CLOSING THOUGHTS

It is hard for me to believe that this crazy year we call 2020 is practically half over. Our lives have been in such upheaval that many of us have spent the better part of this year sequestered within our own four walls in an attempt to halt the spread of COVID-19 as it engulfed us like creatures caught in a wildfire with no escape route. Thus, we've isolated; and when we did venture out for basic necessities, we were unrecognizable - masks covered our faces - and if our hands were not gloved, then the hand sanitizer bottle was ever our companion. We've social distanced honoring a six foot invisible barrier between us and another masked individual wanting only to collect what supplies they required, and scurried back to the safety of their self-inflicted prison.

I admit that I've grown weary of this lifestyle, but am not willing to take the mask off or resist buying another container of hand sanitizer. I don't want to run the risk - no matter how small - of inadvertently transmitting a virus that I don't even know I have to someone else. However, there seems to be a very large percentage of the population that refuses to follow any safety guidelines. I can relate to both sides of this two-headed coin.

This morning I did as I always do: I took my little dog out for his morning routine which is mainly composed of sniffing every blade of grass, every leaf, every rock; and he can't move on until he has matched that scent with one of the several thousand stored in his olfactory memory bank. So, I've incorporated a new practice into our falsely named "walk." While he is sorting through the scent files, I find something in nature close to me and I put my attention fully on that solitary expression of nature. Sometimes I tilt my head back so that the only thing in my sight lines is the tops of the tress. If I am lucky, the sky at that early morning hour will be free of clouds and that glorious blue that only the sky can produce (the blue all the paint companies with they could duplicate) will form the backdrop for the green of the tree tops.

I resist the urge to label any object I choose to be with - totally with, no distraction. This morning it was a single bee. The hostas have some blooms breaking out, and the insect I watched was totally involved with that single flower he'd chosen. I just watched with no mental commentary. I was completely with that little creature. Other mornings I've zeroed in on a small line of ants marching along on the earth. I've watched earthworms that have surfaced usually following a rain. The benefit to me in this time with the natural world is that for that blessed space, even if it is only a few moments, I am completely unaware of the negative chatter that goes on constantly in my head. It is an accessing of that deep soul level peace. Like a meditation, my mind begins to still.

I've added an evening nature "meditation" now that the lightening bugs (or fireflies, if you prefer) are appearing. They are marvelous to connect with. I like to latch on to one as it comes up out of the grass and flies higher and higher taking me with it to the tree tops. And lest I forget, the sight of a vulture or several vultures seeking out just the right wind current and hopping aboard to ride that current to unbelievable heights lifts my heart right up to that height with them. Can you imagine the thrill of that ride?

Connecting with nature has been a lifeline for me many a time, but especially during this crisis (or need I say "these" crises?). It becomes an affirmation that in spite of what we "silly humans" do, the rest of creation continues undisturbed ... flowers continue to bloom, rain still falls, the sun continues to warm and share its life force with us every day, the stars show up in our night sky. There is much comfort in this knowledge, and that is where I have found solace.

I'm wondering as June fades away, what the second half of 2020 holds for us. Perhaps it is best if we don't know the answer to that. But whatever comes my way, I ask my higher power to guide me with strength and courage and, yeah, it would be okay if a little hope were added to the mix.

Namaste,

Mimi