicities in Sunday mornings rather than the
uncertainties of Saturday nights, and when coffee with pancakes appeal more
than countless dinners and forgotten movies, time has taken its toll on you.
Content and at ease to be sitting with my mother on the front porch this
Sunday morning reminds me of that Mother Goose nursery rhyme she read to me
years ago. Mary Mary quite contrary how does your garden grow? With silver
bells and cockleshells and pretty maidens all in a row. This nursery rhyme
made my imagination run wild. I envisioned the flowers of my youth as little
women. Belles if you would, each characteristically different yet all
beautiful little maidens. My mother got pleasure and encouraged my make
believe world of flower girls. She also pretended along with me giving names
to the flowers according to their characteristics. Now as time has tolled,
sixteen years later I look beyond the fantasy we created and see the happiness
and pride she gets in her garden.
The sun was trembling now on the edge of the ridge. It was alive, almost fluid and pulsating, and as I watched it sink I thought I could feel the earth turning from it, actually feel its rotation. Over all was the silence of the wilderness, that sense of oneness which comes only when there are no distracting sights or sounds, when we listen with inward ears and see with inward eyes, when we feel and are ware with our entire beings rather than our sense. Sitting there, I thought of the ancient admonition, "Be still and know that I am God," and knew that without stillness there can be no knowing, that without divorcement from outside influences man cannot know what spirit means.
Answers from the Elements
A whole afternoon field inside
me from one stem of reed.
The messenger comes running toward me,
irritated:
Why be so hard to find?
for the
visible world, Where is God?
The moon says, I am dust stirred up
when
he passed by. The sun, My face is pale yellow
from just now seeing
him. Water: I slide on my head and
face like a snake, from a spell
he said. Fire: His lightening,
I want to be that restless.
Earth, quiet
and thoughtful? Inside me I have a garden
and an
underground spring.
wine filling my hand, not my
glass.
If I could wake completely, I would say without speaking
why I'm
ashamed of using words.
- Open Secret: Versions of Rumi by John Moyne and
Coleman Barks
Watching the moon
at dawn,
solitary, mid-sky,
I knew
myself completely:
no part left out. You ask me to plow the ground. Shall I take a knife and tear my
mother's breast?
Then when I die she will not take me to her bosom to
rest.
You ask me to dig for stone. Shall I dig under her skin for bones?
Then when I die I cannot enter her body to be born again.
You ask me to
cut grass and make hay and sell it and be rich like the white man.
But how
dare I cut off my mother's hair? Yet I experienced sometimes that the most sweet and tender, the
most innocent and encouraging society may be found in any natural object, even
for the poor misanthrope and most melancholy man. There can be no very black
melancholy to him who lives in the midst of Nature and has his senses still.
There was never yet such a storm but it was Aeolian music to a healthy and
innocent ear. Nothing can rightly compel a simple and brave man to a vulgar
sadness. While I enjoy the friendship of the seasons I trust that nothing can
make life a burden to me. The gentle rain which waters my beans and keeps me
in the house today is not drear and melancholy, but good for me too. Though it
prevents my hoeing them, it is of far more worth than my hoeing. If it should
continue so long as to cause the seeds to rot in the ground and destroy the
potatoes in the lowlands, it would still be good for the grass on the uplands,
and, being good for the grass, it would be good for me.
Knowing the Earth
To know the Earth on a first-name
basis
You must know the meaning of the river stones first.
Find a place
that calls to you and there
Lie face down in the grass until you
feel
Each plant alive with the mystery of beginnings.
Move in a circle
until you discover an insect
Crawling with knowledge in its
heart.
Examine a newborn leaf and find a map of a universe
So vast that
only Eagles understand.
Observe the journey of an ant and imitate its
path
Of persistence in a world of bigger things.
Borrow a cloud and
drift high above the Earth,
Looking down at the smallness of your
life.
The journey begins on a path made of your old mistakes.
The
journey continues when you call the Earth by name.
- Nancy Wood, from Spirit Walker Ten thousand flowers in spring, the moon in autumn,
a cool
breeze in summer, snow in winter.
If your mind isn't clouded by unnecessary
things,
this is the best season of your life.
Resources for Further Thought