Exposed by wind, an arrowhead made of red chert juts from pale sand at the edge of the driveway. Another day, a basalt mano — worn smooth on two sides from grinding corn — turns up in the field. Potsherds and stone projectile points show themselves now and then, along vanished tracks of the old ones. The ancestral pueblo people who left these tools are thought to have abandoned their village — whose ruins lie a few miles from my house — before 1200 CE, for unknown reasons. Whomever walked this … Continue reading

WINTER APPLE Let the apple ripen on the branch beyond your need to take it down. Let the coolness of autumn and the breathing, blowing wind test its adherence to endurance, let the others fall. Wait longer than you would, go against yourself, find the pale nobility of quiet that ripening demands; watch with patience as the silhouette emerges and the leaves fall, see it become a solitary roundness against a greying sky, let winter come and the first frost threaten, and then … Continue reading

In the deep fall don’t you imagine the leaves think how comfortable it will be to touch the earth instead of the nothingness of air and the endless freshets of wind? And don’t you think the trees themselves, especially those with mossy, warm caves, begin to think of the birds that will come — six, a dozen — to sleep inside their bodies? And don’t you hear the goldenrod whispering goodbye, the everlasting being crowned with the first tuffets of snow? The pond vanishes, and the white field over … Continue reading

When I was the stream, when I was the forest, when I was still the field, when I was every hoof, foot, fin and wing, when I was the sky itself, no one ever asked me did I have a purpose, no one ever wondered was there anything I might need, for there was nothing I could not love. It was when I left all we once were that the agony began, the fear and questions came, and I wept, I wept. And tears I had never known before. So I returned to the river, I returned to the mountains. I asked for … Continue reading

When I am among the trees, especially the willows and the honey locust, equally the beech, the oaks and the pines, they give off such hints of gladness. I would almost say that they save me, and daily. I am so distant from the hope of myself, in which I have goodness, and discernment, and never hurry through the world but walk slowly, and bow often. Around me the trees stir in their leaves and call out, “Stay awhile.” The light flows from their branches. And they call again, “It’s simple,” … Continue reading

When the mind is festering with trouble or the heart torn, we can find healing among the silence of mountains or fields, or listen to the simple, steadying rhythm of waves. The slowness and stillness gradually takes us over. Our breathing deepens and our hearts calm and our hungers relent. When serenity is restored, new perspectives open to us and difficulty can begin to seem like an invitation to new growth. This invitation to friendship with nature does of course entail a willingness to be … Continue reading

It is not a coincidence that we speak about ‘earthing’ or grounding ourselves to establish or maintain a sense of stability or a still centre in our frenetic modern world. Often on completing a meditation practice, we ground ourselves by visualising our ‘roots’ going deep into the Earth to echo the lotus plant, a symbol of spiritual elevation, with its flower above water and its roots deep in the mud of the pond, spanning three physical mediums. Connecting with nature can be a deeply healing … Continue reading