Quiet Joys
June 30, 2024
Quiet joys. A cool morning as the summer heats up with mist rising from the water. A glimpse of a fisherman through the trees, like a secret window into another world. A titmouse flitting quietly through the trees, no longer singing the spring mating song but busy at work feeding a family.
Small bees move among the blooms of the water willow, gathering every last bit of pollen they can find. Tiny wings produce flashes of gold as the sunlight hits them in motion. Those same wings look like stained glass windows when the bee briefly lands.
A five-lined skink pops up on a log just for a moment. Long enough to notice her stripes and those feet that look like human hands with very long fingers. This is the first time I have seen a skink at the lake though they must be abundant here. Some creatures are only seen when they want to be.
Tiny damselflies dart in and out of the water willow and I try to catch them in the air. I’ve never been successful before, but today is my lucky day! I once wanted all of my photos to be “sharp”. Now I delight in the blur of motion with the softness it displays. Wings are a great reminder of the power of soft.
Watching the damselflies I notice the slight differences in color on their body and head. Stream bluets are nearly neon while powdered dancers are more muted. Looking through my camera I see the tiny hairs on their feet, body, and head. The closer I look, the more I see. One of my favorite truth’s about the natural world is that every time we look closer we see more complexity. Nothing in nature is one color, one texture, or one part. Everything is a multitude.
Bees also come in many color and size variations. Neon green sweat bees flit in and out of the chicory in between the much bigger carpenter bees. Each bee is transporting pollen, playing their part in the ecosystem.
I am longing for quiet, yet I know we are entering a time of noise. For many years I have dreaded this period, the days before and after Fourth of July when the humans here are setting off fireworks. I am grateful for the Loop Quiet earplugs I discovered last year which have made a huge difference for sleep. Yet I’d like to approach this time with less resistance. I’d like to find a way to welcome it with softness rather than steeling against it.
This week I intend to sit with the feeling and sensations that arise when the fireworks start, at least for a few minutes. I’m trying to approach it with curiosity and view it like a game. What might happen if I can be with it, even for a minute? What easter eggs might be hidden in this portion of the game?
I’ve been learning a qigong breathing practice that includes a breath hold on the exhale. Initially, I could only hold my breath for 10-15 seconds. Two days ago, I discovered I could wait through the discomfort in the 10-20 second range. After that period, my body relaxed and I could hold my breath for almost a minute without struggle. Could the uncomfortable sensations of the fireworks be the same way? Could there be peace waiting for me if I could sit in that discomfort just a little longer?
I want to be able to welcome life - all of life - and not lose days or weeks or even minutes trying to skip ahead or “just get through it”. The wisdom teachers all tell us the path to peace goes through the discomfort rather than around it. This is a chance to practice.
I learned that if I sat quietly in nature, beauty would appear. Let’s see what happens if I can apply that lesson in a new way.
Wishing you all quiet joys in the week ahead.
As a sufferer of PSTD, I found this post immensely helpful and supportive. I, too, struggle with bright lights, loud noises and anything that triggers my startle response. I agree that learning to sit with something and breathe through it helps with feelings of vulnerability and resistance to that vulnerability. I would love to recapture some of the childlike awe, wonder, and joy of July 4th fireworks that I had BT (Before Trauma). Thanks for giving me a shot of courage to do so.
Beautiful images Karen. I especially love that photo of the Stream Bluet Damselfly - such a great image.
I couldn't agree more this line: "My time in nature shows me easter eggs are everywhere." So true.