Timeless Meditation: Viewing Vastness

Worlds Away
Savoring outdoor time during my recent reprieve in the temperate Caribbean, I hoped the warmth would cradle me through another 72 icy winter days back home. Mother Nature’s wizardry transformed the oppressive grey I left behind into sparkling and vibrant blue, a welcome relief in this world that seemed worlds away.

Lounging on the balcony at night with vast stars washing over me, I felt an incredible sense of wonder. This feeling continued through daytime gazing on a tryst of blues from sea to sky, the all-embracing horizon suggesting I was worlds away.  And in some aspects, I was. 

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The Andromeda galaxy at 2.6 million light-years from Earth is visible with the naked eye. With one light-year equaling nearly six miles, I find this almost incomprehensible — that I could indeed be seeing a world trillions of miles away. Viewing the horizon at three to four-and-a-half miles — or even 30 miles at night, dwarfs in comparison. But when  considering that mileage in terms of traveling from my hometown to the next one, I’m still awash in wonder.

Waleba mengi komenzi genyanza
Awe-inspired, I pondered how long have humans contemplated the sea, the sky, the vastness to a place far beyond imagination? My search revealed this Longo (Tanzanian) proverb: Waleba mengi komenzi genyanza. Translated into English it means:  “The water of the sea is only to be contemplated.” A worthy proverb and so apropos to the universal social issues of today, but not exactly the information I was seeking.

Many philosophers, however, regard the universe in similar terms of human insignificance. They feel loneliness and worry. I felt none of that. Completely opposite, actually.

The Whole Package
Viewing vastness soothes me — whether ocean, sky, stretches of white sand, even fields of green grass, rolling hills, and mountain ranges at home. Their expanse is an aspect of a power greater than ourselves, offering an infinite abundance of support, a glint of life everlasting.

A blanket of peace and calm is only a blink away. Let Mother Nature freely wrap herself around you. Go outside and wander in wonderment.


“Exploration is in our nature. We began as wanderers, and we are wanderers still. We have lingered long enough on the shores of the cosmic ocean. We are ready at last to set sail for the stars.” — Carl Sagan in Cosmos

 

Rain Rain Go Away

I suppose if I live in North Carolina, I could close my eyes and say that Hurricane Florence is non-existent.  I don’t mean to sound flip but I sure wouldn’t be happy if I lived there knowing my legislators passed laws against climate change data.  But, on second thought, just being an American right now where appointed officials deny the science of global warming is equally disturbing.

Talk about “fake news,” or shall I say propaganda or better yet, follow the money trail?  Situations such as these underscore why I am against letting a computer tell me what to think, rather than making my own observations and decisions.  For the record, I am neither Republican or Democrat, liberal or conservative.  I’m not even in the green party although since I love nature and gardening I suppose I should be.   I am simply deeply concerned about what I see happening in my environment, the country, and beyond on our planet.

No need to post photos of Hurricane Florence’s wrath.  (She was only rated a Category 4 storm by the way.)  They’ll be plenty of devastating photos and stories on the news for days.   But, Florence is yet another indicator that climate change cannot be denied through policy.  Awareness is the first step to change but if we continually deny the reality of what is happening, are we simply going to be swept away?  I suppose Mother Nature will let us know…

 

Fighting for Her Life

Just take a look around and you may agree — this summer has been the exclamation point on climate change.  I fear the daily torrential rains, flooding, high humidity and disease carrying bugs are replacing the usual summers I’ve loved in the past.  Spring has been moving out the last few years.  Summer is packing its bags too.  Seems the oppressive grey gloom of winter is pirating the calendar and the full sun we use to have — one-fifth of the year.

Yet, seeing the global disrespect and exploitation of Mother Nature’s generous resources, I’m not so surprised by her increasingly loud protests through worldwide wrath.

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Like a machete disfiguring a beautiful maiden’s face, we have ravaged her fertile soils, cut down her shade-giving trees, poisoned clear waters, and shamefully killed off wildlife — all for selfish convenience or greed.

Assuming Mother Nature will complacently stand by is as unrealistic as pretending there are no consequences for bad behavior.  She is literally fighting for her life.

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned

Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.

—William Congreve’s 1697 poem The Mourning Bride

A woman's fury
Feature photo by xuan-nguyen on unsplash

 

Good Morning Mother Nature

One of my favorite morning activities is walking through the garden discovering what’s bloomed then cutting a basket full of flowers to become a bouquet.  Focusing solely on colors, textures and scents quiets my mind while the warming sun and cooling breeze brushing my skin soothes my HSP spirit.

Mother Nature offers this gentle good morning to anyone taking time to appreciate her splendid gifts.  Try meditating while creating a morning bouquet and see how you feel.  Refreshed?  Focused?  Rewarded?  At peace?  Grateful?

 

A bit overly ambitious this morning, I now have three bouquets to grace my kitchen, bathroom and bedroom.   How I love this time of year!

 

 

Mother Nature’s Midlife Crisis

Dear Mother Nature,

Are you not feeling well?  I’m wondering if you’re going through “the change” offering an unsettling summer and surprising autumn.  And how ’bout the Nor’easter that cancelled St. Patty’s Day parades earlier this year?

Was it night sweats or hot flashes that made our summer uncharacteristically rainy and humid?  Or when you swooshed 81 degree night air through my moon roof late September, and 70 degree temps on Manhattan’s sidewalks the first week of November that plummeted to 20 degrees only days later?

Generations debated your behavior for over 200 years and I’m just as perplexed.  Legions of soft leaves fell to the ground this summer amidst dizzying dog day temps.  Itchy allergy season never ceased.  Cucumber plants still loaded with blossoms in October bore no fruit, and tomatoes waited til autumn to ripen this year.  Harvest was askew.  Were you tired and sleeping late?

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unripened tomatoes on my windowsill

I understand if anxiety and depression are over-shadowing your concentration.  It’s heartbreaking to watch people cast you aside like a battered wife while others honor and try to protect you.  Perhaps your irritability is simply fighting back the only way you know how — launching hurricanes, earthquakes, fires and floods, one right after the other.

It may comfort you to know your panic attacks are gaining attention.  A recent Washington Post-ABC News poll reported that weather tragedies recruited more believers in climate change.

october 2017 roses and pine needlesContemplating the paradox of pink roses with fallen pine needles and burgundy hardy mums, I wonder if you’ve misplaced your date book…are the changing seasons of my homeland lost with your youth — and mine?

Decades ago, I grew up with four distinctive seasons.  Spring was spring; flowers bloomed, birds chirped, lighter coats replaced heavy wool.  Summer felt hot; fans whirred and fireflies dotted nighttime skies.  Walking on crunchy leaves in crisp autumn mornings transformed to warming hands around glowing bonfires.  Winter’s beauty was in its starkness and alluring silence from newly fallen snow.  Those were my reliable seasons until your mood swings took control.  If you’re going to go through “the change,” do you think you could relax into year-round, sunny blue skies and 70 degree temps?

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Are you observing changes in your own environment, like erratic temperatures this year?   What do you think is happening with Mother Nature?