Listen to thisI am walking with the dog on one of those incredibly beautiful Canadian autumn days. The temperature is 7 or 8 degrees above “normal”, well into the mid teens (not an uncommon experience at this time of the year). It’s warm enough to be outside wearing just a t-shirt and the absence of a northern wind ensures there are no unexpected chills in the offing. Around me the leaves are a wonder of colours – brilliant reds and yellows, deep orange and subtle rust, some lingering greens, a few still vibrant, others paling to some other colour.
We have been going through some difficult times lately – one of those crises that get you questioning everything from the reason you eat bread to the meaning of life. Yet as I walk through the woods, the sky deep and penetrating blue, I am filled with appreciation for this moment when nature wraps you in its blanket of beauty and stimulates the opportunity for quiet reflection. And in this nature enveloped reflection I realize that no matter how traumatized I have felt by recent events, I live a privileged life.
I live in a relatively safe, abundant country, am able to live in a decent home, eat well, have access to medical and educational services and am free to believe and, within reason, do as I please. And, in other ways too, my life is rich. I am connected with family and friends, am able to take walks like today, have my sight and hearing to enjoy this moment and have love in my life. This walking reflection helps me to put things in perspective. But how did it come to pass that this walk in nature, on a fine day, can have this effect on me?
We grew up poor, living on the outskirts of town. Our backyard was the woods; our favorite fruits were the berries that grew wild all around us, our favorite foods those which we harvested from nature – fish, fowl and game. As kids, when we whined about being bored or having nothing to do, our parents would shoo us outside to play in the woods or grasses or, on days when we could get there, to the beaches or the river. Nature’s playgrounds.
As an adolescent my paternal grandfather would take me on walks in the woods, or even some days through the local cemetery as he taught me about nature and the cycles of life. Moments of closeness and reflection, taught to an adolescent, in the context of the natural world. I grew up in a state that we, today, might call troubled. And nature was always there for me.
Somehow, as I have continued through life for these, so far, 64 years (another symbol of my privileged life?) I have found myself often reflective in the context of nature. Be it the beach, the woods, the bush, or simply the back yard, nature has offered me this opportunity. When I am hurting, in pain, confused, undecided or, yes, even joyous, nature is a place to be.
As I had the opportunity to work with kids and families over the years, nature was there for us. A walk in the woods, sitting on a log on the beach, a moment or two skipping rocks on the lake, standing in awe of the mountain, (for these were my experiences) – any of these “caused me to pause” and often I, and the young person, or family, shared this experience. And in this sharing we found both a place, and a way, to be together in a healing journey.
In the presence of nature, enveloped in the loving arms of the natural world, I have for years found peace and, yes, perspective. Does it come from my childhood experiences, or from those I had, important, over the years? Is it a part of who we are, or learned with experience? Does it grow out of powerful personal and interpersonal engagement?
One day (I have told this story before) I was standing with Phillip overlooking a small piece of the Cree territory. We saw a rabbit. Phillip told me how this particular rabbit turned from brown to white as the winter approached. Camouflage, blending in, protecting itself, the natural process of self care – becoming what it must be in order to continue. Nature holds such lessons for us.
Nature rubs your back, calms your heart, opens your eyes, teaches you important lessons while, at the same time, offering you refuge from whatever storm plagues you at the moment.
Do “your” kids know that? If not, can you help them to learn about it?
Thom
