On Friday it began to snow—first just dandruff drifting, and I was skeptical that anything would stick. This has been a drab, warm winter with very little snowfall. You know the wonderful feeling of being wrong when you expected the worst? The snow kept falling, and the flakes got bigger, and I dimmed my office lights to brighten the world outside the window. The grant report I’d been fussing over was suddenly good enough to send along, and I slipped out the back door of the office-building towards the forest.
Snowfall on a still day has a way of swallowing sound. The woods’ spruce, fir, cedar, and pine all stood gracefully adorned and divinely silent. A loon called in the distance and a red squirrel chirped overhead. Under the snow, slabs of granite and vibrant swaths of live moss peeked out in spots. A stream babbled steadily downward towards the tidal river, which twinkled and glistened as delicate six-pointed crystals landed everywhere on her moving surface.
I was overwhelmed with gratitude to be in these woods—for my mobility, for my workplace, for the opportunity to be immersed in such bliss-inducing beauty on this weekday afternoon. Was it serotonin? Dopamine? Endorphins? Spiritual contentment? Likely some combination of all of these stirred in me a swirl of joy that has lingered for days.
Saturday morning the forest outside our windows looked like a goddamn Christmas card. What did we do to deserve this? Mother Nature is flinging beauty and magic everywhere for anyone who cares to notice. Granted, her influence is greater in some places than in others… but even flocks of pigeons and sunsets in cities can be sources of fascination and wonder.
Since graduating college, I’ve had the privilege to choose where to live and work, and have consistently prioritized wildness—the Rockies, the Amazon Basin, the Andes, the redwoods, the rocky coast, marinas shared with seals and seabirds, and now the Maine woods. I feel grateful that I find so much delight and fulfillment in simply paying attention to the natural world. Especially at times when I have felt hopeless or full of rage, tuning into the more-than-human world has helped to ease my suffering and give me perspective.
In response to ecological marvels everywhere, we have the option to ignore them or to be amazed. What do you do to try and pull your consciousness out of human hullaballoo and into Nature?
Some of my favorite words from Mary Oliver—
“Instructions for living a life.
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.”
FOR THE LOVE OF EARTH 