Tag: Nature

A Place We Can All Call Home #belonging #connection #nature

On By Alethea KehasIn Reflections8 Comments

In dreams at night I explore belonging. Often, I return to school to discover the outcast searching for acceptance. In my quest for knowledge inside the confines of the walled classrooms I encounter the angst of rejection, over and over again. Belonging becomes possible only when I step outside and become immersed with nature. Here I am held, without inhibition, in the open arms of a mother-teacher who offers no judgement. Unconfined, I discover I am connected to the magic of existence.

Is this not true for all of us? Consider, for a moment, the irritable child struggle to learn inside a walled classroom who is then let outside to run and play without restraints, limitations, or conditions. If you can no longer remember that child as you, allow yourself to become that inner child. Step outside with wonder. Explore. Interact. Discover. Uncover. Open. When we find a safe place in nature to be ourselves, transformation occurs in a manner that brings us closer to the joy of belonging and acceptance.

Infinite possibilities for joy occur when nature is not a forced interaction, but an opportunity for individual exploration. Nature does not ask us for conformity, but for the space to expand and grow. In nature, the strange mingles with the expected. In nature, beauty and the beast coexist as equal partners, and hierarchy becomes a web of interdependence.

There is both science and metaphysics that come into play when we recognize our place of belonging to the natural world. In nature, our heart rates regulate to the mother-pulse of Earth, our emotions become more grounded, and our bodies destress. This is all scientific. We are of nature, and being intimately connected to nature is essential to our wellbeing.

Nature, though, also awakens a deeper sense of connection that moves into the metaphysical. It offers us an opportunity to explore the magic of wonder that expands beyond the sensory. When we open ourselves to the mysteries of the natural world, we realize we are infinite beings playing in a landscape of infinite dimensions. We look to the sky and find our origins. Beneath our feet, we feel our roots. Our breath weaves the air of life through our lungs and back out into the invisible expanse to find another body to nourish. Our mouths feed upon the cells of primordial life, and our bodies repurpose the nutrients into new growth. Sometimes, when we are still enough, we can observe the dance of the untethered spirit, reminding us of the temporary force of gravity. When we feel into the universal hum of life, we can feel the web of light that connects us, always.

When the Bird of Night Bookends Your Day #barredowl

On By Alethea KehasIn Animal Messengers, Reflections22 Comments

It was not yet 7:00am in the morning, I had reached over to grasp the teapot, about to fill it with water to brew a cup of chaga, when I looked out my kitchen window and saw the owl staring back at me. It was perched on the lowest branch of the hemlock just beyond the far side of the pool, a couple of yards away. An “Oh my god,” or something close to it, escaped from my mouth is I put down the teapot and grabbed the phone.

My morning visitor, a barred owl on a hemlock

There was no need to panic. The owl had no plans elsewhere, in fact, it was quite content to spend its morning in the copse of hemlocks, peering into my soul window, and occasionally onto the forest floor for a sign of breakfast. Or would that be dinnertime of an owl?

The barred owl casually hunting for a meal

One thing was certain, I had not been expecting a visitor of night to show up at my backdoor that morning. And, for a bird known for its eerie call that sounds an awful lot like “Whooo Looks for Yooouu?” my visitor never made a peep.

The barred owl was silent during the entire visit

For more than an hour, the owl hunted silently the small woods in my backyard, mostly staying in the same hemlock, and quite frequently peering into my soul window directly through into my eyes.

It was a bit unsettling, but felt like a gift

If you have never stared eye-to-eye with an owl, perhaps you will get a feel for what it’s like through these photos. There is a reason why owls have, throughout time, been associated with darkness and magic. A reason why they are associated with wisdom, secrets, and symbols of what is hidden and perhaps needs to be revealed. Every bit of lore associated with owls becomes unsettlingly clear when you stare eye-to-eye with one.

And then it was back

Since my morning visitor (who appeared again at the end of the afternoon), was a barred owl, I found myself starring into eyes blacker than night set inside a tawny white face with a yellow beak. It’s rather like looking into a sky devoid of stars (planets, satellites, and moons), but that doesn’t exist. Hence the feeling of otherworldliness. It is no wonder owls are associated with magic and mystery.

