Lately I’ve been coming across signs, one after another, that are directing me to listen. Listen to the natural world. Be still. Allow the awareness of every sound, every whisper, even the faintest rustling of tiny feet on dry leaf, and let it be felt in my heart.
It’s hard to find quiet in a noisy world, especially this one, especially right now. But it’s doing something to me, this searching for and allowing for silence. Something healing.
Yesterday, a storm kicked up and I listened. It was magnificent. Later in the evening, doggy niece Ivy and I went for a walk after dark and heard the frog symphony in full cry, rejoicing over the rain, though we’ve had quite a lot lately. I think frogs celebrate ALL of it, every moment, without thinking “damn, can’t we have a dry day now and then?”
Then I fell flat on my face and I heard every bit of that too, including the surprised oof as I hit the pavement, Ivy’s little claws scrabbling as she scooted away from an unexpected event, then her excited panting as she came to investigate the unexpected aunt-on-the-ground.
And isn’t that the perfect metaphor for life? Peace, beauty, something fearsome, magic, seemingly at every turn, and then a wholly unanticipated wallop that lays us flat out. We take inventory of the damage (for me, there was none, thank you, my strong German peasant ancestors with your sturdy bones), then we rise, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, and once again work toward finding peace, beauty, something fearsome, and on and on it goes.
Whenever I find myself flat out on a dark road in Georgia (or in the midst of similar WTFery), surprised and thinking “what fresh hell is this?” I remember that I picked it, this life. I chose every aspect of it. Maybe not certainties, but certainly potentialities.
My friend Claudia Milligan’s magical son David, who decided to leave human in his 40s, reported that he was met by excited beings of light upon crossing over. They said to him, “We are so surprised you lasted as long as you did,” and there was much celebration.
Given what *he * had * decided* (see * below) to experience here in this crazy ass horrifying creative joyful painful art studio called Earth-life, he was told, that’s a lot, maybe slow your roll. You’ve got all of eternity to play at this, but nope.
HE was in charge. AND he beat expectations. AND there was no judgment. None.
Understanding that I created and am creating this masterwork story of Lynette doesn’t mean I’m thrilled about it all the time. But given time, given the healing possibilities everywhere present in this life, peace is always possible. I don’t like the losses. I hate the heartbreaks.
AND YET, years out, I am able to find meaning in the hurts, and even discover that there are gifts that come because of them.**
So back to listening. I’m reading a delicious book by Melanie Choukas-Bradley called “The Joy of Forest Bathing.” Apparently forest bathing is a big thing in Japan, and there are even forest bathing guides!
Given what this life is like, the unpredictability, the chaos, all of it, nature can be a solid comfort. Forest bathers know this. I don’t know what’s going to happen today or next week or six months from now, but I do know that there’s an immense, holy, double-trunked tulip poplar in the woods behind my nephew’s house, and going to visit that big beauty, so consistently there, just living its life and radiating love (truly) into the woods around it is big comfort in tough times.
I only went out for a walk, and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in. In every walk with nature, one receives far more than he seeks. John Muir
If you don’t walk with nature, maybe just sit on the porch and listen to her. Our mother is always there, even in the busiest of cities and she will always talk to us if we take the time. She’s in the sound of the wind, the chorus of birds, the buzz of an insect’s wings, even the beat of your own beautiful heart.
What I heard yesterday from wild wind and rain to a froggy chorus that sounded like pure joy? It was a bit of heaven on earth. It is the constant, one of the gifts we were given when we decided to do human again. I hope you’ll go out and listen today, if only for a minute or five. If you allow it, breathe it in, you will come to know that you are so very loved, adored, cherished. It’s true.
*HE chose. It wasn’t punishment, lessons, karma, any that blah blah blah. He decided what he wanted to play with in David Life and he did.
**If you are in fresh grief, just ignore that entire sentence. I know it sounds like madness, pure lunacy, and it’s enraging. Please forgive me.
An Unexpected Mystic 
Thank you for this gorgeousness.
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And thank YOU, for reading, my friend.
