Sunny Attractions

A figure from nature that has always fascinated me is the sun. It’s part of every landscape on every continent all the time. No matter where I’m at the sun is always there – visible or invisible. For some reason my eyes are always drawn to it.

The first thing I do in the morning is open my blinds to let in the light. Of course, some days it is brighter than others. I refuse to close my blinds again until all traces of the sun are gone. In my classroom the blinds are always open so that I can turn off the florescent lights and teach by the natural light from the sun.

At first I assumed this fascination with the sun stemmed from my fear of the dark. I’ve always had that fear. It was something that I thought I would eventually grow out of. Of course, I still have it just not as bad as when I was a child. But now I realize that the sun fascinates me for reasons beyond fear.

For me the sun represents stability. It is a constant sight that I can always count on whether it is visible in the sky or hidden by clouds. I know it is always there. The moon even gets it light from the sun, so in essence the sun is even there in the night. It is nice to have something so stable in a world full of instability – a world that constantly changes.

I find in a lot of my poetry that the sun is always referred to somehow. I have even written several poems where the sun is the central image. It always evokes such strong emotions and desires from me, which I feel is the basis of good poetry. Plus, it is a sight that almost everyone can relate to in some for or other. It is a central image of connection. No one can escape the sun.

The Unseen Connection

Pam makes a good point in her blog, http://gentleplanet.blogspot.com/2009/03/healing-power.html, about how nature connects people in ways they never thought they would. She says, “We are all connected. There are people who have not yet seen that connection but that doesn’t mean that they are not connected to each other and to us. That is happening to all of us right now if we will just pause, breathe and be aware.”

In my opinion, the biggest problem with our society today is that no one stops long enough to notice or appreciate anything. We are in such a hurry to live life to the fullest that we miss out on a lot of things in the process. That is also why industrialization is slowly eating away at the vast forests and fields that are pivotal to natural habitats. We are too busy looking to the future and technological advances that we don’t notice the damage and harm we are causing in the present.

Like Pam finishes, “Be in the moment.” Learn to live life for the small moments and the small gifts that are all around us. It creates a lot less stress and a more connected life: to nature, our surroundings, and the others who inhabit the Earth with us.

Passivity Not Enough

A blue canvas encompasses the Earth.
The sun a crayon for the ages
Casting yellows, reds, pinks, and oranges
Across the sky.
Birds flying over the page
Leaving their mark on the eye.
Preparation for a new birth.

Two days ago the weather was beautiful – a bit chilly but refreshing. I just couldn’t stay cooped up inside on such a beautiful evening, so I decided that it was the perfect time to stop everything and go sit in my spot.

As I sat there, I saw the hickory tree in my yard that was right in front of me on the swing starting to sprout buds where the leaves are trying to make themselves known again. I saw the bright, vibrant, green grass peeking out from underneath the brown, dull leaves of fall and winter beneath my feet. In the front yard, across the street, I saw the remains of the farmer’s harvest glowing in the evening sun.

Suddenly, sitting by passively watching nature wasn’t enough for me. I had to get up and interact with it. Maybe it was my body’s way of saying, “Hey, give me a little exercise,” or maybe it was the Indian teachings of last week’s readings about connecting with nature in a personal way. Who knows, but just sitting in my spot wasn’t enough.

What I ended up doing was starting out on a two mile walk around my country block. Along my walk I saw a wood duck and a mallard swimming in a small, small pond down the road from my house. When they finally saw me, we engaged in a staring contest that they won of course, so I continued on my walk.

After I had travelled about a mile I found myself surrounded by trees on both sides of the road. I used to know these woods as well as my own back hand. We had made numerous paths in them as children. I noticed that there was a new path in them that I had never seen before. It looked like someone’s dirt bike or quad trail, and I decided I was going to go and check it out. I must have walked in circles following this path. Up slight hills, steep hills, circling around trees and bushes, and just wandering about through the forest.

Then I saw an end in sight. The path brought me out to a farmer’s field that was directly behind my house, past the trees. The only difference is that I was higher up in the field. The sight standing before me was amazing. I saw clear blue skies, golden fields, domineering mountains, and the colors of spring finally wiping out the dullness of winter. It was breath taking and well worth the extra two miles out of my way! I just stood there looking around for about twenty minutes amazed at the beauty before me.