So much magic wrapped into one form

When I looked at my visitor, I saw my dear and departed friend and mentor Sue with her cloak of owl feathers, I saw my maternal grandmother, and I saw Athena encased inside one magnificent form that more than once I felt like hugging.

My visitor definitely had a huggable quality

Let’s face it, owls are rather adorable, albeit imposing figures. I have a tendency to want to hug pretty much any form of wildlife I see and it takes a fair bit of willpower not to. Instead, I settle with filming and taking photos, when possible. Yesterday brought two opportunities to do so, as the owl appeared again late in the afternoon, just after I had settled onto the sofa to work on my manuscript. It was nearly 4:40pm, and after typing a few lines in book three of the Warriors of Light series, in which perhaps not coincidentally, the barred owl makes a reappearance as an important messenger, my friend reappeared. This time, outside my living room window. Like déjà vu I looked out the window to find the same barred owl starring directly into my soul. Forget the crossout, I was now convinced.

A messenger from beyond the day

A long moment in Nature’s peace amid this orchestrated madness

On By Alethea KehasIn Reflections39 Comments
Even amid the most chaotic times, nature offers us peace and balance
The Buddha in the herb garden beside my front steps

Madness has taken over the country I call home, but there is peace to be found amid the chaos. Humans are not strangers to chaos because we are most often its creators. Nature inherently seeks balance, but human nature is its primary upsetter. How utterly ironic that our highly evolved brains push us towards disharmony all in the name of supremacy. This quest for supremacy churning out cycle after cycle of battles for dominion over ourselves, other species, and our planet, which is not just ours.

Yet, She endures.

In the soft hours of mourning I pause with her presence. The cat I am far too attached to takes advantage of the moment to cocoon herself between my thighs and belly as I watch a small orange slug, that is not really orange, but more the colors of an oak leaf transitioning from summer to fall. Its glistening body is horned like a young goat and in this pause I find its beauty. Curled into a half-heart around the edge of an oregano leaf in this garden of herbs and wild weeds that seek only coexistence, the slug defies gravity. Or seems to.

Beyond this small patch of earth that sits below my front step, the male cardinal that built a nest in the lilac sits on a branch of a maple singing his sermon of the day. How glorious he is to behold with his coat of red and his beard of black haloed in summer’s green. Yet I know he is more than that. I have held the fallen feather of his kin up to the sun and witnessed the full spectrum of light. But, he knows this too. Listen to him.

His mate is in the peach tree is gathering a meal. Equally lovely in her understated tawny hues she wears red on her beak, the crest of her head, and threads its hues through her tail and feathers as a reminder of balance. She is earth, fire, air, and always water. Water because it is a feminine element. And each of her feathers holds the same spectrum of light as his.

The cardinals are not the only birds singing to the mourning and gathering food. The phoebes who nest under the peaked roof of my unused front door are busy doing the same. Dedicated to the tasks of the day they provide a chorus with the finches, nuthatches, and chickadees. Circling the clouds, the resident falcons calls out for breakfast and I take in the scent of the ocean from the sea roses before I head inside for mine.

Stilling the Quickening Pulse

On By Alethea KehasIn Reflections13 Comments

I have neglected my writing for the majority of spring. This blog, untouched since the end of March. Only a few more words have made their way into the pages of my two manuscripts, but I have not been entirely fallow, nor has the life around me. In my backyard, “No Mow May” has turned into a meadow filled with color and noise. During the day, the pollinators dance among the whispered seeds of dandelions before they sink their bodies into the violet petals of self-heal. Bees, so many bees, emerging out of this wild yard with pockets of gold tucked into their hind legs. When the sun hides behind the hemlocks, the wood frogs take over, and dusk becomes a mating song.

In the front yard, the sea roses have intoxicated June, and me, pulling us into summer almost too suddenly. Spring always manages to run ahead of me, overwhelming, but it is still my favorite season. When I lose hope in humanity, I turn to the garden and search its wonderland.

