This is the time
To embrace the darkness
As a place of dreams;
Of possibilities
As yet unrealised.
To surrender to the pull
To the earth,
The place of deep roots
Holding us.
This is the time
To rest,
To sit with the crackle and glow
Of the fire
Breathing the year gone by
Into her soulful dance.
This is the time
To listen
To the soft snore
Of Mother Earth
As she lies peacefully,
Her delicate arms
Curled around her,
Spring bulbs cradled
In her sleeping palms.
Autumn is here and I can feel a unique surge of joy that no other season can quite match. I’m starting to think it may just be my favourite time of year. But I certainly haven’t always felt this way.
Until I started to really experience nature deeply through my senses, Autumn just felt like a slippery slide towards the dark and gloomy days of Winter. I used to be filled with a sense of dread as the days closed in and I anticipated months of grey drizzle and Lemsips! All the joy for me was in the long sun-filled days of Summer.
So now I feel like I’ve gained a season. In fact I’ve gained two. As it turns out, Winter has a little more to offer than my dank miserable image of it too. And to be honest I probably didn’t really notice Spring or Summer either before. I had ideas about them. My mind had a lot to say when I thought about them but seeing nature through the filter of the mind is completely different from the physical experience of it moment by moment. So waking up to the magic of Autumn felt a bit like discovering another world. And I’m still discovering it.
The bright clear Autumnal light and deep blue skies instantly lift my spirits. Leaves glow in one final burst of life before the still sleepiness of Winter settles on the earth.
And the berries have taken my breath away this Autumn. Hawthorn, sloes, elderberries, rosehips and blackberries lie like jewels in the hedgerows. An absolute feast for the eyes. And the mouth (well some of them anyway).
In Autumn, every sense is treated. Dewey spider webs twinkle in the sunlight and golden leaves crunch and crackle as you walk. Geese honk overhead as they fly back for Winter in their perfect V formations. Noses twitch at the sweet earthy smell of apples, moss and woodsmoke. The crisp Autumnal air cools and freshens your cheeks and lungs and sweet juicy blackberries tempt your tastebuds from hedgerows.
Everywhere you look there’s an invitation to open up your senses and be absorbed by your surroundings. So if you want to start experiencing nature deeply, moment by moment, this is the season to give it a go.
I will end this post with a lovely quote from George Elliot which makes me smile. If I were a bird, I might just be tempted to do the same.
‘Delicious Autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive Autumns.’
One of my favorite things to do is to walk barefoot (preferably through a wood). It energizes me, clears my head and fills me with a deep feeling of relaxation and connection to the natural world around me. It feels like I’m being plugged back into my natural energy supply.
When I started barefoot walking, I soon realized how much I’d been missing out on. It’s like a whole new world opens up that you just don’t experience when you’re wearing shoes. You feel the subtle contours of the ground as you walk. You feel the dry warm soil crumble against the soles of your feet or the cool mud squelching between your toes.
You feel the crack of a twig and the soft springy carpet of leaves and moss. You feel the warmth of the dappled sunlight on the forest floor and the contrast of the cool shady areas.
And it isn’t just your sense of touch that becomes heightened. When you’re not wearing shoes, you naturally walk more slowly as you are more mindful of where you are treading. This tends to increase the awareness in your other senses too.
You start to notice more details around you, not just on the forest floor but on the trees, the plants, the small insects flying or crawling through the woods, the sunlight on a spider’s web in the crook of a branch, the sound of the wind rustling the leaves or the tap tap tap of a woodpecker. So much of this can go unnoticed when you are pacing along with your mind on other matters.
And as the awareness of your senses increases it calms your mind. Your thoughts soften and slow down and the imaginary line between your human self and the rest of nature silently dissolves. It brings you back to a place of balance; to a place of deep connection and harmony.
When you walk barefoot you also walk a lot more quietly. Squirrels, rabbits, birds and other creatures living in the woods feel less threatened if you are walking slowly, quietly and respectfully through their habitat. You blend in a little more and you can often have much closer encounters with wildlife.
And as luck would have it, it turns out that as well as heightening your connection with your environment through your senses, barefoot walking has numerous health benefits. Studies have shown that when you walk barefoot you absorb health-boosting electrons from the earth. These electrons are said to reduce inflammation and pain, reduce stress, increase energy, boost your immune system, improve your cardiovascular health and improve your mood. Clinton Ober in his book Earthing talks about the benefits of barefoot walking and the scientific research behind it.
