Tag: nature

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Let’s Talk About NOTHING

There is so much going on in the world that my head is spinning. Talk, talk, talk.

I propose that we, at least for a while, talk about nothing.

How can we talk about nothing? Everything is a subject. Everyone has an opinion. Even when we are quiet our brains are still chattering away.

I had an aunt that never stopped talking. Even if you fell asleep listening to her. She was oblivious to the entire outside world. She was locked in her own head. She would phone me and I could set the receiver down and go have a cup of tea, read a book, do housework and come back and she’d still be yammering.

The world has become my aunt. Yakkety yak yak yak.

I want to talk about nothing.

It would be so good to just discuss a fine summer day, like the beauty of flowers, bees buzzing, clouds floating by without digressing into why’s and wherefores and why nots.

At the bus stop a young man noticed I was taking pictures of clouds and had to point out that those clouds were caused by pollution. When I said they were still beautiful, he got quite annoyed and started lecturing me.

Oh, please. Just talk about nothing.

When I see some creature or plant or scenery that I can’t name the genus, species or rock formation, please don’t tell me. There is beauty in the unknown. If I find out this bug is nasty, that plant is invasive or that scenery was caused by man made blasting, it ruins the whole thing. Sometimes, I just prefer mystery. It is not necessary to know everything. It is not important.

I remember reading about a man who saw the most magnificent birds soaring over the coastline and sea. Their outstretched wings angelic white in the sunlight. And when he found out they were seagulls and people were generally unimpressed with them, it ruined the entire experience for that fellow. I happen to like watching seagulls. They are so free.

So let’s talk about nothing and just appreciate what there is. At least, for a while.

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Wonder

Suddenly there was a mass exodus of birds, flushed out from the rooftops and sidewalks of downtown. A cloud of mostly pigeons, interspersed with seagulls, starlings and sparrows, swooped around the buildings and down the streets.

Squinting into the noonday sky I spot the reasons. Too very large hawks slowly circling high above.

There are more hawks and falcons arriving yearly to our city in response to the increasing number of pigeons. At my apartment building I have seen as many as ten at once circling our skies. Falcons were introduced to our city core many years ago in an attempt to curb pigeon growth, but word got out and soon hawks were joining the foray.

To witness the slow circling flight of these birds is mesmerizing, terrifying and awe inspiring at the same time. But I think magnificence because they seem to rule their realm.

However, it is also true that crows vociferously announce the hawks whereabouts and mercilessly attack them on wing.

Nature makes sure all balances out, and it fills me with wonder.

I saw lots of osprey on my visit to Spokane a few years ago.
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Joy Unexpected

I had a text to send before catching the bus, so I sat down in the shelter and sent it.  As I put my phone away, there at my feet was a large cicada.  I don’t know how I missed stepping on him!  I scooped him up on my bus pass and carried him to the safety of some bushes, pausing long enough to admire his gossamer wings and green and black mottled body.  Of course I told him how beautiful he is and to thank him.  Thank him for a moment of joy.

Nature has a way of giving me joy when I least expect it.  A chickadee alights next to me while eating lunch.  A dragonfly flits by.  A brightly coloured leaf floats down at my feet.  I come across an old apple tree heavy with fruit.  I glance out the window and see a red sun sink into the horizon.  All these momentary things add up to daily joy.

It saddened my heart to hear someone say nature is icky.  Yes, it can be.  But don’t let that rule your heart.  It is also unspeakably beautiful, extraordinary, amazing.  You choose how you see life, negative or positive.  Guess which one brings joy?  The more you appreciate beauty, the more you will notice and experience.

It is okay to be a Pollyana.  Don’t let naysayers tell you that being negative is being realistic.  The two points of view are realism.  Negativity just seems more real because it evokes a strong emotional reaction, a survival response.  Joy will bring you peace, and the more you focus on finding joy, the more peace you will have, and then you will have peace when you are in a crisis.  Joy makes you strong.

Choose joy.  Be grateful.  Keep those things in your heart.

Next week I am going to write about some more truths about negativity.  Negativity is ugly.

Some photographs to bring you joy at Amazon.com

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Love

Behind the bus stop near my physiotherapist (yes, I am back at it again – but that is another story),  a huge excavation is taking place.  A deep rectangular hole has been sliced out of the ground, a towering lattice work crane sits at its center.  Silent today as it is Saturday, all that weekday busyness is enclosed securely behind a chain linked fence, that bulges right up to where I am standing.

At the foot of the pole that marks this as a bus stop, there stands a very old tree.  Much mangled from the construction ensuing around it, and probably neglected for countless years before, it manages to survive.  Some bark has been stripped off, there are dead branches, and the leaves are dusty.  Yet it presses against all the stuff around it, new growth pushing up and beyond the overhead telephone wires to the sky and sun.  At its base a mess of weeds and wildflowers all tangled up in bits of metal and broken concrete, but growing so lush and blooming as to almost conceal the debris.