It can be difficult to slow down when nature propels us towards the sun. I can feel the effects. Fatigue urges a pause, and so I sit down to write. Finding the centering solace of words. We create not to produce, but to come home. Our art is our individual origin stories. It brings us back to our essence. Here we find ourselves, again.

In my yard, nature sings our shared origin story and spreads wide the senses in a canvas of color, sound and scent that brings my body to a place of homeostasis when I allow the stillness of presence. It is the time when our Mother welcome us back into her warm embrace to find our center.

This is not an easy time in our shared history, but few times have been easy since we lost sight of our origin stories and began to cling to the heady thrust of power and greed. Rapid growth is not always advantageous, in fact, it rarely is. Anything that disrupts the natural rhythm of life creates chaos. This is when our origin stories become dystopians of corruption. Through a screen smaller than a slice of bread we can watch the world falling apart, sending our senses into overload. The heartbeat becomes erratic, the breath held shallow before it is released. That is no way to thrive.

Yet, we cannot entirely escape it, even if we turn off the device. We are, unavoidably, a part of it. One strand of the web weaves into the over, even if the strands are made from inorganic elements. We cannot escape our connection, but we can change the density of it. When adjust the force of its pull and free ourselves of at least some of its tangles, it is easy for us to access the center. There is no better time than spring to sort through the false trappings of life and find our way home again. It can be as simple as bringing our bodies with all of our senses engaged back to the earth. One bare foot, followed by the other, leading us back to our origin.

Why I am Absorbing Robin Wall Kimmerer’s Wisdom #reciprocity #connection

On By Alethea KehasIn A Better World of Books, Reflections18 Comments
Order this exquisite book if you do not yet have a copy.

I recently ordered the two books by Robin Wall Kimmerer that I have not yet read, Gathering Moss and Braiding Sweetgrass for Young Adults. I had not known about the latter book, which she cowrote with Monique Gray Smith (illustrated by Nicole Neidhardt) until about a week ago when I started digging more deeply online into the wisdom of Kimmerer. The fact that she’s adapted her masterpiece, Braiding Sweetgrass into a manual on reciprocity for young adults has me particularly excited because the sanctuary I am working to create will have a focus on facilitating a connection between the natural world and youth.

Every time I listen to, or read, the words of Robin Wall Kimmerer I become the rapt student. Life distills into essence through her narratives and a feeling of coming home overwhelms my senses. More often than not, I find myself weeping. And here is why: Even though our modernized world tries to rush us towards unfettered “progress,” our cells are continually pulling us back to their origins. They beg us to become rooted into our collective Mother. They plead with us to come home. There is an undeniable longing that awakens when we (re)learn our origin stories, and no one conveys them more eloquently than Kimmerer.

She is master storyteller. Kimmerer’s gift for weaving indigenous and scientific wisdom into compelling narratives draws the listener/reader in so deeply everything else disappears. Her words tug at the threads of DNA that join the solitary life into the web of all lives. One cannot help but feel the longing for reconnection. I am not holding onto an illusion that I can do it perfectly, but if I can nurture a space where the natural world exists in harmony with its human visitors—who are, after all, children of the land—in a way that threads reciprocity into one small piece of our world perhaps a bit of this longing will turn into joy.

Thank Goddess for Wonderful Friends

On By Alethea KehasIn Reflections11 Comments

who push you into the uncomfortable, knowing you can thrive.

Not a peak (Mt. Washington) from my drive up I89, but you get the idea

Friday night I drove two hours up I89 to celebrate my friend Heidi’s birthday in Vermont. The drive, although filled with highway miles, was beautiful. When you drive north in New Hampshire, you reach the land of peaks and valleys. It is stunning in winter, and in all seasons. Winter may be the landscape of dusted gray, but it is also the season of exposure. The frozen elements call the eyes to look deeply. To peer into the stasis and see what is being revealed. Here in northern New England, it is the geography of the land’s stories that grab ahold of you in wonder.

The drive took me back to my Goddard days, to sixteen years ago when I traveled this highway to study writing along with ghosts and friendships. This is where I met Heidi. She is the wood and metal to my water and earth. We are opposites on the spectrum of elements, which is probably one of the reasons our friendship formed quickly and endured. We see those places inside of each other that need to be revealed. We see what needs to flourish and grow and what needs to be tempered and tamed.

