I have been a city dweller for twenty five years. Now I am living outside of Toronto, Canada for about four months and witnessing my first spring here. I feel like a child discovering a new land. I remember when little, observing nature’s change of seasons on the west coast of Canada, specifically Vancouver Island where giant trees live. The ants would climb over unopened buds of peonies, tall trees reached toward the sky and blocked out the sun, pansies nodded from the garden. I observed these rhythms and openings of energy intently. Nature has always provided a safe cocoon in which to explore my imagination and to navigate difficult times.
Nature has inspired some of the world’s most beloved poets; Walt Whitman, John Keats, Pablo Neruda and in more recent times Mary Oliver.
Heron rises from the dark summer pond
“So heavy,
with its long -necked, long-bodied heron,
always it is a surprise
when her smoke-colored wings
open
and she turns
from the thick water,
from the black sticks
of a summer pond,
and slowly
rises into the air
and is gone.” (from Mary Oliver’s book of poetry What do we Know)
Mother Earth waits patiently, rises to meet us slowly and take us in her arms to heal us. With this healing comes inspiration and deliverance from the doldrums, if we allow it. Sometimes I feel the reason people are so riddled with physical, emotional and mental health problems is they have cut off their connection with Mother Earth. If we would only allow her in.
Many years ago I was visiting my parents on Vancouver Island; they had recently moved and retired out there and I was in my late thirties at the time. I was a baby clairvoyant, but I didn’t know it yet; I had not yet started working with people. I had yet another tumultuous visit with my parents mostly my mother and many memories had been stirred up, especially from my time on the island when very young. I left my mother at the dock, got on board the ferry to go over to the mainland, and started crying uncontrollably. I literally could not stop, I looked over the edge of the boat to the sunlight sparkling on the water, how beautiful. Suddenly a loud and commanding voice from the ocean spoke to me, “She is not your mother, I am your mother!” Wow! I still cried all the way to the mainland because I had to to, mourn the loss of a mother I needed but never had. I had to let go of my neediness toward her and see her as a human being, separate from myself. It took me a while to “get that”, lesson.
Every time I connect with her “majesty” mother earth, in all her power and magnificence, I reclaim a little of myself; and I am thankful.
Thank you my mother the Earth and thank you Creator for my life.
Lorraine Hughes © 2012