When I was done and realized that I needed to head back home before it got dark, I took a mental picture with my mind. I also felt much more relaxed, free, uninhibited, and calm. This sight helped to put my life back into perspective. I wish everyone had the opportunity to feel completely in touch with their surroundings. Maybe our lives would seem less stressful.

An Unusual Sanctuary

When I went away to college for my undergraduate degree, I was an outsider for the first time in my life. I was on a campus where no one was familiar and people who looked down on my religious beliefs (the college was Reformed Presbyterian and I was Catholic). In classes I listened to conversations that mocked my religion and outside the classroom I listened to uninformed or ignorantly informed students talking about my faith as if it was something to be ashamed of.

This was the first time I had ever been surrounded by such narrow minded individuals. I had always confronted various religious beliefs from an angle of curiosity instead of from one of disdain, and I really was not prepared to handle the situation.

Across the street from my college apartment was a beautiful wide-open park. I loved to go there late at night when the streets were all quite and I was surrounded by darkness. In the middle of this run-down, dilapidated town full of college students, there was a sanctuary. I could go there at night and not worry about being seen or questioned or criticized.

I would talk to God or just myself even. The swings were my favorite place to sit. I would glide back and forth just to feel the weightlessness. Anybody watching probably thought I was loon swinging on the swings and talking to empty space (that’s why the best time to go was after dark). That park helped me through so many problems. It also helped me to discover who I was and that I was stronger than I looked or even felt.

That is the one thing I miss about college. I haven’t been able to find any other place that calms me or encourages or reinforces me like those swings in that park. I begin to wonder if it was the actual park or my own selfish needs that made that park such a sanctuary. Whichever it is, I am glad that I was able to find it.

Traveling

I was reading Becca’s blog again, http://backyardtransliteration.blogspot.com/2009/03/spirit-in-skye.html, when something struck a chord: “The next year, my roommate would ask me whether, when I missed Scotland, I was longing for where I had been or who I had been when I was there, but I cannot unravel the one from the other.” This is something that I have been struggling with for a while.

Lately, I have had the urge to travel again. My first visit overseas took place the summer after my 6th grade year. We went to visit my uncle who was stationed in Belgium. My family and I visited 7 countries in four weeks. It was amazing! I still vividly remember the Alps, the concentration camp, the ice caverns, the salt mines, etc.

My next trip overseas had to wait for the summer before my senior year of college. This is the trip that changed me dramatically. Before I took this trip I had never been on a different continent without my family. At first I was afraid, but when my plane touched down in Rome, Italy I was too awed to be scared.

That entire trip, all 18 days, my shy demeanor vanished. In its place was someone who wasn’t afraid of the language barrier or traveling down an unknown path. Often times I was the one asking directions using stick figures, hand gestures, and very little Italian (very little Italian). I felt free and independent. No one knew me as the shy, awkward girl from southwestern Pennsylvania.

Now that I am back home, I yearn for that feeling of freedom again. I am itching to travel to the British Isles and see all the places I have read about in my studies of literature. I want to be that carefree, adventurous person that I was in Italy. Some places force us to step outside of our normal selves and take on new personas. Everyone needs to this from time to time.

Paralleling Nature

Translucent masses of grey
Swirling in the sky --
Turmoil brewing.

Tears streaming down
To frown the earth in sorrow --
Depression sulking.

Clouds wrung dry
Clearing the turbulent sky --
Sadness released.

I always wondered how nature writers could so perfectly relate to what is happening in nature. This is no longer the case. Yesterday's weather was cold, gloomy, and wet which matched my life perfectly.

Yesterday evening I found myself sitting on the swing in my backyard looking out towards the horizon where the sun should have been setting. Of course, I saw only the swirling of ominous looking clouds. We had just found out the my sister was being admitted to the hospital to begin treatments for Guillian Barre, an extremely rare virus that attacks the central nervous system. My sister lives on the other side of Pennsylvania from us in Philadelphia (quite a far trip).