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…pure joy reading this ❤️
Glad you weren’t hurt during your exploration of the pavement 🙏🫶
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Truly, my sisters and I always laugh about our big sturdy peasant bones (because we seem to tumble around with some frequency). Thanks for reading, sweet man.
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good German stock here as well !
Our skeletal structure screws up the BMI all the time 😂😂😂
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I am grateful for your insights on L.I.F.E. Lynette – thank you for sharing just a small portion of yourself with us ~ Blessings of peace – JOY – health and ALL things in Abundance!
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Thank you so much for reading Audrilee. Also, love your name. (My sweet mother was Audrey so your comment feels like a little hello from her too.)
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Lynette, thank you for all the comfort you bring, on so many fronts. It makes me feel part of the circle that we all are. xoxo
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Thank you for reading, Jan. YES to feeling part of the circle. We always are. Can’t be any other way. But it doesn’t always feel like it. 🙏🏻
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True, it doesn’t always feel like it, even though we ‘know’ it.
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100%, which is why every time I write about something wonderful, I very much feel that all is not wonderful for all of us, all the time. Trusting, KNOWing that the experiences I’ve had, whether past or right now, are real. That’s what I hang on to in those rough times of feeling disconnected. Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts, Jan.
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Thank you.
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Ooooo. I’ve been forest bathing the last little while. I considered it a walk, but I love the sentiment of forest bathing much more. I might need to adopt that as an incentive to get me out there more often. Loved your story, felt you as you fell and heard the oof! You’re writing is exquisite as always.
Catherine ~
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One of the distinctions of forest bathing is taking time. And isn’t that a spiritual practice in itself? To consider walking in the woods not as exercise or achieving a goal, but just being WITH the heavenly presence of other life, the non-human, everywhere present, realer than real life that surrounds us and is so often overlooked. Thank you for reading, my friend.
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I love you included the video/audios. The sounds are so comforting. Thank you for this reminder. It is the ultimate “centering”. I have a smooth little river rock I keep by my bedside and touch my feet to it each morning and evening. I say hello to my trees and plants. Thank you for the reminder to listen too. Love you, Lynette!
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The sounds are absolutely amazing. This morning, there was a magical voice in the woods that I didn’t recognize. Turns out, it was wood thrush, and it was being answered by cardinal. A duet just for me (and sweet Ivy). I love your rock and the idea of touching it with your feet. Beautiful.
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Wonderful to hear not only your voice but your glorious chuckle that we so miss AND the incredible sounds of nature. I have a frog phobila but loved the sounds of the frog chorus… from a distance!!
We can do forest bathing in the Uk but I prefer to walk in thewoods on my own. I went with a friend, last time and afterwards I received a messag to go back on my own so that could speak to he tree and nature spirits without worrying about who was hearing me.
So glad you didn’t damage yourself..just your dignity!
sending gratitiude, much love and a big hug from Scotlandxx
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Oriole! Yes to being out there on our own. I now have a craving to visit the Japanese forests, but meanwhile, just meandering, seeing, feeling, hearing … taking the time. It’s delicious. Hugs back, my friend.
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Thank you, Lynette. That was a wonderful post. I enjoyed reading, listening, & watching! Warm regards, 💕Kirstie💕
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Thank you so much for reading, Kirstie. ❤️
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Thank you for this delightful post Lynette. You speak directly to my insistence that we are all “Perfectly on Time” in every given moment. When opportunities are presented that open a new portal I’m finally learning to just embrace them and say thank you. Your writing does that for me.
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My stars, how did I miss this lovely comment? Thank you so much for reading and taking the time to write. Perfectly on time. Yes. And ON PURPOSE, just as we are! Nothing to criticize, condemn, shame ourselves for. It’s all for the good, for the joy of it. Bless you.
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Thank you Lynette. Maybe not in this lifetime but hope to meet you some time. You, Bev and Suzanne have brought much comfort after we lost our daughter Kim. She was a beloved sister, wife, mother, aunt and friend to many!! Without messages of hope and the countless hours that you guys and many that share that our loved ones are not gone but still right here, grief would be unbearable. Sending lots of love!!! Pam
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