Tag: intentional living

bird’s eye view.

Stephanie ULeave a comment

I had to go up.

Because up is where I feel small.

In the best way possible.

Up is where I am humbled.

Surrounded on all sides by immense beauty.

I am infinitesimal in comparison to places like this.

A tiny dot.

A blip in time.

And my ego was checked somewhere mid-ascent of this 80 degree incline.

Here, is also where I am reminded of who I am.

A loner.

A wanderer.

A wild one.

Content with disappearing into the great expanse.

To go unnoticed in nature, is an art form.

To draw attention away, not towards.

Unlike society, wallflowers are much obliged in the wild.

Most conversations are had without speaking a word.

Revelations are kept close to the heart.

Worries are carried up and away on the wind.

Secrets sink deep into the forest floor.

No one cares what I have to say here,

how I look,

how I present myself,

or what I’m wearing.

There are no humans to be found.

Only feathered friends.

I am joined by three Bald Eagles, swooping up and over the mountain, just above my head. So close that their shadows blot out the sun for a brief moment and I am left mouth ajar, marveling at this magical experience. It’s the closest I have ever been to an eagle in flight.

Nature knows who I am.

She bores right through my center.

There is no fooling her.

I go to her when I need a wake up call. A reminder. A confirmation. Because peeling back the layers of societal programming is a long, arduous, and jarring process. Confusing, too. This strange compulsion to continue on as I think I should, as I was told I should, but not as who I am. Cramming myself into some made up ideal to appease the masses and conform to a structured normalcy, even if it doesn’t work for me.

I am digging myself out of this deep trench, from decades of insecurity, mistrust, doubt, and inferiority being shoveled so high upon me – from a life that left me wanting to be anyone but myself. I am surely and steadily unbecoming all that I became so I can step back in to who I already was.

And I will not find her in most places that people tend to go looking.

appreciation of place.

Stephanie ULeave a comment

Wild Ones,

Trebbe Johnson wrote something so beautiful here that I want to share it with you. It was published in Orion Magazine in 2015 and is titled Uncommon Gratitude. This piece is something that resonates so deeply with me. It also hits home as she writes of Northeast Pennsylvania, where I am from.

Gratitude is huge in my book, especially when it comes to my own personal relationship with the natural world. It might seem like something so simple and yet, it is so powerful in its transformative ability – both within our own psyche and in building a deeper, more meaningful bond between human being and our wild counterparts.

There are so many emotions that come up when we witness the taking, the destroying, the exploitation, the devastation, the abuse, the violence, the purposeful and intentional harm – to wild places and spaces, to animals, to trees, to all who may have once called a place home. Or in the practices and methods that drive unecessary pain and abuse to living things while contributing to global warming and climate change. Attached are emotions of grief, sadness, frustration, heartbreak, and also an overwhelming feeling of helplessness.

Many times we believe there is nothing we can do. But there is. There is something so profound in the simple recognition of place, of animal, of an individual life or the collective, of what once was, what will never be, what could have been. To acknowledge, to honor, to respect, and to share with it or them, our joy as well as our pain.

I agree with Terre. There are so many gifts a place can give to us. And in return, we can offer our respect, our appreciation, our gratitude, our thanks if/as we take or the land provides, our expressions of wonder and joy, and even our recognition of sadness and grief. It is a way to honor place and be reciprocal in our relationship.

We have the opportunity and the ability to see and feel what others may not. To hold place as important and sacred, even if it never belonged to us, only to the wild. To hold all which is alive as sacred and worthy of respect and existence. To honor what gives its life so that we might live our own. This includes recognition of the forgotten, the lost, and the hurt as Terre so eloquently speaks of in her piece.

——————

To mirror Terre, here are some gifts that I receive from place:

  • morning birdsong
  • sunrise through the trees
  • friendship with an old pine
  • a pair of Ravens nesting nearby
  • Crow calls both distant and near
  • a boisterous and brave Red Squirrel
  • a male Downy Woodpecker who doesn’t mind my company
  • a forest floor full of Trilliums in spring
  • trees that offer privacy and protection
  • rich soil that brings abundance and sustenance
  • visits from an array of Dragonflies and Damselflies
  • Orb Weavers spinning amazing webs
  • a graceful fox darting through the woods
  • a Flying Squirrel only witnessed by hidden trail cam
  • a raft of Turkeys who gather for mid morning meetings
  • unobstructed views of starry nights
  • entertaining Moth watching nights
  • an orchestra of night sounds
  • lightning bug light shows
  • full moons like a backyard spotlight
  • nightly aerial shows at dusk from a local bat colony
  • some of the best and most cherished memories of my life so far
  • a place to finally call home

——————

everlasting.

