Some of you know that the last little while has been challenging for me. My foster child, who had been with me for
2 ½ years, moved out under difficult circumstances, leaving me in a place of deep grief. The dog was also feeling this, and had become over protective and sad, and I would often see him sitting there with his head bowed down. His boy had gone. Who would play with him now?
On Friday I decided we both needed a little beach time, time to reconnect with Nature and feel God’s presence around us. We got to the beach and the dog reluctantly followed me as we walked along for about mile. Head hanging, none of the usual exuberance of a beach trip in his little body. We found a spot to sit and rest, and I began to meditate. Then I lay flat on the sand and allowed the sun’s rays to flow over and through me, imagining them penetrating each cell of my body, filling me with light even as I lay grounding myself on the sand. I felt the stress sink into the sand, the tears absorbed, the heaviness lightened just a little as I let Nature, God, Mother Mary, and the sun hold me and heal me.
After a long time, Gibbs and I got up to walk back to the car. Just as we rose from the sand an osprey flew right over us with a fish between it’s talons, lunch caught and being taken back to a nest. I stood in awe and watched it fly above me, reminded that, truly, everything we need is provided. And Gibbs was transformed! We ran along the beach and he was barking and running in circles around me and back to his lively and happy self. Both of us refreshed and joyous.
Grounding in Nature is certainly one of my main practices in life. She helps me move through emotions and come to a place of stillness and belonging. She gives me rest and a sense of completeness. She fills me with love and reminds me that I am one of God’s beloveds.
This week I invite you to find a time to be in Nature, to feel the earth or the sand (or even the frozen ground) beneath your feet. Maybe to lie flat, stretched out on the earth. To walk and breathe the air in deeply. To sit and see what comes your way and what message of hope it might have to offer. Mary Oliver wrote:
It doesn't have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.
Pay attention and let another voice speak!