Nature as Sanctuary
“There is sanctuary in being alone with nature.”
Jonathan Lockwood Huie
When life swirls around us into a tornadic wind of uncertainty or trudges along dragging its heavy boots or orders us about with its responsibilities and expectations, it is important to have places that serve as sanctuary. This morning is a reminder that the place I live and write is both sanctuary and studio. Like Jonathan Lockwood Huie, I need time to be “alone with nature.” I am blessed that it is right outside my door.
I thought today I would invite you for a visit!
It is just after dawn, and though I have brought my books and papers to the screened porch just off my kitchen to work, my various projects can wait. The morning is chill and bright. I sit for a minute, to let my senses take in the beginning of another sacred day.
To concentrate, I close my eyes and listen to the music of morning. High in a pine, that rare but amazing visitor, a piliated woodpecker, raises his voice. It is thrilling! He returned just a few days ago after a winter away and is now the one who calls me outside as the early sun splashes through the newly leafed trees. The chorus behind him of mockingbirds, jays, robins and wrens is like busy cafe chatter. I sit quiet and still, try to decipher each song.
Turn my attention to my own presence, I listen to my heartbeat, as I breathe slowly and deeply. The air is full of the smell of Spring on our place: roses, honeysuckle, grass and, yes, even pollen. I think about pollen, that powder of life floating in the air all around us. Seeding the next season. Finding the flowers of this summer’s fruit. Assuring another autumn’s harvest. What a gift to know we can be sure — life will go on.
As I step outside to stand in a puddle of splotchy light beneath our old water oak, I quiet my muscles, try to be invisible, to be part of this place. Not noticing me, two squirrels whose antics are a constant show for us, bury pecans and then dig up other ones to hide again. Like me, I think, always busy! Not far away, a cardinal is cautiously flying near the house. She is building a nest in the fern that hangs from the eave beside my back door, as she has done for several years–I’ll have to be more considerate as I come and go now.
Down the hill, two of the buzzards that visit my small pond circle our old barn. I have come to love these buzzards who are brazen and strong. One day seventeen of them showed up — a convention! Another day three of them walked up to tap on our back glass door. The pair now lands on the roof ridge of the barn. The upstairs loft has lost a board, and they have decided the opening makes the barn a perfect nesting spot. We’ll have another gawking baby buzzard among the leftover pieces of rope and cardboard boxes soon. In all conditions, families find a way!
A stone’s throw from where I stand, at our fish pond, small birds drop in, drink, splash and lift back into the oak sapling. The minnows we added this week nudge the water’s edge then dart beneath when bird shadow crosses. Pecan pollen tassles floating on the water are jostled by the wind. They turn, separate, connect, as they bump into oak leaves torn by a recent storm. It is art in motion. I watch for a while.
Needing to acknowledge my gratitude, I take a moment to walk our shady Prayer Path. Dampened by the air, I shiver in the coolness. With the azaleas and dogwoods almost finished, their prom colors fading now, only the humble ground cover blossoms. In a few months, this patch of trees will be a closet of dense shade, respite from the summer heat of more open spaces. For now, the canopy still filters light like church windows. I listen to its holy mystery, almost hear growth.
Between the path and the pond, our little Stream of Consciousness gurgles and splashes. I note that water — like pollen and sun and air — is a lifeforce. The sound of it refreshes me. I squat beside the trickling water like the child I want to be, rearrange some of the stones in its way, create new pools and eddies, let my fingers feel its gentle but urgent flow. Flow - energy, lives, time alll move on. We must move with them.
Heading toward the house, I listen to the birds one more time. The piliated woodpecker has moved down to the neighbor’s woods, back into the taller pines, but his smaller, less shy cousin has arrived, is pounding away, hollowing a nest in what we call the woodpecker limb — a dead portion of one of our many pecans. We will have baby woodpeckers in a month or so. I smile thinking about all the babies, this year a group that will include, for the first time, four baby bluebirds. Two of my nesting boxes hold tiny sky-colored eggs. The royal blue males swoop in to check the nests as I walk towards the house.
Enough contemplation. Though it is hard to shift my attention, I have much to do and so do you! It is time to get started. This day and the next await. I hope you feel your spirit fed; I do!
Remember, whatever your journey, whatever your situation, whatever your connection to the Greater Good, you can use your own sense of sanctuary… to find God, Peace, Self Assurance, Unity. Where do you find it? For me, it all begins here!
When We Need Sanctuary, Nature Can Be a Blessing!
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