Those that love nature and wildlife often do so because they find some kind of peace there. It soothes the pressures and pains that weigh on the heart and mind, caused by the day-in-day-out struggles of our lives.
If you're a birdwatcher or filmmaker, you might know that state of being which requires you to exist only in the moment. Watching, quietly and patiently, with awareness of your surroundings; the drip of water or the wind rustling leaves and grasses. But also with an awareness of your own being. Breathing deeply, like in meditation, aware of how your presence and movements send out ripples, affecting the wild and nature about you. How a creak or cough might hit the ear of some small thing you've waited for, and ruin all that patience.
But, even those of us who simply take to paths, traipsing along and watching for what we might see, or spending time in the garden with plants and the birdfeeders, can tell you something of how nature draws us into the now.
For about twelve years, I used to go walking with my dog in the countryside. I don't mind walking by myself but she was the best walking companion I ever had, and I miss our walks together since she's gone.
We went for long, long walks together. She would often explore the path ahead of me, at the end of her extendable lead, with her nose to the ground or up in the air. A sudden noise from hedgerow or the trees, possibly caused by a squirrel, the sighting of which would cause an explosion of excitement, might draw her attention. But she was never allowed off lead to disturb anything that called those hedgerows or treetops home. That's only polite really.
Anyway. She's been gone now since the twentieth of December, 2019. I still miss her. She is, I'm afraid, the dog by which I judge all other dogs.
Monsta. She was my best friend for the duration of all the years that we had together. Photo from personal collection.
Now, when I am able to do so, I walk dogs for a local rescue. Funnily enough, it was because of Monsta that I met the lady who runs that rescue.
When I used to go out walking with Monsta, we would sometimes stop at one of the pet stores in town, where I would buy a treat for her. On one of those occasions, the local rescue with which I would later become better acquainted had a stall set up in that pet store, and I stopped longer to chat with them a while.
It is sort of fine to believe that it was Monsta, my old friend, that brought me into contact with this rescue. It's almost like she introduced me to this rescue before she had to leave.
Some time went by after Monsta's death before I began to walk dogs from this rescue. But I now find a little bit of the joy there that I had with my old friend.
There is a lot of peace and joy in walking with a dog in woods and fields.
Still, a lot of my walking is now done alone. But I'm not sad. I am really quite happy on an isolated country path, surrounded by trees. Happier than I am on a busy town pavement, surrounded by concrete and brick, the smell of takeaway grease on the air rather than the sound of birdsong.
I also find some peace in the garden. The birdfeeders and plant pots are a great source of joy.
The other day, towards the evening, after refilling a feeder, I stopped and watched for a moment. I happened to spot a blue tit, then a great tit, flitting around in the foliage that lines the edges of our small garden. The great tit flew into the feeder I had just filled, picked up one of the suet pellets there, then flitted away into the ivy leaves.
I took my phone from my pocket, opened up the YouTube app, and searched for blue tit calls. And then, after the video started playing, more blue tits appeared than I had thought were there. The sharp sing-song call penetrated the cold winter evening. And the little blue and yellow birds appeared from amidst the leaves of ivy and took to the tops of branches, going from one to another. Where I had thought there was only one before, then there were four, trying to locate the source of the calls I was playing from my phone. They responded with their own singing calls. But, there was only me.
The video lasted only just under a couple of minutes, and I didn't play anything after it ended. I felt bad for disturbing them. But I also enjoyed having interacted with them for a while. It made me smile.
How do you find peace in nature?
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