I Bow To Mother Nature
December 8th, 2019
Nature has long been my safe space, my teacher, my playground, that which restores my balance, health and sanity. She nourishes my soul, liberates my mind and works my body. But since my accident, I have been intensely afraid of the many unknowns: the wind, sand, branches, uneven terrain… and so I have not opened myself fully to her restorative, healing powers for three long months. No hikes, not an ocean swim, zero beach strolls of which to speak, yet still, from my perch at my mother’s house atop the mountain, looking over the tall evergreen trees of Mill Valley out to the San Francisco Bay on these blustery autumn rainy days which my Northern Californian self has always loved, I am overcome by a profound soothing calm and deep spiritual renewal. It doesn’t need to be bright or sunshiny inside or out for nature to work her magic. Through the wall of large vista windows, I feel protected and safe, while also benefitting from the sense of being surrounded by and one with the expansive natural world — a part of something far larger, my life in rich perspective, connected to ancient ecosystems and species and lifecycles, amid an unstoppable interchange of past, present and future. Today was altogether stressful, starting with and perhaps stemming from the meager 50 minutes of sleep I could muster on a treacherous night of eye spasms, ocular oddities and eye socket pain. And although it was cloudy and grey at dawn, the light still blessedly inched through my window, just as it dissipated earlier this evening when I desperately needed a change in pace. This unequivocal twice daily occurrence is nonetheless unique and magic, simultaneously intimately personal and awe-inspiringly universal. I see you, I thank you, I bow to you, Mother Nature.