Sacred Connection to the Earth

My Connection

Take refuge in your relationship with the Earth as your beloved, unconditionally loving Mother. In reciprocity, when and where she needs healing (now and here), take care of her.

On Orcas Island, sitting on a bluff over the Pacific Ocean, I was breathing in the nuanced ocean air while watching tiny wildflowers dance in the breeze. I was staying on the island after completing a marathon in Vancouver. I was physically spent. I was grateful. I was content to gaze, to breathe, to be. I then felt the soft arms of a divine presence holding me close. It was not necessary to actually hear the words “you are loved, you are fine.”

While this was a dramatic experience of connection, whenever I pay attention to the natural world, I feel the connection to something bigger, to the sacredness of the beauty. My senses come to life, my heart expands, and my spirit is touched. Though I cannot define what it is, I know there is something divine in the mix. I want to offer my hands to help preserve and protect the sacred magical life that surrounds us.

My personal symbol is the spiral. As I continue to grow and learn new lessons on each cycle around the sun, I also extend myself as ripples out into the world. These ripples can be gentle or stormy as I continue to learn how to respond to the ripples (or waves) approaching me. It can be chaotic out here, but when my center holds, balance, equilibrium return and my ripples mirror a soft breeze, a meandering stream—they are quiet, warm, compassionate, and sometimes significant.

This compellation of thoughts and photos is one attempt to make a ripple in the pond. Maybe this ripple can inspire the connection felt by others, creating more ripples, gaining momentum until there is one huge ripple. Many of us want to offer our hands—out of love, not fear.

“There are unknown forces in nature, when we give ourselves wholly to her without reserve she lends them to us, she shows us these forms which our watching eyes do not see, which our intelligence does not understand or suspect.” Auguste Rodin

WOOD

Noticing the roots and shoots of a tree, of a flower and pondering the symbolism of roots and shoots. Wandering through a forest and noticing the details on the trees—the bark, the moss, the fungi, the lichen, the decay of the fallen trees. Wandering through a forest and not missing the forest for the trees. Noticing the magnificent art created through the continuing changes in the forest. Noticing the wildlife depending on the nourishment offered. Noticing how the lives of other beings are crucial to the health of the earth, to the full cycle of life, and to our own survival.

the deep roots of a favorite tree

draw me in—I plant my feet nearby

and pretend to be rooted.

inhaling the new, the fresh

exhaling the stale, the burdens

I feed the earth with my compostable refuse.

the breeze rustles the highest limbs—

my gaze follows

dazzled by the dancing leaves

and then by the V formation of pelicans higher still

and then by the infinite blue.

inhaling the gentle movement

exhaling the stillness

I feed the sky with my peace.

Forest Art

WIND

it slows me down to feel a breeze~

to notice the leaves rustle

to notice the ripples on the water—

the interesting shapes formed in reflections on the water

to notice my lungs expanding

to notice a whoosh of serenity embrace me

The wind paints the sky—sometimes delicately, sometimes wildly, but reliably in a way that catches our breath, our awe.

And oh my, the way she sings ….

From The Way of Chuang Tzu—The Breath of Nature:

When great Nature sighs, we hear the winds

Which, noiseless in themselves,

Awaken voices from other beings,

Blowing on them.

From every opening

Loud voices sound. Have you not heard

This rush of tones?

There stands the overhanging wood

On the steep mountain:

Old trees with holes and cracks

Like snouts, maws, and ears,

Like beam-sockets, like goblets,

Grooves in the wood, hollows full of water:

You hear mooing and roaring, whistling,

Shouts of command, grumblings,

Deep drones, sad flutes.

One call awakens another in dialogue.

Gentle winds sing timidly,

Strong ones blast on without restraint.

Then the wind dies down. The openings

Empty out their last sound.

Have you not observed how all then trembles and subsides?

Yu replied: I understand:

The music of earth sings through a thousand holes.

The music of man is made on flutes and instruments.

What makes the music of heaven?

Master Ki said:

Something is blowing on a thousand different holes.

Some power stands behind all this and makes the sounds die down.

What is this power?

“The cloud is free only to go with the wind” Wendell Berry

WATER

my sacred waters

I surrender to them

I float

I trust

I shapeshift

in contentment

my rivers meander

in wisdom, in activism, in frustration, in love, in peace

my ponds ripple

in passion and in rage

my waves smash their glorious beauty onto the rocks

in forgiveness

my comforting tributaries flow, overflow

my sacred waters

I do not feel that I can fully breathe if I am too far from the ocean. Whether tumultuous or calm, it soothes me. Taking long walks along the shore is one of my favorite things to do. Some days I am more taken in by the long-range vistas to the horizon or to landforms. On other days I am absorbed by the art—the interesting patterns or assemblages made by the rocks, shells, and seaweed. Sandpipers and sea gulls always mesmerize me.

Walking through non-beach landscapes is always enhanced when I come upon a lake or a stream—especially a waterfall! The power of water is purifying and clarifying.

I like to capture the beauty with my camera, but also to capture my emotional reactions with poetry, sometimes Haiku (my fingers counting syllables as I walk).

Per Mary Oliver’s Instructions for living a life:

Pay attention.

Be astonished.

Tell about it.

We humans are not just observers of the natural world, we belong within it. Nurturing, loving ourselves, finding our own “wellspring” is an essential part of truly connecting beyond ourselves, to others and to the mystical divine source. From John O’Donohue, Anam Cara—“You can search far and in hungry places for love. It is a great consolation to know that there is a wellspring of love within yourself. If you trust that this wellspring is there, you will then be able to invite it to awaken…. Imagine that nourishing stream of belonging, ease, peace, and delight. Feel with your visual imagination, the refreshing waters of that well gradually flowing up through the arid earth of the neglected side of your heart.”

I have lived most of my life on the Southern California coast. I have witnessed the changing environment—the eroding cliffs, the shrinking beaches. Change is inevitable, but sea levels and temperatures are rising at an alarming rate, and sea life is gravely threatened. Hands are needed. Where is the special place that you love? Hands are needed there too.