So what are you waiting for? Kick off those shoes, peel off those sweaty socks and give it a go! I promise you won’t be disappointed.
(Photo by Monica Silva)
The bluebells are out and the cuckoo is calling. It’s Spring and everywhere you look there’s life in all its glory. If ever there was a time of year when nature is inviting you to pay attention, it’s now. There’s so much beauty, it almost feels rude not to marvel at it!
As well as the visual beauty there is also a lot to listen to. Focussing your attention on natural sounds is a lovely way to increase feelings of relaxation.
If you have a chance to sit in your garden or somewhere green nearby for a few minutes, try gently bringing your full attention to the natural sounds you can hear.
The birds are very chatty at this time of year so you are likely to hear some chirping and tweeting. Perhaps you may also hear the wind gently rustling the leaves or the buzzing of a bee. If you are lucky enough to be near some flowing water, close your eyes and listen to the gentle splashing and babbling as it flows. Notice any thoughts that arise and distract you and gently bring your attention back to the natural sounds.
When we are fully listening, we cannot simultaneously be thinking so keeping our attention held on what we can hear gives us a break from our endless stream of thoughts. And what a relief it is!
As useful as thoughts are, they have a tendency to take over and they don’t half bang on about the same things over and over again! Having little breaks from your thoughts by experiencing the natural world through your senses has a calming and grounding effect.
When we only experience life through the filter of our thoughts, we can miss so much. We can miss the beauty that’s right in front of us, waiting to be seen, heard or felt. Waiting to be experienced.
We evolved outside, surrounded by the natural world and are made of the same elements that trees, plants, animals and the earth itself are made from. It’s where we belong.
So spending time quietly and mindfully in nature helps us to re-connect back to who we are. And it feels good. It also gives us a deep sense of connection with all living things and helps us to remember our place in the world; that we ourselves are part of nature.
Tears drop upon the earth
and slide down the grass as they fall.
Sorrows that lay cocooned inside
take comfort from the strength of mother nature’s solid embrace.
Lying cradled in the earth they wait.
Patience must be called upon to endure this frosty winter.
And as doubts wriggle like worms in the soil,
small, almost imperceptible movements occur.
Leaves unfurl and whisper in the crisp wind above.
The sun stretches its rays
and lays them like a soothing hand
on the heads of all that lie beneath.
It smiles a big yellow smile.
Birds yawn in their nests
and burst into song,
expressing joy as sweet and pure as nectar.
Spring has arrived.
A week or so ago I wasn’t feeling well for a few days. I felt so wiped out that all I could do was rest and the calling to nature I usually feel every day felt muted by exhaustion. But I knew that if I stayed inside for even one day, I would feel worse because nature is my medicine. And staying away from your medicine when you’re ill makes no sense. So I took myself out and, as always, the rewards were plentiful.
I went to a local nature reserve and flopped onto a bench. Instantly the birds caught my attention. The freedom they express felt so soothing. The restricted feeling that had been building in my chest both from lockdown and from feeling a bit unwell seemed to loosen as I watched and listened to the birds as they swooped and squawked around me.
I closed my eyes and just listened. After a minute or two, a flock of starlings whooshed over my head in a wind-like wave sending a shiver down my spine. It felt like instant confirmation that I’d made the right decision.
Within the flock a few of the starlings were making the softest squeaking noises. It was a comforting sound and very different to the chatter they make as they gather in their thousands at the top of trees before exploding in synchrony into the sky like a firework.
A conversation between two ducks started up behind me. Back and forth, laughter-like quacks filled the air and I found myself smiling as I listened to them take turns to say their bit.
Then, all of sudden there was a frantic kerfuffle of wings hitting water as they took off into the air, squawking loudly as they flew.
And then silence slowly resumed.
But not for long. The next sound I was drawn to was a clicking noise coming from the water in front of me. I decided to keep listening before opening my eyes to identify the clicker. The sound of clicks was then joined by some gentle splashing noises. Click, splash, splash, click.
And after a while of focusing only on what I could hear, I opened my eyes and identified the clickers and splashers. Two coots were taking turns to dive for food.
I watched each one disappear from sight, sending rippled circles out towards the reeds and this hypnotic pattern repeating itself as their black and white heads bobbed back up again. I can’t tell you how long I watched those slow moving circles but they had such a calming effect and by focussing my attention purely on them, I was kept completely present and I could feel my body relaxing.