It was during this celebratory weekend that Heidi told me I should start writing a business plan. Naturally she would find this exciting. It is a total task of joy for woods and metals. Action-packed order. I resisted, naturally, because I am predominately a mixture of water and earth. I relish in the dreamy world of visions, but I also like to manifest them into reality. Heidi knows this, and as all good friends are, she was patient and nonjudgmental as she listened to my tired excuses. “Well,” said. “Do I really need it if I’m going to live there. I know it’s going to be a work in progress.”

“It will be fun,” she told me. “Trust me. It will allow you to begin forming it into manifestation more clearly.” She has seen my visionary template. This working document that has the semblance of structure, but keeps adding on more watery wishes.

Imagine her surprise, and mine, when I returned home the following day, found a business plan template, and began filling it in. “I guess I don’t need to send you mine,” she replied to my text. I hesitated to mention that I was, in fact, having fun in the process. It felt like a capitulation to metal. I didn’t want to sacrifice my water for fear of losing fluidity.

But, I could not deny this watery world of dreams eager for structure and definition. That swirling sea of seeds eager root into growth were waiting for my permission to take form. And as I began filling in the lines and white blocks with words, imagine my surprise and delight with how natural and joyful it felt. Yes, perhaps I was actually having fun with a task that I had told myself would be tedious and dull.

Although I may be mostly water and earth, like all who seek balance, joy arrives when we feed what needs equal nourishment. It is here that we find our hidden strengths, flourish, and spread our winged forms. So in the moment of pause from working on the rather lengthy document that contains the structures of the elements of my vision to create a nature-based sanctuary of connection, I am celebrating the joy of a balancing friendship and the gift of kindness that pushes us into the uncomfortable phase of growth.

Boundaries of Perception #polarity #unity

On By Alethea KehasIn Reflections8 Comments
A dry summer and fall has led to a low water levels, revealing the path of the mountain stream on its journey to the lake.

These days I find myself drawn to the boarder lands. I walk along the coastline of lakes and rivers searching for connection amidst separation.

The detritus of oak leaves collects in the shifting boundary between water and land.

I study the blurring of water, sky, and land where there is the perception of a stark contrast. A boundary of colored light or the density of collected molecules creates the ruse for the eyes, begging them to find the line of separation.

Light plays with reflection and color, creating false boundaries for the eyes to decipher.

It is here where I see the melding of elements.

I am stilled by the rhythmic lap of water, wetting the drying earth.

I pause to watch the sky pour down color into the shadowed lands and am reminded of hope. How something that may seem heavy is really weightless.

The blending of elements

A Magical Day Leads to a Magical Night #bears #crows #northernlights

On By Alethea KehasIn Animal Messengers, Reflections, the labyrinth, Warriors of Light, yoga20 Comments

It began with a large murder of crows and ended with the Northern Lights. Hundreds of the black birds spread across the rooftops and trees, flying into the brilliant October sky to send their caws to the wind and my awakened ears as I ventured from the parking lot to my class.

This would not be an ordinary day.

After a morning of teaching yoga and running errands, I returned home to a day without work. I fed the demanding cat a second breakfast, and the dogs their treats, then settled on the couch to cull through emails. Moments later, I felt an impulse to lift my head. Beyond the layers of autumn leaves and woven arms of the old apple and surrounding pines and maples, I saw a black shape in the oldest pine at the edge of my property. Even though it yielded no discernible shape, I knew instantly it was a bear.

Throwing caution to the wind (I do not advise this), I grabbed my phone and, without alarming the oblivious mutts, made my way onto the porch, out the back door, and through the gate in my backyard so that I could get a better look at what was attached to the old pine.

Mama bear from her sentry position on the pine

And there she was, staring through the golden leaves, watching me. Slung of the lowest limb that would hold her weight was a mama bear. Scampering up the trees above, were her three cubs. I inched slightly closer as I tried to focus my camera through the foliage to capture my unexpected guests. Not a smart choice, but I was close enough to the fence door for a quick exit should she decide to leave her post. Strangely, I felt safe and calm. Mama watched me without alarm as I snapped a few photos, and filmed her family as they settled in for a nap (Sorry, I am not attaching them film because I did utter an S*&t in shock).

