Aligning With Resilience: The Web of Life That We Are

I once read a quote somewhere about how nature’s pace is always slow to medium, in stark contrast with the ever-quickening multi-tasking of modern human life.

Having recently returned from drinking in the majestic redwoods, riverways, and rocky coastal shores of southern Oregon and northern California with my family, I’ve been reflecting upon the power of the healing resonance of nature’s groundedness and serene beauty. And how, when we humans are able to consciously attune to this, the qualities of awe, wonder, simplicity and appreciation can naturally arise. Patience can show up like a close friend. Quiet spaciousness and birdsong can birth a quality of hope that is rooted in the truth of the life-affirming resilience of the web of life that we are.

Throughout the pandemic years and today’s difficult and challenging times, I am acutely aware that my practice has become more nature-based than ever. The data is in: when I am among the trees, whether on vacation or driving and walking my everyday life, and I practice seeing and sensing their groundedness and serenity (the big picture beyond our human-centered drama), I know in my bones that I am made up of the same elements as those trees and I, too, contain those capacities. From my experience, this clear-seeing is often the building block from which my capacity for kindness, caring, and compassionate action rises. And, conversely, when I hold the intention to align with kindness, caring, and compassionate action, this helps me to remember to sense the trees and experience the full picture. In slowing down and tuning in to nature’s beauty, pace, and changing seasons, we can feel supported:

  • in aligning with a visceral sense of deep rootedness
  • in remembering our capacity for steadiness, flexibility and resilience
  • in touching the peace that is present in the natural world in this very moment
  • in remembering our interconnection with all of life and what really matters

These life-giving practices that encourage clear-seeing and care feel so practical and essential at this time on Earth and, as often shared by Ayya Santacitta, we are not alone in wanting to be a part of the healing. The whole web of life is this resilience. We do this together: A fallen redwood log blooms a dense forest of bright green clovers. Winter opens into Spring, warms into Summer, lets go into Fall, and begins again. Baby ferns unfurl from the ash-filled wildfire ground.

May tuning in to nature, and our daily intentions and actions, support us in walking, step-by-step, through these difficult times, together. May we take refuge in what steadies and supports us on our path. May we remember our connection with all of life and our own sense of agency. May we know that we can, and will, play our part in the healing of ourselves, our communities, and our world.

‘Tis The Season To Take Refuge

Each holiday season, as winter approaches, I often find myself drawn to reflect upon what supports us in staying centered within ourselves throughout this busy season. While the world swirls in gift purchases, holiday events and social plans, I often find myself longing to move inward vs. outward, to balance the busy with the quiet, to reflect upon and recommit to the values and intentions I choose to live from, this holiday season and beyond.

If it fits, I invite you to carve out some quiet space this week to explore what helps to center, nourish and support you throughout the holiday and winter season. In Buddhist terms, “What will you take refuge in?” Or, said another way, “What activities or practices help point you back to awareness, your own inner goodness, the way things actually are, the truth of interconnection?” Practices might include certain helpful views or personal mantras that you hold in your mind. Perhaps something like, “All things are of the nature to change… this, too, will change” or meditation teacher Sylvia Boorstein’s mantra, “May I meet this moment fully, may I meet it as a friend.” Our personal mantras, like the whisper of a quiet wind on a summer’s day, can be gentle, kind reminders to the mind to lean back into our refuge again and again.

Other practices and wholesome activities might include: exercise, talking with a kind friend, practicing generosity, enjoying time in nature, meditation, yoga, experiencing your body and sound as you sip a cup of tea, being mindful of your sense experiences while doing the dishes or preparing a meal, noticing the goodness in others, taking in the sound of the birds outside your office window, connecting with a spiritual community that supports your spiritual practice, gardening, taking a few deeper breaths each time you come to a stop light, etc.

If you currently have a refuge practice, you might explore whether it still fits or what deepens your commitment to it. What do you take refuge in now? If you don’t have a current refuge practice and would like to create one, you might explore what your intention is for this season. Your intention might even become the mantra you whisper to yourself: “Peace, peace, peace”, “Let” (on the in breath) “Go” (on the out breath), “Just” (on the in breath) “Here” (on the out breath), for example. What will you take refuge in?

May all beings know peace and their own inner goodness.
May all beings be well.