Tag: Hope

Song of the Evergreen

Fall has changed my landscape, taking my breath away. My words seem to disappear. I have been looking at the world through the end of a kaleidoscope, every slight turn, every new angle, producing a new vision. The trees, stripped bare, open my horizon. I stay inside on the days the thick veils of smoke from burning forest fill the air. Nature prophetically parallels the changing landscape taking place in society. In silence I let go of the chaos of thought, creating space for a new configuration.

As a child I was churched in liturgical seasons which I experience as divine revelation made visible in nature’s signs and symbols. This unfolding begins with advent, waiting for what is to come. Light diminishes, darkness moves in, but we wait with expectant hope for Love.

I was running late for church the first Sunday of Advent and reached the door just as the chanting began. “Wait for the Lord; be strong; take heart.” I was transfixed by this familiar and reassuring refrain. A large green wreathe stood in the center of the sanctuary; evergreen, the symbol of hope. Four candles, one light for each week of waiting. As a new flame is added, hope burns brighter.

On a Sunday afternoon hike  I found myself walking to the rhythm of that mantra. Be strong. Take heart. Hiking is a truly Zen experience for me. I can let go of every thought and awareness, moving forward one step at a time. When I pause to catch my breath, I look around me, reading the signs of nature, discovering its messages. More than once I have had the feeling of standing of holy ground, stepping into the universe’s cathedral. On this particular walk, I right away saw the thick trunks of trees wrapped in braided vines, tall hardwoods, pillars creating a firm foundation. Ferns spread on the ground like green altar cloths. The evergreens stood out, a new stand of pines relishing in the possibility that through the winter, the light would make its way into the usually dark forest and they would grow!

Each of us has our own way of making sense, finding meaning, expressing understanding. The signs and symbols speak to me; from the sights, sounds, and touch I draw courage, not a lasting supply, but enough to get me from one week to the next. I am going to envelope myself with this season, using the time to reflect on past, present, and future. I know a seed is being nourished in the darkness and trust that in time I will emerge with the light, finding new answers to old questions. What does Love compel me to do?

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Nature’s Creative Turmoil

Some days the complexities of the universe overwhelm me – like the power behind nature that overflows banks, uproots trees, and burns through forests. Too much. Too fast. Left to its own pace, nature heals and restores itself, creating new life, making adaptations, and pushing forward. Last year I felt dwarfed by the massive beauty of the meadows, peaks, domes, rivers, lakes, and waterfalls in Yosemite. I could not begin to grasp the reality of the furious, chaotic and seemingly catastrophic geologic forces that began millions of years ago and led to this majesty.

Rangers in the National Parks readily point out that forests and grasslands have evolved to deal with their own natural disasters, in a historic cycle of growth, dieback, and growth. Eco systems eventually recover and sometimes create something new in the process.

Some years ago in a deep state of grief I became fascinated with nature’s capacity to heal itself, studying the impact of the 1980 volcanic eruption of Mount St. Helens on the surrounding destruction of life and devastated landscapes. I was encouraged by the return of the first signs of plant life, such as birds flying overhead dropping seed into small crevices that held enough moisture to support particular forms of plant life.

I began to look to nature for the continued signs of hope and promise and I return to nature to be reminded of these lessons over and over again. When historic floods and turbulent winds destroy towns that are a part of my own familiar landscape, I wonder how as a community of beings, we can begin our own cycles of adaptation and re-growth. Nature takes its time; change begins with but a seed. Human communities feel the urgency to make rapid restoration.

Nature says – we are not starting over; we build on what we have at hand – it’s a dynamic, evolving process. Creation also gives clear evidence that this is an interdependent process. We are integrally dependent on one another to identify the resources and the path to recovery. And despite our good, immediate efforts, it takes time to create new life. The reassurance that all things can be made anew with those who trust and work with one another for the good of the entire community provides hope, promise, and possibility.

 

Photo: Thirty years after the blast, Mount St. Helens is reborn again.

Early colonists bloom on a hill near the volcanic monument’s Coldwater Lake: foxglove, lupine, pearly everlasting, red alder. The tree stump is a reminder of pre-1980 logging operations.

Photograph by Diane Cook and Len Jenshel

National Geographic.com/2010/05/mount-st-helens

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