And nap they did, for the next hour or so, while I wandered back inside to observe behind the safety of glass with Millie the cat. The dogs, succumbing to a strange impulse to slumber through their lunch hour, slept on their respective sofas, unfazed until their internal alarms finally alerted them that they had missed their meal.

Well not really, I fed the dogs a late lunch (and the cat, of course), and heated up some leftover butternut squash soup for myself while I strategized how I was going to walk the dogs without disturbing my slumbering guests.

It was as though the bears had put a spell on the household, and in particular the dogs. Quick to react to a passing dear, even when the curtains are drawn to the darkness, they failed to detect the four ursine intruders in their backyard, even after we walked through the front door. The only challenge was convincing Rosy that she did not want to take her usual lap around the house before we ventured down the street.

We were gone a mere ten or fifteen minutes, which is not uncommon for our walks these days. Senior dogs prefer the couch to the pavement, and so we turned back home before too long. As we entered the driveway, two crows flew above our heads, cawing into the pine behind the house where our visitors slept. Continuing to caw, as though in warning, they stayed in the tree until we were back inside.

As the dogs settled onto their couches to rest after their strenuous walk, I scanned through the foliage for my four friends. An hour unfolded into another as the bears woke, one by one, and casually made their way down the pine to explore the wooded area behind my house. Five hours in total, as I watched in rapt wonder with the occasional break, as they wrestled and played to the drumming of the woodpecker on my apple tree.

The cub I called Sula, trying to figure out how to use the swing in my backyard

It was pure magic. Joy mingled with peace as the protective calm of mama bear flooded the area around my home and made its way to settle any energy of unease inside my home. What a gift it was to be present, for these five hours, in quiet observation of these wild wonders. Naturally, I could not help thinking of my Warriors of Light protagonist Sula while I watched the bears climb and play. Lover of trees and slumber, Sula carries inside of her the spirit of bear. And it is bear medicine that found me yesterday, as it always seems to at unexpected, yet perfect moments, to pull me through the veil of dreams. Tugging, gently, the cloak away from courage.

Sula bear on the seesaw

What are you waiting for…come play

And as if this was not enough magic for the one day, the night decided to compete for wonder in a show of Northern Lights:

The northern lights viewed from the back and front yards

July 4th: A Pursuit of Happiness…#originstory

On By Alethea KehasIn Reflections, Warriors of Light23 Comments
My friend Irene immersed in my “Happy Place”

A couple of days ago, while gazing through the depths of nature’s canvas that wraps the cove of a lake, I joke with my friend that I married my husband because of this place. “I can see the joy in your face,” she agreed.

Although I did not marry my husband because of this “happy place,” it quickly became a site of refuge for me. It is a place where the soft sentinels of pines hug a summer home with the scent of comfort. Here, nature offers us her unsalted waters in a basin formed by a ring of small mountains. My favorite way to enjoy it is simply to sit and be still. To surround myself with the songs of the kingfisher and loons; the perfume of pine needles and campfire smoke; and a panoramic wrap of New Hampshire’s beauty that allows the wind to spread the sun across my skin in a way that makes me forget about the burn. It is the setting that inspired my Warriors of Light book series.

This morning, in another town, I sit with technology on my lap inside a home hugged in an acre of hemlocks, oaks, and maples. Here, the sun does not angle beyond the tops of the trees’ canopy to set the water aflame with light before it disappears into the night. Here, Nature’s floor is a patchwork of moss, dandelions, and prunella vulgaris (also known as self-heal or heal-all), instead of the soft throw of pine needles. Yet, it is all a part of Earth’s body.

This morning of July 5th, I find myself thinking about connection as my mind travels back through our shared and divergent origin stories. America’s origin story, for some, began on July 4th. This celebration of independence from another nation. A separation of one group from another in an effort to pursue, “life, liberty, and happiness.” But it did not begin or end here. There is intricate web of light and darkness that weaves back and forth as it goes towards the center and away. If you travel to the furtherest point inward, you get the source of everyone’s collective origin story. The place before separation. Today, we exist somewhere far away, or so we seem to, divided by time and designated spaces formed by different choices and beliefs.

