After discovering I'd been heading in the wrong direction with my life's work for the longest time, I was lost. I decided to write daily, without any preconception of what to write, in the hope it would become a map for me, revealing a path forward in real-time. I hope these little pieces of writing, are solace and support to anyone who is lost or flying on a trajectory they no longer want to be on.
My hilltop home, Autumn Equinox 2022
8) Fertile
When I drop my worries, simply by being curious and open, I feel fertile.
It's the Autumn Equinox, a gem of a day, sunny and warm, the millions of dew drops bejeweling the grass glint and glimmer from every angle.
I walked out this morning to be with Oaks.
I started feeling tentative and confused. I mean what am I doing emptying my life in some hope of clarity? This is so counter-cultural, so unknown to me.
To go and be with Oaks and hope for a teaching on this bright and blessed day seemed all I could do.
As I touched the craggy bark in reverence, yesterday's rain falling on me through the sunlit leaves, I just wanted to honour this amazing being.
Words gushed into my mind: I want to make art from you, for you, with you.
The curious cows arrived and, not wanting to disturb them, I moved on.
I sat under and was enveloped by, an older Oak in the next field.
Cocooned by its silence I let my thoughts drift.
All the to-do thoughts and should-have thoughts just drifted by.
And I notice that by simply creating space for myself to go out and be open to what I see, hear and feel, by being willing to be taught, something in me is fed.
I walk back up the hill with a kindling of excitement sparking within me. There's no reason.
I sit now, with my green tea, basking in this glorious sun, feasting my eyes on the greenness still adorning the hills where animals graze and I feel fertile at last.
Like I could nourish a seed here. In me.
9) When Is An Oak Not An Oak
An Oak tree doesn't know it's an Oak. It doesn't think that as it's an Oak that it must do Oak things or behave in an Oak way.
The Oak is just responsive. Open and sensitive to the minutiae of each moment.
Brimming with the potential to grow and thrive, it reads the language of the weather and the landscape and alchemises all the information it receives into growth and change.
What if I didn't hold any ideas about who I am, how I should react, my relationship with those around me or what I should be doing?
What if I was just open and responsive to each moment, like the Oak, sensing the energetic flavour of what is present and my response to it?
Sounds so perfect to be that way, fully grounded, aligned and in flow with the energies contained in and around me.
Life is experientially, to me, very different to that. I'm tired or hungry, stressed or emotional, lost in thoughts, and my judgement clouded.
Is this something to be corrected, denied or rejected? My personal feelings of upset or dismay, my fears and concerns? When my heart thuds in my chest or stomach clutches and lurches reverberating with the emotions within?
Because I could look at that Oak tree, living its beautifully receptive and sensitive way of being and think badly of myself.
Maybe my weariness, my shortened patience span, my aching need for quiet and solitude is my perfect response to the energies of the moment. Maybe this uncomfortable set of emotions and physical sensations is the perceptive reaction to what is here. Maybe it's the labelling and judgement of them, the resistance, that's the part that needs dropping, undoing from my system.
So much undoing to be done. And yet I can't do the undoing because that creates more doing!
It's just noticing. Just seeing it and then feeling the relief that comes with that, the softening, the weight of all my concepts blessedly slipping from my shoulders, giving my heart more space to be in.
This is the burden an Oak doesn't carry, the thoughts about anything being different or wrong. Or the thought they should act or be any different from who they are.
This is why I experience such palpable peace and support when I am with them. The essence of their is-ness naturally radiates, filling my senses with a serenity that soothes all the sharp edges of my frantic imaginings that I am somehow broken or wrong.
You can find the previous installment here:
Another beautiful reflection, Kate! I find myself eagerly looking forward to each new installment. :)
soothing for my being. I was in the UK last week. The oaks had me think about you. They eminate such quiet beingness in your country. Interesting, they feel somewhat different here. thank you again.!