The art of not getting there:sanctuary in observation

After a particularly traumatic season in my life, I intuitively started reserving one weekend day to simply leave town and find nature. I am incredibly lucky to live in a place surrounded by beautiful trees, rushing waterfalls, and seemingly endless trails. These journeys became my vital medicine; they were less about "getting to the summit" and more about getting into the quiet, green current of the world.

I know not everyone has these vast natural resources, or the time and financial resources to leave town every week like I did. But the deep, restorative practice I honed out there in the forest, the practice of slow observation, is completely transferable.

The truth is, the magic isn't about the location; it’s about the attention we bring. So, let's bring the healing practice I used deep in the woods right down to a simple neighborhood walk, or even to a few moments in a backyard or city park.

Embracing the Messy, Magical Season

I actually encourage you to try this when the weather is less than perfect—during the "shoulder seasons." Initially I thought I would have to stop my explorations as the weather shifted and I did have some truly rainy hikes, but more often than not, I would find there were pockets of clearing, and unexpected windows of light.

And here’s the secret: those iffy shoulder seasons were the most private. I got to wander these magical landscapes largely alone. I had a lot to process at the time, so I would go over things in my mind, and then, slowly, I'd notice something. Something like the way the water dripped off moss, or how the wet mud smelled, or how vibrant the colors of green became in an overcast day. I was pulled out of my rumination and into the present moment in the most gentle of ways.

The Power of "Not Getting Somewhere"

At the time, my health stopped me from being able to move like I used to. I couldn't push myself, and honestly, I couldn't get very far. I was forced to take these moments as gentle strolls, slow walks. Sometimes I'd sit and rest. Sometimes I'd only go a little ways.

I found little treasures: tiny mushrooms, or chalky, lace like lichen covering a branch. The occasional slug or worm would catch my eye. I found the little moments in between because I stopped trying to achieve a destination.

Finding Comfort in the Cycle

There were moments when I’d feel sadness for myself and my current state of health, but as soon as my attention turned back to nature, it just felt like what was happening made sense.

I saw the creation and destruction in every inch of nature, and it profoundly comforted me. I realized I was part of the same cycle: the breakdown, the blooming, the storms, the sunlight. It was all there for me to see. Nature doesn't judge its own cycles, and neither should we.

Let Your Eyes Wander and Wonder

As you stroll through your chosen environment, I encourage you to truly look at what’s right in front of you.

• Wonder at the miracle of that little flower growing up through the cracks in the pavement.

• Notice that tree in the neighbor's yard, the one you've walked by a million times, and see the pattern in the bark.

• Get down on the ground to see those miniature flowers growing in the grass that make it look like a fairy land.

• Look up into the leaves or branches above you. See the web of life and the cycle of it all around you.

It is a marvel, and I am so grateful we are here to witness it. From city park to mountain trail, from fall to spring, let those eyes wander and see the magic and miracles right in front of you.

And here's the final, vital step: Don't forget to say out loud, "Wow!" or "So beautiful!" or "So cool!" Because when we truly see, we bless ourselves with a reality that lives in magic, wonder, and deep, quiet healing.