When I think about America’s origin stories, I think of this web. I think about how one group’s pursuit of happiness led to the destruction and enslavement of others. I think about how my happy place is not really mine. Not because it belongs to my mother-in-law, but because long before it was purchased by my husband’s family, it was “Turtle Island.” It was the home of the indigenous peoples before it became this America that is the home where I was born, but not where all of my cells orgininated. I think about a nation made “glorious” with the muscle of enslavement.

And I think about how so often we opt to forget. To make choices that split the web into sectors of partial histories and partial truths. A partial origin story is not whole. There is no wrap of connection. Instead, there are severed lines with polarized ends seeking reunion. Even though our bodies of biology and chemistry, and our essence that abides by the complex, yet simple laws of physics, are constantly trying to remind us that existence is only possible with connection.

There is a reason why joy runs through me in the song of bliss when I sit at the edge of the lake’s body with my feet in the water sunk into the sand. Here, I allow my body to remember the place of its origin. Here, my cells realize that separation is a ruse of defiance as they harmonize to the heartbeat of the mother we all share. And here, my soul expands beyond the orb of Mother Earth to touch its origin, realizing that the origin is already inside of me.

And here, I allow myself to imagine the web repaired and whole, once again.

To Dream a Life into Being #wonder #nature #being

On By Alethea KehasIn Uncategorized13 Comments
The river beside the trail

Or perhaps I should say, “To walk a life into being.”

My husband and I spent the 4th in nature. It was the perfect way for us to express a reverence for what feels worthy, real, and based upon love. We brought the dogs along, which meant a perfect day for our canine companions as well.

Sitting on our front porch with a cup of tea dividing us, I scrolled through the “All Trails” app on my phone until I found one that just felt right. A new trail, to us, not too far away. And so, after breakfast was consumed, water bottles filled, and a couple of granola bars tucked in pockets, we set off in a race to the “minivan.”

We no longer have a minivan, but my husband and I love to shout out, “go straight to the minivan,” to incite the dogs and annoy the teenagers. The said teenagers, though, had their own plans for the day. Still, it brought a smile to our faces, and, naturally the dogs’ who could not have been happier. There’s nothing like a good car ride as long as the destination is not the vets.

With windows cranked to snout-level, we were off on our new adventure. The day perfect according to the weather. The high hovering around 80, the breeze just enough to keep most of the bugs away, and the sky as blue as our children’s eyes. We did miss them, but sometimes it’s nice to have that time to recall how you began.

And for us, it began 31 years ago. I’m going to take a slight pause to let that sink in…

We were at the place where our son is temporarily residing, the St. Paul’s School Advanced Studies Program. It was July 4th, 1991, and although I can’t tell you the exact details about the weather, I can recall in full-color the certain sundress I borrowed from a friend to impress a boy I had seen on the baseball field at recreation time. We met over bowls of ice cream, and the rest is our story.

So here we were, 31 years later, celebrating our story in the quiet way we knew best. Out in nature. We parked beside a wooden sign in front of a field of grasses, milkweed, and butterflies and suddenly I found myself falling in love, again. This land, not wholly ours, but from which we are all birthed, enfolding us like a mother who forgives even if she never forgets. And we, walking upon her, opened to love.

And wild wonder.

I was 48, 17, and 4. All ages wrapped up into one body, which is the way wonder finds us. Time slips past meaning and nothing else matters. The body’s bounds tangible, yet free. And the mind, that illusive organ without a physical structure, finds its tune and begins to sing of home. There it nothing better.

Life unties its binds in these moments and pure being erupts into the dream without the nightmare. As we walked that trail through the butterfly fields and into the woods beside a river, I began to dream of Life as it opened before us. The smile, spreading ever-wide upon my face. My body alive with the energy of being. And that vision that enfolded wider with each footstep, imprinted in full-color upon the canvas of my mind.

What a gift of a day.