After some time, my eyes felt drawn to the horizon and as I looked at the sky I noticed the softest hint of colour starting to appear. At first I thought I was imagining it. But as I watched, the colours gained definition and shape and within a few moments a beautiful glowing arch stretched out across the sky. I could hardly believe my luck!
I focussed all of my attention on the rainbow, bringing my awareness to every subtle shift in colour, shape and texture. Noticing. Noticing. Noticing. And just by being present with every detail that was being revealed, I could feel the uplifting effect on both my body and mind.
By the time I headed home, nature’s medicine had worked. I decided to write about this in the hope that if you are reading this and not feeling great you may feel inspired to try to get outside for a bit and let nature work its magic. All you need to do is find a natural spot outside and notice your surroundings. Nature will take care of the rest.
Last weekend I had a nature experience that really felt like a gift. I’m going to attempt to write a little something about it although sometimes it feels like words can only scrape the surface of an experience like this. Some things are just for the soul and cannot be captured. But I can’t help at least having a go.
I met a fellow nature-loving friend for a walk on Otmoor. After we’d been walking for a while we sat on a bench and our eyes met with what we initially thought was a large flock of starlings rolling like a black wave across the sky. So synchronized were their movements, it was impossible to see individual birds. They performed as one, their every move timed to perfection in this beautiful winter dance.
The sky was glowing with every shade of the rainbow and with each slight turn of the head a whole new backdrop revealed itself, each one even more dramatic than the last. Behind us the sun glowed pink and orange; there was half an hour left before the horizon swallowed it up.
As the flock of birds we were watching flew closer, it became clear that these were not starlings at all. As they changed direction they displayed flashes of white and gold and we realized that they were golden plover. And all of a sudden, as they caught the sunlight, they transformed into tiny golden balls of light. Clouds of shimmering gold danced across the sky in front of us and the sight was so mesmerizing that it literally took my breath away.
As the golden light swept across the ever-changing sky and new deeper, brighter, softer versions of itself were revealed it felt like a continual expression of transformation. Each image of perfect beauty slipped effortlessly into the next, leaving us no choice but to marvel open-mouthed at this wondrous expression of change.
As we watched the golden plover perform their majestic evening dance, a soft whisper of wings lifted our eyes and a small flock of starlings darted through the air above us with a sense of urgency. They were clearly late for the party!
Flock after flock flew over our heads to join in and created their own display in this theatrical scene. And then the geese joined in; long out-stretched necks, squawking as they flew in perfect V formations against the setting sun.
And the water reflected all this beauty right back. As it gave, so it instantly received. A perfect reflection. We stayed awe-struck and silent until the sun set and slowly but surely the artists dispersed to their beds. And in the dusky light a hare lolloped through the shallow water in front of us as if to draw the curtain on a performance so beautiful and heart-warming that I know I will never forget it.
According to researchers at Michigan State University we have about 80,000 thoughts a day and 90% of them are the same thoughts repeating over and over again. You’d think we’d get bored of them!
Obviously, the ability to think is very useful but if we never have a break from our thoughts, they can cloud our experience of life. It can be hard to see what is actually happening as opposed to our mind’s interpretation of it.
When we experience life in the present moment, even the most challenging situations can feel more manageable. You are no longer thinking about what could happen in the future or what has happened in the past but you are experiencing only what is, right now. And one of the best ways to quieten your mind is to bring your attention to your senses.
Practising sensory awareness in a natural environment can be really rewarding. In the woods, there is so much to tempt you towards your senses. Once you notice the way the light is falling on the leaves or you inhale the rich earthy forest smells or the feel of the oak’s ridged bark on your hands, these things will help you to connect with the present moment.
This takes time though and is aptly named a practice. We are used to thinking a lot. But the more you can notice your thoughts, let them go and come back to your sensory experience, the calmer you feel and your connection with life deepens.
When spending time in nature it is common to feel the need to justify it by doing something. Just being is not seen as enough in itself. Perhaps we are exercising, photographing it or identifying plants, trees and wildlife. Although these things can be lovely to do, they can at times prevent us from having a more intimate experience with nature; an experience that can give us some space from our thoughts and re-connect us to ourselves and the natural world.
As the poet John Moffitt says:
‘You must be the thing you see:
You must be the dark snakes of
Stems and ferny plumes of leaves,
You must enter in
To the small silences between
The leaves,
You must take your time
And touch the very peace
They issue from.’
