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Mindful by Nature: Pause and Presence

Mindful by Nature
Pause and Presence
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Notes

table of contents
  1. Acknowledgments
  2. Note from the Authors
  3. Part I. Grounding
    1. Baseline
    2. Seeing the Unseen
    3. Perspective
    4. The Essential Question
    5. Blind Spots
    6. Listening to the Birds
    7. Fox Walking
  4. Part II. Deep Listening
    1. Matches in the Dark
    2. Uncertainty
    3. Pause and Presence
    4. Snow in Spring
    5. On Birch Bark Peeling
    6. Tracking Self
    7. The Earth Is Happy to Remind You to Be Mindful
  5. Part III. Leaning In
    1. Lost in Thought
    2. Concentric Rings
    3. Natural Navigation
    4. Is It True?
    5. Footprints of the Sun
    6. Go a Different Way
  6. Part IV. Wise Action
    1. Intention
    2. Walking with Coyotes
    3. Connection, Intention, and Attention
    4. Being Sensible
    5. I Looked
    6. The Curse and Blessing of the Tracker
    7. Going the Right Speed
  7. Part V. Coming Home
    1. Remembering the Sacred
    2. Tracking and Stories
    3. Exploring the Edges
    4. Harvesting Stories
    5. Mourning
  8. Afterword
  9. Notes
  10. Further Reading

Pause and Presence

Growing up, I volunteered for a local music festival called Grass Roots and one year found myself mowing paths and tent sites in a large field. One day, after hours of hearing nothing but the drone of the tractor mower, I turned the engine off and was startled by the contrast. I found myself transported from being confined and isolated in a sound blanket to an open stillness. I had started with no more agenda than a simple intention to take a break, but I found myself suddenly in a deep moment of presence and connection to life. The world around me was still and so was my mind. Looking out over the fields, I could see the wind as it danced through the tops of the grasses flowing almost like a river. It swooped and swerved, reminding me of one of those giant flocks of starlings moving across the sky, unbelievable and unpredictable. Shadows and silver light traced the wind’s path as the sun reflected off the wind-swept grass. I felt the wind, I felt my breath, there was no separation, only the experience of the earth breathing. A long breath in with the wind and the grass would move this way … A long breath out and the grass swayed that way.

Many times since then I have felt the life force of this planet moving through me. Just as the waves that rise from the ocean are still connected to, and part of, the depths of the ocean, we humans are also part of Earth energy and not separate from it. In a very real way, our bodies are made from it. Each life sustaining breath is drawn from the air created by the trees and plants around us. In our bones are the minerals drawn from the land, and in our blood and tears is the salt water of the oceans. To feel this, to experience that level of connection, we do not need to do anything. Instead, we simply can allow ourselves to remember, to wake up from a dream and to feel what is already here. Turn off the tractor and just be.

Try: Leave your phone behind and find a place in nature, under a tree, in a field, or by a stream perhaps. Give yourself the gift of presence. Clear an afternoon and let yourself take minutes or hours to simply be without the need to worry about the passage of time. Close your eyes as you sit and feel in your body the physical contact with the earth, the park bench. Feel in your body the rising and passing of all sensations: the sound of water, the feel of the wind, the warmth of the sun on your skin. If you are in a city or urban area, let the sounds of people and traffic wash over and through you as well. Give space to simply be present as the moments unfold and to reflect on your connection to all things. You may reflect on being seen, heard, held, and loved by the Earth itself. You may experiment with offering your own love and gratitude for life back to the Earth. When you get home or just before you leave, try doing some written reflections on what you noticed.

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