This morning the skies opened up again, and so I drank my coffee black, with a little rain, and wondered where I’d stashed my boots.
I’ve been reading a wonderful blog created by a woman who specializes in life coaching and healing through spiritual strategies that sometimes seem impractical, if not ineffective, due to my personal resistance to exploring a world beyond my own. Still, I’m drawn to the possibility of the existence of spiritual allies as well as the recognition of energy that is present within and outside our physical selves. The blogger describes the influence of the world’s storms of outer energy on our personal ability to cope and to heal in a manner that is easy to relate to and understand.
I’ve always loved a good earth-shaking thunderstorm. The kind that lights up the night with powerful flashes of kinetic electricity, and the lights suddenly go out and everyone scrambles to find matches and candles. I wonder if a tree has been struck and if a green-faced witch will whiz by the window with an evil laugh.
Storms have a way of reminding us that we are not in control, but that we do have choices.
Do we linger outside as harsh winds topple trees? When lightening strikes, do we duck under a tree? Seek shelter? Run?
Do we wait out the storm in refuge or do we cultivate stress by remaining in the eye of the storm, surrounded by forces that limit our vision and space?
Inner chaos resembles outer chaos experienced during a thunderstorm. In the blog written by Harmony Marie Harrison, an intervention for overcoming inner chaos rang especially true to me.
Get out in Nature.
Nature doesn’t take these energetic storms personally. In fact, Nature doesn’t take any storm personally, regardless of how destructive it might be.
Get offline, get some distance from human culture, and feel the wildness of real weather on your skin — the heat of the sun, the spin of the wind, the mud beneath your feet.
This may be the most important thing you could possibly do.
This isn’t hard to do. I live in a city in which parks, river and forest play a starring role. In ninety minutes I can reach the coast by car, or if I head east I can climb a mountain. But more often than not, I work indoors, write indoors, and entertain indoors. Even my runs have felt a bit indoor-ish lately as I run the exact same sidewalked route through my neighborhood.
As a result, I’ve felt stifled in my attempts to be creative at work or at play. I haven’t felt the wind in my hair or white hot sand beneath my feet for what feels like forever. My own inner chaos means nights spent awake instead of sleeping, time spent worrying instead of just being.
Get out in Nature, she wrote.
This weekend I’m heading to the trails for my run. I am eager to greet the quiet of the fire road as it winds through the forest.
I will leave my worries in the woods.
What are your strategies for shaking off the indoor dust?