Ancient Chinese philosophy talks about the opposite states of Yin and Yang and how there must be a balance between them in order to achieve harmony. Yang is activity; it is bright, fast, hard and loud. Yin is rest; it is dark, slow, soft and quiet. Yang is Summer and Yin is Winter.
The Winter Solstice is the most Yin day of the year. And it comes at a time that we have created to be one of the busiest times of year. It is normally a time for lots of rushing about doing Christmas preparations, shopping, cooking and socializing on top of everything else. And all of this extra activity during a time that is naturally for slowing down time can be exhausting and stressful.
Meanwhile the hedgehogs have curled up for their Winter nap and the trees and plants are snoozing. The colder darker days have called them to rest and they are responding in the only way they know how. They are responding in the way we used to but have forgotten.
But this year the pandemic has put a stop to our frenetic activity. Our plans have been cancelled for us and we have no choice but to slow down. Despite the difficulties caused by the virus perhaps there’s an opportunity here too. Perhaps it’s an opportunity to slow down, reflect, tune into our intuition and give ourselves a rest. We cannot travel, there are no parties or plans. Our constant state of Yang has been interrupted.
It can be scary to take a pause when we are used to speeding through our busy lives. Perhaps we are afraid of feeling lonely too, particularly during this time where we are being told to keep our distance from friends and family.
I believe we can take inspiration from trees at this time. They do not panic when their leaves fall and decay. They do not worry as they stand bare and exposed to the elements through the colder months. They do not fear that Spring will never arrive. They know that this is their time to rest and their fresh new leaf shoots will appear again when the time is right.
Winter can be seen as a gloomy time and with the pandemic stopping our usual activities perhaps this year even more so. There can be a temptation to distract ourselves through it by curling up inside and watching Netflix. But my prescription for dealing with Winter gloom is to go outside and spend some quiet time in nature. My favorite place to rest and reflect is the woods.
When you stop and really experience the stillness of the sleepy trees in Winter, you cannot help but absorb some of that peace. By surrendering our busy lives a little bit and being fully present in the natural world, we re-connect with our inner knowing and our heads become clearer and calmer. The illusion that we are separate from nature dissolves and with it we feel connected again. We remember that we are part of the natural cycle and when the time is right, Yin will once again return to Yang.
It’s lockdown (again), it’s November, it’s grey, it’s drizzling outside, we can’t see our friends and the world is spinning into chaos. I know, it’s not the most uplifting start to a blog entry but bear with me.
So what can we do?
We could curse winter, draw our curtains, prop ourselves up in front of a screen and eat cake. We could do that until the first crocus pops its little head up in Spring. That is an option. But I have found a more rewarding one and I feel the need to share it.
Take a deep breath. . . . . Put on a coat. . . . . . And step outside.
You may recoil and want to head back to your cake but do not give in to this urge! Take yourself somewhere green. It doesn’t matter where. A quiet area of a local park is perfect, or if you can get out into the countryside, even better. And then walk, slowly and quietly. And just notice your surroundings.
That’s all.
At first you may only see grey skies and sludgy mud and wish you’d never peeled your rear end off the sofa. But keep looking. And notice if you can see anything at all that you hadn’t initially seen.
Perhaps you might notice some golden beech leaves or scarlet hawthorn berries. Perhaps you’ll look up and see a cloud that looks like a hippo or a bird flying over you that you’ve never seen before.
And when you see this, STOP!
Stop and give it your full attention. Marvel at it as if it’s the first time you’ve ever seen such a thing. Because it is. Look deeply into it, focussing all of your attention on that and that only.
Now watch as your mind tells you to move on, that you have better things to be doing with your life than standing in the rain and staring at a leaf. I would suggest that there is nothing better you could be doing. This small shift in your attention is the start of something exciting.
Watch how it changes when you give it 100% of your attention. Keep looking at it. Look at its texture, is it just one solid colour or are there more subtle colours that emerge on closer inspection? Does it look smooth or jagged? Notice how the light falls on it. Is it wet or dry? Dull or shiny?
Look, look and keep looking. The more you look, the more will appear and when you see this you are on the way to understanding the magic of this alchemy. You can be standing in the rain on a grey November day and feel like the cat who got the cream because the world is transforming before your eyes.
It’s a key into the present moment. Your focus has momentarily been taken away from the ramblings of your mind and redirected to the natural world. And what a relief it is!
You don’t need to go anywhere exotic, you don’t need to spend any money, you don’t need to rely on anyone or anything else. The magic is there all around us. We’ve just forgotten how to see it.