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Reflections from Roxanne Howe-Murphy
I just returned from an after-dinner hike in the hills behind my
house. I live steps away from the Pacific Ocean, and was taking in one of those
precious evenings when the marine layer stayed on the horizon (How’s this for
having perspective? When seen from ABOVE, incoming clouds from the Pacific are
called a “marine layer,” in meteorology-speak. And when experienced from BELOW,
on the ground where most of us humans live, those same clouds are called FOG!
Don’t you love it?).
Back to the hike-- The sun was inches from setting and the fresh coastal air
enlivened my body. My thighs still felt some stinging from the steep climb I had
just made, my heart was making itself known, both from the aerobics, and from
being full of gratitude.
Then, in the midst of the quiet, a raucous, squawking noise pealed out. I looked
up and saw it. There in all of its splendor, fully-spread wings creating a
beautiful black profile—banking left, gliding, then banking deeply to the right,
was an “ordinary” crow playing in the sky. Every 20-30 seconds, it belted out
its discordant voice. It was being in its own fullness of life.
In that moment, I laughed out loud. It occurred to me that (as far as I know)
the crow didn’t think about whether it had the right to squawk, it didn’t
second-guess itself, it didn’t judge itself, it didn’t question what would
happen after it was done playing, and it certainly didn’t need to give itself
‘permission’ to express itself. It just did what healthy crows do. We could look
to any aspect of nature, and see this capacity for “being what it is possible to
be” played out in every blade of grass, in every tree, plant and flower, in
every non-human species, and in the cycles of the year. Of course, we could
argue that (again, as far as we know), most aspects of nature don’t have the
human capacity to think and reflect, so how can we compare ourselves? Yet, it is
hard for me to deny that the crow drew from a source of natural intelligence
that doesn’t require the quality of mind that most of us are only too familiar
with—the busy, over-activated, judging mind.
What if the caterpillar decided not to use its natural intelligence and weave
its cocoon because it doesn’t know what will happen afterward? Its metamorphosis
would be short-circuited and incomplete. In fear, it would not become what it
was meant to be.
Oh, the pain we humans suffer when we are disconnected from our own true nature.
“My true nature”—the soul’s yearning to know itself. This is what many of
us seek from our earliest years. In midlife, the importance of re-establishing
our connection to the deep, rich inner dimensions of life is heightened. The
stakes are too high to ignore this calling to be who and what it is possible to
be.
And nature is a wonderful teacher.
What about your experience?
What has been your experience in following your own natural intelligence so that
you could express yourself with fulfillment and an inner freedom? In what ways
have you experienced a short-circuiting to what you most would love in and from
life?
Midlife is a potent time to explore what keeps you distanced from your natural
intelligence and to experience what inspires and enlivens you. The grand journey
of midlife allows you to connect to deep levels of innate intelligence, and
experience the fullness of your life and the grace of your soul.
I would recommend reserving some time in the next week or two to be in nature to observe and
experience the intelligence that is showing itself everywhere. It can be both
humbling and exhilarating to acknowledge the teachings and wisdom that surround
us.
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