Practicing Mindfulness in Nature Part two:
Another outing, this
time in the expectant daylight of May, Lucas and I find ourselves in a nearby
small woodland in which I whiled away many an hour of my teen years. On the forest floor leaf litter scatters while a pair of
squirrels take chase. We sit awhile and watch as they race about.
Bordered on one side by a residential
neighborhood and the other by a golf course, the small ravine of mixed hardwood
and softwood somehow maintains a sense of being unspoilt by all the nearby
development. I know otherwise but am temporarily lulled by the wonder of the
moment.
Our heads on swivels, our mouths
agape, we are descended upon by small birds. A flock of White-throated Sparrows has
swooped in exploring the lower brush, hen-like, their tiny feet scratch through
the thick layer of last year's decomposing leaves. There must be thirty or more
of these dainty sparrows whom I am new to identifying. Black eye stripe, yellow
lores and boldly white throated, they are slightly larger than the Song
Sparrow, their cousin.
My son explains they are newly
returned spring migrants. I recognize in them a shared delight in this little
woods, leaves in bud, fern fronds still coiled up as fiddleheads along the riverbank.
One alights on a low hanging branch to my
left, so near that I could reach out and touch it if I cared to.
Heaving up his long lens and aiming
towards this moment's object of our attention, Lucas, an avid birder and nature photographer, attempts a photographic capture. He snaps a quick succession of
clicks and lays back down on one arm avoiding the discomfort of the ancient
Hemlock roots which not so subtly wind their way down the sloped bank towards
the river.
Another day in the same woods, his
older sister Maria joins us as she often does. Their keen ears catch wind of
another creature's sound and turn my eyes towards a good sized bumblebee.
"Mom, check this out!" They
point to where the forest floor is moving. Air from the bumblebee's wing buzz
is causing the leaf litter to lift in places. Humbled, I can honestly respond
that I've never before noticed such an occurrence.
When each of our three kids were
little, they happily brought me back to the level of grass blades and ladybugs.
Our youngest daughter Clara, Queen of the Calapitter's, was noted for her
ability to be present to the insects she adored. And although it was a time of great
wonderment, I must admit that too often I was not fully present. Agenda driven
by arms length lists of household chores and seemingly endless meals to
prepare, my attention was often fractured. I never would have guessed that it
would be my teenage children who would quietly urge me back to a mindful
awareness of the natural world I have always loved so much.
Practicing mindfulness in nature is
the act of losing oneself to the experience of the present moment as it unfolds
in the natural world. In our stillness we find the ceaseless motions of nature
begin to reveal themselves to us. But our choosing
to pay attention is required, and if the natural world around us isn't
worthy of our attention--what is?
Jill MacCormack
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