On this hot summer day, I appreciate the beauty of the flowers and the shade of the tree.  It reminded me to be grateful.  I also appreciated the fact that no matter how we try to demolish it all, a tiny shoot will soon push up through the cracks and greenery reappears.

But it occurred to me that it is not enough to feel gratitude only as the moment presents itself to me.

We have lots of time to think at our bus stops, and get a good tan while at it.

I realized I need to put God into every moment, so He flows through my entire life, not just parts of it.

I believe that the entire universe operates on the principle of love.  Not the mushy kind of love.  Love as the creative life generating force.  The tree of life. Love as abundance, creation, imagination, life, goodness, joy. The love that endures and perseveres. I call this love God.  Not the omnipotent, controlling, Kingdom type God, of punishment and whatever else is so off putting about peoples ideas of God.  But a God of love.

This love needs to fill my being so I am always in it, and not just reminded of it on rare occasions.

It is a good thing our buses take so long to arrive.

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Water Therapy

Everything is right with the universe once more.

Nothing cures my work day week blues and blahs like being out on the water for an hour.  $15 buys a lot of sanity.

I always was a water baby.  From my first time as a toddler in a wading pool in our back yard (I remember it seemed enormous!) fully immersed up to my knees, to summers slumming in pools, rivers and on beaches, to vacations where every motel had to have a pool (or I just was not staying!) and on to camping, motorboats, canoes, kayaks, sailboats and now paddleboards,  I just had to be near water.  Even if that meant sitting on a rock, feet dangling in the water, minnows nibbling my toes.  I spent one glorious summer doing just that, sitting next to the river on the rocks watching the water go slowly past me.  Oh to do that again!

I’ve held a fascination for water as long as I can remember, the smallest trickle of water will get my attention;  rain, melting snow, water in a ditch, spring runoff over rocks, a puddle on the street, lawn sprinklers (oh the rainbows!).  I waited hours to watch a geyser finally erupt, and can be mesmerized by waterfalls.

I love boats (the quiet type!), where I glide over an underwater world unfolding beneath me; undulating weeds, smooth multicoloured rocks, soft glittering sand, silver flashes of minnow schools and the occasional crayfish.  On the surface there is a dance of water striders and whirligigs.  When I discover a stranded non-water bug, I am happy to scoop him up, let him dry on the end of my paddleboard and return him to land.

Today as I sat on the paddleboard I was greeted by a curious snapping turtle and an elegant black swan.  They checked me out, I said hello and continued on.  A busy muskrat let me know not to come to close to her nest as she swam by, slapping her tail at me as she dove.

I was investigated by dragonflies, mayflies and deer flies.  Swooped over by barn swallows,  Honked at by geese and ignored by ducks.

Trees swept over my head along the shoreline.  I caught glimpses of bright yellow finches in the foliage and drifted uneasily under a dead tree heavy with black cormorants.  A hummingbird made a brief appearance and disappeared into the daisies.

Isn’t this a beautiful place?

I am so lucky.  I am so blessed.

Today did me a lot of good.

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Just Sit

I usually get up at 4 a.m. so I can do my creative projects and some physical exercise before going to work.  But every once in a while, I just sit.

That’s right.  Just sit.

Hands wrapped around a big mug of tea, the cat in my lap, I will stay put until it is time to get ready for work.  That is 3 hours of sit.  I am amazed at how fast that goes by!

And how necessary it is.

How wonderful to disengage.  Sometimes it is inspiring.  Sometimes I get new ideas.  Most of the time I just rest.  Three hours of not expecting anything, planning anything, trying to figure stuff out, worrying, ruminating, processing information.  Rushing.

Nice also to have 3 hours where I am silent.  Seldom do I speak a word, not even to cat.  Likewise, it is good not to listen either.  The next 8 to 10 hours at work are filled with non-stop chatter, where I must communicate clearly and listen intently.

In the early morning hours, not much activity in the world outside my doors.  Birds may be singing to the sunrise, or rain pattering on my window.  Sometimes the howl of wind.  No cars, voices, vehicles, sirens, telephones, people and the like – yet.

Most weekends and holidays in summer I spend hours of sit outside.  Next door is a splendid park, complete with thundering waterfall.  In these surroundings if I sit still long enough, nature gets curious about or bored with me and reveals herself.  Creatures appear and check me out or resume their daily business.  Nature is calm and soothing yet brimming with life and activity.  A still-busyness. Work is noisy, demanding and always, always busy.  No still there.

So now as I just sit and let the world carry on without me, my cat stretches full length down to my ankles and yawns.  The clock is telling me the hour has come.  Already ten minutes past the hour.  Think I’ll just sit a bit more . . .