After the numerous phones calls from my mother about what was going to happen and what my sister's outlook was like I just needed to get out and process things. Therefore, there I sat in the cold rain and darkened sky swinging like it was summer. The slight breeze helped to clear my thoughts and put everything into perspective for me. For once, nature was the rational being.

Now, today, the sun is shining, and my sister is full of hope and on the road to recovery. It's like God is smiling down on my family right now. It's funny how nature can parallel our lives and help us stay grounded through even the most terrifying of times.

Murdering Habitats

I live in a small town southwest of Pittsburgh. There is a farmer’s field directly across the street from my bedroom window. For years I have watched corn, soy beans, and wheat grow and be harvested in this field. It is how I internally judge the seasons.

The problem: This field is slowly disappearing. Even though I live in a small town, the metropolis of my hometown is no longer big enough to house the families that continue to grow from generation to generation. Each year I see another plot of farm land being sold to build houses or even entire housing projects.

Not only is the farming land being affected, but the forests are disappearing as well. My house is surrounded on the three sides by woods. Each year these woods seem to grow smaller as people build houses from the south, north, east, and west – slowly chipping away at this natural habitat.

On top of the housing industry, gas wells are also popping up everywhere destroying farmland and forests. I’m not even sure what these wells are used for. It takes months for developers to drill these wells wreaking havoc on local residents – humans and non-humans alike. Then, the developers leave, and I don’t see anyone coming back to check on these wells. It is like they drill and then abandon their handiwork. I’m looking at an abandoned well right now outside my window in the middle of the farmer’s field.

Is the disappearance of farmlands and forests for societal purposes supposed to now be considered a part of nature? Is this murdering of natural habitats supposed to become a common occurrence that we should just passively accept? With all the technological advances of modern society, why can’t we find a less harmful solution to these environmental issues?

Cemeteries and Death

A classmate recently posted an entry about cemeteries (http://gentleplanet.blogspot.com/2009/03/cemetery.html). This got me thinking. The last time I was in a cemetery was when a close relative had passed away from lung cancer at the age of 67. It was heart wrenching. The only times I have been in a cemetery was for an actual funeral.

I don’t like to go back and “visit” the dead. I guess it stems from my beliefs about death. When we die, our souls leave our bodies behind like abandoned shells. After death my loved one is no longer inside the body kept in the casket.

Plus, whenever I am at a cemetery, I am afraid to walk around because I don’t want to walk on someone else’s grave. That may sound silly, but what can I say.

The way I look at it: I can talk to my deceased relatives anywhere at any time. I don’t have to be standing in front of a grave that harbors their skeletal remains. Now, I will admit to never have lost anyone extremely close to me as of yet. I still have all four of my grandparent and most of my really close great aunts and uncles.

Will my inclinations and beliefs about cemeteries change? Who knows. I’ve heard people saying that going to a loved one’s grave site helps to keep a physical connection to the deceased. I don’t know, but I do know that I will be more than happy to wait another ten years before I will be faced with the answers to these questions.

Loss of Innocence

They’re just trees:
Oaks, hickory nut, crab apple.
Maybe they’re more:
Walls, fences, secret passages
Hiding an imaginary world.

It’s late afternoon and the sun is sitting low in the sky. Who knows how long this heat wave will last (55 degrees). Before I can even make it two feet to my special place on the swing, my eyes become transfixed on the various trees looming in the background. That wall of trees was once the border between reality and make believe.

The strip of trees directly behind my swing that separated our yard from our neighbor’s was referred to as the ride-a-way. That place harbors all of my childhood imaginings. My siblings, the neighbors, and I would spend hours playing in those “woods.” They became anything we could imagine: a house, a fort, a haunted maze.

We spent hours clearing a path that weaved through and around those trees. We used brooms to sweep the dirt off of the older dirt buried beneath – a futile task. We had sword fights and military wars waged amongst those trees. In essence, those trees fostered our childish creativity and adventure.

I can’t remember the last time I ventured into that make believe world or even stopped long enough to miss that feeling of innocent freedom. Why is it that nature seems so much more available as a child than to a grown adult? To be honest, I cannot even remember when the ride-a-way lost its appeal. It looks so lifeless and so different than what I remember from my childhood. What changed – me, the trees, or both?