An exploration of life, nature, creativity & tai chi
A hailstorm engulfed the woods.
I walked, partially sheltered by
the bare branches,
cocooned, warm in my coat as
the hailstones drummed on my head.
It passed over, the last balls of ice
bounced off my hair as
I put my hood down.
I emerged into sunshine,
a cool fresh breeze,
and contentment.
You can always find contentment if you walk far enough!
We adored the place. Coming to it we used to run down to the lake, dip our hands in and wish, as if we had just seen the new moon. Going away from it, we were half drowned in tears. No matter where I was, wandering about the world, I used at night to look for the North Star and, in my minds eye, could see the beloved skyline of great hills beneath it.
Arthur Ransome
Floating in the perfect
rock channel harbour
of Wild Cat
Island of my imagination
and childhood reading.
Today I didn’t land
but basked in the sun
reflecting on half forgotten dreams,
happy that a life where this place
is just down the road
was one dream
I made happen.
And I wonder if there are
other dreams from younger days
buried in the habits of adulthood,
shadow realities
which I could choose to bring to life.
At a conference,
head bursting with ideas.
Talks about nature and wellbeing,
beauty, emotions,
the benefit of mindful ‘forest bathing’,
the importance of nature connections.
Invigorating subjects
dried up by windowless rooms,
air conditioning,
artificial lighting
and too many strangers.
–
Break time and I escape
into a bookshop.
Funny how I always end up in one of these
when the urban world becomes too much.
My shoulders drop as I cross the threshold,
calm among wood
pulped and pressed into pages,
the ghosts of trees.
A forest of paper and words,
and silence.
I feel at home
I don’t read them, just soak in the cathedral-like atmosphere
and refrain from buying another expensive notebook.
I feel the benefit of a kind of forest bathing,
a tenuous connection to nature
until I can get back to the real thing.
Gripped by anxiety,
a looming hospital appointment,
I failed to notice the world outside
where the blackbird continued to sit on her nest in the rain,
and despite my unawareness
the symphony of spring carried on.
–
Then suddenly, I realized.
Anxiety again.
Welcome.
I don’t have to fight you any more
I just have to relax.
We are not separate,
you are not something to be held at bay
by techniques and force of mind.
You are a response to a situation,
my response.
–
Forgive me.
You have always been the frightened child
I pushed away.
Now you are welcome to rest here
until we both feel safe again.
–
A queen bee stopped on a flower, unnoticed,
unmoved by my revelation
as I wiped away a tear,
but I will remember.
A rushing kind of a day
Deep within the demands of work
Deadlines loom
So I concentrate
Focus
Get things done
And forget myself
–
Now it’s evening and
I peel myself away from the TV
Put on some music
Slow down into
Familiar movements
–
An hour later
I re-emerge
Relaxed
Refreshed
Calm
–
Reawoken to the truth
That if I slow down
Underneath the rush
Below the fear, the fuss, the resistance
Peace is always waiting
There were holes in
This one wonderful creative life
It had got a little threadbare
Over the years
In need of darning
Tarnished
A light had dimmed
–
And now, I’m adding threads
Wild snatches of music
Experienced from the inside
Part of a circle of people playing
For themselves and for each other
Sharing tunes and memories
And weaving a richer life
–
The warp and weft of friendships
Reacquainted.
Stories, rhythms, rhymes
And the hills of the Lake District
My hills
And a scattering of colour, paint on canvas,
Feeling the lines and texture flow from the brush in my hand
–
The peace of deep, relaxed movement
Taking time to reconnect
The wake of a canoe across the lake
Adding a silvery thread
–
All combining
All absolutely necessary
Now I know what I’ve been missing
All of this is what I need
Now there are no threadbare patches left
In the tapestry that is
This creative life
Driving to work
Past fields and hedges and trees without leaves,
The distant fells of the Lake District,
A milky opalescent dawn sky,
And I feel so happy
And I think, if I could send a message
To my younger self
I would say
‘Relax
I know things don’t feel easy.
But it will all work out in the end.
Take it one step at a time, don’t worry so much.
Life still has its ups and downs,
But the view from here is worth it.’
According to research, people are more likely to care for the environment if they have a connection to nature, rather than just knowing facts about wildlife and the environment. And lots of people don’t have this connection.
I have a deep connection to nature. I find it hard to imagine that it’s possible not to be emotionally involved with the natural world, not to care about it, not to need to spend time outdoors.
My day can be transformed by the sight of a robin outside my office window, by the dark silhouette of a tree against a winter sky, by the play of light on water, by the glimpse of a flower growing amongst concrete.
I’m connected to landscapes too, I greet my favourite mountains like old friends, and certain landscapes make me feel deeply at home even if I’ve never been there before.
I don’t always love being outdoors. I’m happy to get inside to escape wind, rain and cold. I’m not a fan of wasps, ticks or other bitey insects. I like to have a cosy indoors to retreat to.
I’ve always felt that being outside and spending time in nature is good for me, not just for the physical exercise, much more than that; good for my whole being.
There is now lots of research that shows that spending time outdoors, in green spaces, helps improve health and mental wellbeing. It certainly makes me feel good.
Not everyone feels a strong connection to nature, to the outdoors, as this blog I read today explains.
–
Have you connected with nature today ?
Life in the Fresh Air 