Stephanie ULeave a comment

 I am here but I am gone. 

A soul released while a body remains. 

Reclaimed.

Recycled.

Reincarnated.

I am both finite and infinite. 

A life taken as life is returned.

Into another.

Back the earth.

Across the universe.

I am nothing and I am everything,

all at once. 

The carrion bird in the sky.

The soil spread across the forest floor.

The network of mycelium that connects all things. 

I am nowhere and I am everywhere.

A formless existence.

Where I lie and by way of the great expanse. 

One body that becomes many.

Insect.

Animal.

Earth.

Air.

You see death and decomposition.

Such permanence.

But I am an ageless energy. 

Ephemeral. 

But ever returning.

To this life and the next.

I die to be reborn again,

as life and death are a spiral. 

Animal, mineral, vegetable,

human body, soul energy,

weaving through, within, and among, the magical circle of wild things. 

Imprinted.

Everlasting.

make it count.

Stephanie ULeave a comment

Our lives are strung together by seconds, minutes, and hours. Days, weeks, months, and years. Boxes to check marked by age and gender – dictated to us to be the norm. Deadlines to meet – forged by societal expectations instilled upon us since birth. College by X. Career by X. Marriage by X. Babies by X. Homeowner by X. We may impose expectations on ourselves that come from some voice within, influenced by the above, centering on words like, “success”, “achievement”, “status”, “wealth”, “affluence”, “worthy”, “accomplished”, “important”, and “majority”. 

Sometimes, parents and prominent figures play a role too, putting us on a fast track to somewhere they want us to go or someone they want us to be. They can also set us up for failure or throw us off our own course, knowingly or unknowingly. Often, we find generational cycles of trauma repeating. Either way, some ways, or all ways, woven into the fabric of our lifetime are the choices we make that determine our course – influenced by nature, nurture, and all that surrounds us as decisions are made and actions are taken.

There are decades that make us and seconds that can break us. There are moments gone in a flash while others seem to drag on endlessly. All the while, time ticks on – unaware that living things only have so much of it to use. Time doesn’t know that a lot of us may squander it, that most of us long for more of it, that work shouldn’t be the brunt of it, that at times we fear it, that we don’t always know what to do with it, that we think we have enough of it, that quality should lie before it, or that might wish to turn it back when we feel like we fucked it up or took it for granted. 

In our youth, we rush time. Hurry up to grow up.

In young adulthood, we underestimate time. It’s infinite and on our side.

In our midlife, we chase time. So much to do and so little time in the day to do it. 

In old age, we question time. How much of it is left for us? 

“I can’t go back.” 

“I can’t start over.”

“I can’t do this again.”

“I can’t change who I am.” 

“I can’t undo what I’ve already done.”

I’ve heard these lines so many times, most often in my own voice. And all but one are a lie.

You have the time. Right here. Right now.

To leave a toxic, unhappy, or unfulfilling relationship or job.

To cease a joyless pursuit.

To start a new career.

To write a book.

To go back to school.

To play an instrument.

To ask for help and support.

To fall in love.

To take that adventure.

To pursue a passion.

To climb that mountain. 

To chase our dreams. 

To reinvent ourselves.

To break some rules.

To let go of expectations, ours and theirs.

To break down walls.

To heal.

To end generational cycles.

To look fear in the face.

To live life the way we want to.

If we don’t know how much time we have left, how do we know we’re too late? Guess what? We don’t. No one can turn back time. We know this. None of us can go back to start over, at least not in this lifetime. But what if we started from here? Today. Now. Tomorrow. This week. We can change the ending by grabbing a hold of the present narrative. Only our past is locked in. And that’s okay. We’re not meant to turn back time. We’re meant to live out the time before us.

We all have a clock. Grab its hands. Make it count.