Mother Nature

I crouch low to the earth and touch the surface of a loose granite stone. It is about the same length and width as my outstretched palm. The rough stone fits comfortably in my hand as I scoop it up and overturn it, investigating its inhabitants. Several tiny sweet ants dash around a relatively ginormous gray slug clinging to the rock. I take a deep breath as I slowly stand up, and then gently blow the little ants onto the ground. The slug can join me on this journey. I turn toward the trail that I so proudly hacked through the woods and step inside, relishing in the crunch of underfoot twigs.

Several thin wisps of spider’s web stick to my arms and face as I enter the cleared path. Initially grimacing, I stop to consider that I just casually destroyed the labor of that poor spider’s entire day. I’m mildly displeased by the sensation of spider silk against my skin, but not truly inconvenienced nor damaged. But the brave arachnid, she is not devastated. I suppose she could be and I should not assume her feelings. Perhaps she does feel devastated. But I should like to think not. Instead, she acknowledges it as an act of nature and proceeds to rebuild her home. I’m not sure why we often assume ourselves safe from such casual decisions of nature, when we ourselves regularly impose such Acts of God on the species surrounding us. I acknowledge the inevitability of Nature, but I do not agonize over this understanding.

This acknowledgement allows me to see that Nature is allowing me to walk this trail. In most cases, she only gradually infringes on the boundaries I have created. She encroaches slowly enough that I can usually decide on the amount of influence to allow her; As long as I want to continue responsibly using her bounty, if I am willing to maintain my “property,” then I typically may. But if I neglect it; if I neglect her, she may take it back. And she would reclaim it, not out of bitterness, jealousy, nor anger, but simply because it could now serve a better purpose. It is not anything against humanity that Nature should reclaim her underutilized spaces. She would welcome me back, as long as I am willing to put in the effort to make a place for myself.

And in some instances, perhaps there are places or aspects of Nature which she does not wish to have touched. She does not want us within the volcanoes or at all floors of the ocean. She has her secrets. She has marvels for us to explore, and yet it is not our right nor our duty to know all that there is. For we too are mere aspects of Nature, fulfilling our role as such. And yet, Nature is also so much bigger than the aspect of her within us.

She could tomorrow fill this trail with impenetrable poison ivy and spiked vines. And most of us would surely relent and allow her to have this space. Or perhaps some may take extreme measures to alter and destroy, as we do when we want larger homes or more resources. Humans are often eager to fight against Nature’s presence. But the less we fight, and the more we take only what we need and do our best to work harmoniously together, the happier we shall be; More at peace. I would rather have a wealth of peace than any other kind of wealth or status.

A new patch of yellow flowers unfolded today along the south side of the trail. I count several petals carefully and conclude that each blossom has at least ten. The slender jade stems radiate from central points in clusters of at least six. I see up to twelve on another over there. Further into the forest, the underbrush is speckled yellow. But I dare not wander off the trail for a closer look. The center of each flower appears soft; dotted with strands of mustard-colored thread. Purple-tipped unopened buds lie hidden beneath each floral umbrella. The larger plants also have several thin, irregularly-lobed leaves that taper off to smooth ends, their undersides tinted mauve. At the base of each stem cluster is a bed of large green leaves, shaped somewhat like elongated lily pads; Lopsided ovals with ridged edges that bear almost no resemblance to the graceful purplish leaves on the stems above. Perhaps these leaves belong to a neighboring plant and not to these yellow flowers.

Beneath the ferns, I notice that most of the violet flowers have now receded; The long leaves of their hosting plants now stretching to the sky, shadowing the shriveled remains of their petals. Tufts of bright lime grass are poking their heads through the wood chips on my trail. I find that by walking alone, I cannot suppress the creeping weeds and ivies of the forest. I must resolve to either work harder or to simply allow the infringement.

The rolling clouds above threaten to give way to a spring storm. Itchy, red-stemmed vines lurk treacherously close to my ankles from both sides of the path. The intensity of mother Nature’s presence presses heavily from all sides. Although I am in the comfort of her embrace and know that I am loved and that this love is undeniably unconditional, it is not without fear or pain or uncertainty. Nature’s unknowable logic which we attempt to delicately measure by scientific means remains wonderfully misunderstood. I am humbled by the power of her overwhelming virtuosity. The allowance of me to exist as an aspect of Nature is an inexplicable demonstration of absolute love. Within me I feel all aspects of Her, vying for my attention: the raging fires and the crashing waves, and also the baby squirrels nibbling in the dirt around the walnut tree, now familiar with my scent. They no longer scurry away at my approach. I hope they perceive me as I am; another animal walking in the forest.

A cougar’s excrement lay clearly fresh on the path before me. I perceive it as another subtle reminder of Nature’s potential. Conceivably, I am presently stalked by a mountain lion. They tend to circle their prey unseen, and it has been said that if you find their droppings, to be wary, as that can be one of the only signs of one in your vicinity. They are unlikely to attack, as they do fear us. But if hungry, they may not be opposed.

My ancient mind quickly scans every dark hole of the forest. Beneath the log pile. Behind the prodigious oak. A tightness begins to rise in my chest. But then I remember and acknowledge that if this is the way I am to go, communing with Nature in harmony, then I shall. Not to be foolish, by any means. I humbly respect Nature’s dangers and wish not to tempt Her consequences. However, if not overreaching and merely utilizing my righteous claim to the land; to my position with Nature, I need not fear. Nonetheless, I continue to respect the boundaries.

And then I see also the distinctive parallel lines in the mud indicating the recent passage of a gentle white-tailed deer. Perhaps my stalker was a mild doe and any perception of danger was entirely in my head. The trifling creature likely feared me more than I feared the potential panther in the woods. Our fears often motivate unnecessarily dangerous defense mechanisms against acts of Nature beyond our control. If we follow Nature’s lead, we can live in abundance and protection. If not externally, at least internally. Nothing can ultimately protect any individual from Nature’s desire to remove aspects of herself that are no longer necessary nor productive. Nevertheless, all can argue that some are removed far too soon. Untimely death is a fragmented lesson to us; A reminder of her might and inexplicability. Or perhaps, the reverberating effects of one taken too soon inspires something deeper within us; Something primal. This reminder of the inescapability of nature inspires me to do better with the time I have.

I clear my mind so that I may listen to her voice and infinite wisdom. I can be at peace with whichever way she guides my life. As such, I am called to do the greatest good with my time, by listening and responding to her biddings. With these ideas stirring in my head and a tingling in my fingers to record them, I urgently walk to the end of the path. I carefully place the stone bearing my slug companion near an unfurling fiddlehead and I rush indoors. I scrawl my thoughts as quickly as my body allows. A sudden downpour momentarily pulls my attention from this writing and an appreciation of my dry hair and clothing spreads warmly through me. Upon the completion of this diary, I am not surprised to see that the sun has reemerged from the black rain clouds. The corners of my mouth curl upwards as I re-lace my shoes and march back to my beloved woods. I am surprised, however, upon ducking beneath the hanging grape vines at the trail’s entrance, to find myself facing a young woman. Her planetary eyes fill with despair as she speaks in a low voice, “Should not I die in the place of my child? The souls of our children will not be forgotten. The love that you bore unto the world remains.”