Everywhere we go, the world is alive; every part of it is alive. When I sit in nature, I notice unique characteristics of the trees, the hills, the water and the sky. Erosion and weather sculpt the land, creating shapes and contours that are special to that particular place. The trees are alive, the light dances on every surface, defining shadows and highlights. I sense that there are no sharp edges. The light and shadows distinctly reveal the patterns of the place.
I experience the landscape. I listen. I feel the wind. I breathe deep and smell the plants and resins, the ozone in the air. I touch rocks with my hands. All my senses are engaged.
My first experience in a landscape is with my hands free. My bag holds a light wrap in case the weather turns, and a hat. I have a sense of balance, being centered within myself, focused on the immediate moment. My spirit lightens, like a weight is being lifted. I feel the earth beneath my feet, hear the skritch of leaves and the trill of birds. I feel the uneven ground. In this moment, I have everything that I need.
I walk along the track, until I come to a vista that speaks to me. I stop in a clearing or continue along the path. Sooner or later, I step off the path and ramble into the wilder places. I grew up in Australia and carry a stick. Sticks are useful for turning over stones and balancing in rocky areas. They are also useful to wield at an angle to avoid overhead webs, small branches and the like. Terry Pratchett wrote an article about Australians always carrying a stick; it’s good advice.
When I reach a place that looks or feels interesting, I find somewhere to sit. It could be a rock, hummock, the side of a wall, or on a grassy verge. I sit there for a while, gently looking at the scenery, breathing the scent of the place. I experience it with my senses. I ask what speaks to me. I listen with all my senses, free of assumptions. And I breathe with the place. Breathing in and out, first I listen, and second I try to make a connection. Connection happens when I surrender. I reach out, and I let the energies in, like breathing. I hum a little, making a wordless chant, harmonizing my energies with the place. Simple things to do.
When I’ve sat there for a while, I start to notice things. Any animals have stopped reacting to me, and the butterflies and birds resume their activities. I’ve had time to notice how the place makes me feel. This differs from my first, usually visual, interest in the patterns I can see. Feeling arises from desire for connection, from allowing an experience to arise from more than sight. It is at this point that I start to think about making a pencil sketch. If I have a camera with me, I will take a reference image or two. I won’t move. It’s important to be still because I’ve come to know this specific spot a little. The invisible presence of the place has been made known to me.
When I sit in nature like this, often the birds get curious and they come quite close. Sometimes it feels like they are dancing in the sky to show me their ways. Quirky, I know, but that’s how it feels.
While the trees don’t move their roots, it feels like their branches dance in the breeze. One, then another, shows itself to me, almost like they are saying “hi, you there.” I look at the sky, at the quality of the light, at the shimmer of air.
I am an artist, so I sometimes take a pencil and drawing tablet with me. At first, I leave it in my bag. I carry a water bottle, a drawing pad, pencils, and a tiny watercolor palette. I also have my camera in my phone; I use it to take reference images for later. Documenting a place, though, should not get in the way of experiencing it. I feel like the urge to create a memory by painting a landscape is a creative meditation. A friend asked if this interfered with connecting. For me, looking at something with an artist’s eye is one way of making a connection.
The world feels alive, animated by what I call spirit, intelligence, numen or energy. Others say life force, or ‘the force’. I talk about spirit, and that means, to me, the sentience or soul of the world. It is also the local energy, or more specifically, the little voice of a river, or a particularly energetic rock. I feel the energy of a place along my skin, as a hum or tone that I can hear.
Sometimes I gather a weathered piece of driftwood if one presents itself for my attention. Flower petals come home with me too. A leaf, a feather, maybe a piece of sea-smoothed glass. I walk along the beach and listen to the world.
I am a bit of a mystic. Sometimes, I get the sense that a place is talking to me. It whispers messages or tells me where to look next. The wind doesn’t talk much, but it plays with my hair, flirting. Wisps of breeze feel like they are giggling, or gossiping. If I listen closely, the breezes will tell me where they have been, and what they found there.
If an animal or bird wanders close, I like to think that is a more specific message. Clouds can reveal a figure, a mythical beast, or a picture of a place or person. Once, I was on the far western shore of the United States. It was on Rialto beach during a snow storm. There was a red dragon across the sky in the clouds. This sign told me that I could make my home there, in that land. Dragon clouds are like that, for me, messengers and heralds of the ancient places. I stayed in Seattle for over 30 years. The red dragon in the sky spoke to me of the passion and love I would find there. I experienced love in that place for a long, long time. My best friends still live there. That last winter solstice in Seattle found me out on the Western shore again, saying my goodbyes. The river of red for the sea dragon was on the sand this time, at sunset. It told me that it was time to go.
What are some of the ways that you connect with places? Is there something special that you do to say ‘hello’? Are there omens you have noticed? Messages that told you it is time to start, or stop doing something in your life? Is it time to move house, change situation, to make something as an offering to the gods? Is it time to honor yourself, to heal, or to find peace? I have found all these things in nature, in my special places. Have you?
I find myself returning to the places of my childhood, my first special places. The light and shadows welcome me home to Australia, to the South Coast of New South Wales. The waves and wind flirt with me and invite me in. The serpent, who lives in both the land and sky, curls around and through me. Magic calls, and I know myself to be made from this earth.