Tag: Nature’s Beauty

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

I find this poem to be deeply comforting, inspiring and liberating. It addresses the human instinctual need to belong. Our separation from nature and from one another is an illusion fed to us by superficial society and the modern world where physical boundaries as well as narrow social criteria define, judge and restrict our sense of being. This unnatural fabrication of separateness has resulted in devastating feelings of alienation and loneliness.

In a higher reality, we, each and all, belong with one another and in creation. Here, the wild geese call to us to let our imagination soar beyond the low-grade, cliché understanding of civilized society to claim our rightful space in the created world.

Poem’s source: Poet Seers » Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

The Summer Day by Mary Oliver

This is one of my favorite poems by Mary Oliver (1935-2019), an American Pulitzer Prize winning poet. In The Summer Day, she guides us to notice some of the smallest details in nature while asking us the biggest, deepest and most important questions concerning our existence. Here, the micro and macro visions of life blend perfectly.

This poem came from the Library of Congress website: The Summer Day | Library of Congress

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

Early fall in the natural world

In early fall, one of my small pleasures is to go out on the lake in the early morning right before sunrise to look at the congregation of ducks, geese and swans on a small, newly-emerged island near our shore. They usually scatter when they see or sense me coming near. Once a heron took off into the foggy mist as I approached, and the vision of those grey, graceful wings flapping and disappearing into the foggy shadow floored me to the ground in awe. There was something a little eerie about that whole scene which could be used as a portentous setting for a Stephen King novel.

Right after that brief eerie moment, the sun started lighting up the sky and then proceeded to touch the treetops.

At the Stillwater Scenic Trail, walkers enjoy witnessing the trees turning yellow on the walking trail and many trees around the lake turning red.

In mid-September, the transformation was at its early stages:

Now in almost mid-October, the autumnal transformation is nearly in full swing:

Our lake in summer

Almost every morning this summer, whenever opening the bedroom window upon waking up, I would look out on the left to Georgiaville lake. Due to the obstruction of the many trees in their thickest summer foliage, I would usually be able to see only a small surface of the lake, but any glimmer of the water reflecting the morning sunlight or even of just ripples under an overcast sky would send me the signal that another day has begun. After my bathroom routine, I would then proceed to go downstairs to look at a bigger portion of the lake surface straight ahead from our small balcony and would soak in the view. Our lake has an almost daily visitor that has never failed to enthrall me: a misty ghost crawling, curling and swirling on the water.

Here is the ghostly mist in action in July:

Here it is again in August:

When J2 started school in late August, we would have to get up at 6am and get him to the bus stop around 6:45am. After dropping off J2, I would get back home to a quiet neighborhood in the cool morning air. I would sit in our little garden to soak in the quietness and enjoy the solitude. Then I would walk down to the lake to just be there by myself.

Spring blooms

I have been obsessed with weather news lately. My own experiences living my life and observing the shifting moods of other people according to weather events have led me to believe that human beings’ emotions and behaviors are more fundamentally affected by climatic elements than we are aware of or are willing to admit. I started thinking about how weather phenomena affect our bodies, emotions, psyche and life activities 20 and a half years ago in Missouri, USA, when I went to the hospital to give birth to J1. The nurses there told us of a curious phenomenon being that many women would go into labor during snowstorms. I myself notice that there are usually more ambulances rushing on the street whenever there are inclement weather events such as heatwave, thunderstorm or snowstorm.

I especially noticed weather’s effects on people’s health and emotions while living in Kentucky where summer is hot and humid and winter is usually unpredictable. During summer in Kentucky, the atmosphere always feels heavy due to the oppressive high humidity, and the people themselves would look heavier in their bodies as well as appear to be in a bad mood. The air would feel thick like transparent soup and the community would suffer a health slump. All my health problems leading to anxiety and depression started during summer 2018 during such a collective health decline. The summer mood of people in Kentucky would always correspond with the weather which would usually be stale and stagnant.

Along the same vein of how weather controls human health, emotions and behaviors, earlier this year, as the winter cold gradually gave way to a warmer spring feel in the air, the heavy burden of my marriage crisis started feeling lighter on my heart and mind. As the trees and flowers started coming back to life, D and I both felt that our relational wounds were on the mend.

As the sunshine became stronger and nature resurrected, we started doing what we do best: walking together hand in hand to witness the beauty of nature around us. We walked together on our lake trail to see the pine trees coming back to life and the saplings pushing their ways upwards through the earth. We took longer walks around our neighborhood and area to notice the budding of wildflowers or the flowering of plants in people’s gardens. In this area, spring showed off such exquisite flowers as peonies, rhododendrons, azaleas, irises and some others.

We especially took a delight in noting the budding and flowering in and around our own little garden.