Delighting in the Touch of Nature

"Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair." (Kahil Gibran, 1883-1931)

I'm reading (and would certainly recommend!) two books now that have reminded me of how we have become technologically entranced and forgetful of the touch of nature. The first book is: "Deep Down Things: The Earth in Celebration and Dismay" by Lin Jensen, and the second is: "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek" by Annie Dillard. Both are well-written in a lyrical and quite literate sense and resonate easily with me.

The Kahil Gibran quote - which I've always loved - was buried under the dross of unaware living. It took a little reflection to realize what I had lost! It happened when I realized I had not touched 'real' nature in a full week. I was suddenly aware that beginning on Monday (and for an entire week!) I left the house, walked down the sidewalk, got into my car, drove to work, parked, walked on asphalt and concrete to my office, walked around downtown during the day, got back into my car, drove home, walked on the sidewalk and back into the house without once ever touching anything of the natural world! Not a leaf, a blade of grass, dirt, tree-bark...anything! Only constructed and manufactured artificiality.

It was a most visceral uncomfortableness. I could rationalize it of course by saying I was working and being quite productive in the materialistic sense. But I had lost the true sense of connectedness with what is really important: the inter-being with life in all its delightful forms.

So, although it may seem silly, while it was still pre-dawn dark at home I deliberately touched and examined the leaves on two houseplants - a peace lily and a palm - and felt the dirt of the soil in the pots and let the dirt fall from my fingers. It was a fascinating feeling to connect to something that I so easily ignored and overlooked in my daily busy-ness.

Later, my son and I took our dog for a walk around Mary Lake. It was very cold and had there been enough moisture it would probably have snowed. While the concrete footpath provided stable footing, I deliberately walked on the dirt and meandered through the oaks and grasses. The smallest blade of grass and the largest oak were alive with a numinous sense of inter-being with me, my son, and the dog.

We forget so easily, don't we?

Namaste'