Closing my eyes as I walk through the forest I savour the precious fall sunlight
streaming through the leaves that linger; ascending trunks and their arching branches
display luminous multi coloured leaves; the whole forest glows hues of red, yellow, and
green. The smell of leaves in the fall is one of my favourite things about nature, the
progression from a crisp warm fragrance to rich fertile earth. It is all so holy. Watching
the subtle changes from week to week is humbling, it’s constant and has nothing to do
with me, and, I am a part of this wonder. Dependant, grateful, and in awe.
Across from my apartment building is a primary school, recess is held in a fenced-in
concrete courtyard, a few ball games are dispersed throughout, there are raised garden
beds along one edge. The children play and run around, the odd soccer ball will
escape the enclosure, and a group rushes to press their bodies against the fence
asking anyone that passes to help them retrieve their ball. The city is replacing the
water pipes along the street that divides the school and my home. As I walked by I
hear a construction worker scolding the children for allegedly attempting to create a
game of fetch, he’s threatening to hold onto the ball, the kids apologize and they get
their ball back. What if the kids were just bored and seeking connection, wanting to gift
play to someone who maybe looked a little bored too.
It’s hard to be bored when you’re surrounded by nature, it’s impossible to be alone.
And yet, we can feel bored and lonely, especially when we don’t understand how to
exist when surrounded by the more than human. All one has to do is breathe and be.
But when every moment is scheduled and we are constantly busy; sometimes we
forget that we are enough; that we are allowed to just exist.
I love mosquitoes, I really do. They get to exist, even if they are irritating to me. Even if
their bites swell and itch with a fury. They feed dragonflies, mystical beings that many
believe carry messages from the dead to the living, myriads of iridescent remembering.
Regardless, mosquitoes are also a part of this wonder. They don’t exist to please us.
It’s this teaching above all else that has earned my respect and love. The natural world
is our ancestors and teachers. Have we forgotten how to listen? Or are we out of
practise, and too busy?
When we practise we remember; we are a part. In the forest I breathe deeply and
visualize the microbes of the decaying leaves and logs filling my lungs, they ensure our
internal ecosystem thrives, boosting immunity and stimulating the release of
neurotransmitters. My gaze softens and my nervous system relaxes. A bird glides to a
neighbouring branch. The bird remembers.
The neon orange bucket hats we ask every child to wear when they are in our care are
recognized by the birds. Before we bring out the sunflower seeds they are beginning to
flock. Teaching the children what qualities the birds require to trust them enough to
land on their hand is profound. Your gaze must be soft, tender, subtle.
Living in a city we can hold so much focus and presence in our eyes, constantly stimulated by things
to lookout for and admire, directing energy with our gaze. The birds will not approach
you if your energy is in your eyes, you have to breath with the trees. The children want
to feed the birds so badly. They are bursting with emotion that is so clearly observed in
their eyes and the movements of their bodies. They Want, but this does not impress
the birds, birds need to feel safe before they will trust. I lead the children through
different energy visualizations, demonstrating posture as I describe what I feel inside.
The first time a bird lands on a child’s hand is transformative. They feel how breakable
and precious the creature is, they are shocked to learn the tiny claws prickle, but aren’t
painful. Holding a whole being in the palm of your hand, one that has chosen to trust
you; the child becomes consciously aware of the power and reasonability of their
energy and gaze. They remember.
You are invited to enroll your child(ren), ages 4 - 12 years of age to join us for any Friday during the Autumnal season to slow down, practise and connect. Please register here.
Drop-ins are always welcomed!
**Registration will close each Wednesday at 11:59pm before the following Friday.
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