Better than any mirror | See yourself reflected in nature

January 19, 2024

I recently read that there’s a reason why we are drawn to gazing at the ocean. It’s not only the raw beauty, the crashing of the waves, the explosion of ions which elevate the mood, nor the sheer immensity before us. It’s because our attention is held by what we know.

It’s said it provides a closer reflection of who we are, more than any mirror.

When you know it’s true

Up until then, I’d never heard it articulated quite like that; the quest for one’s being, the ability to recognize oneself in a disembodied form. Yet I knew upon reading it, that it was true. How easily I have sat, content, my gaze transfixed upon the immensity of the sea. Words? There needn’t be. When I look at the vastness of a star filled sky, the Sandia mountains aglow with its bands of feldspar at sunset, or a large gnarled tree I see the same qualities, elements, and energies of my shared aliveness and I’m humbled.

As a kid I’d sit out on the deck with my dad watching the sunset. A ritual of pleasure, you could call it a pastime, he’d always seem to make time for.

Look at how the trees sway and rock with the wind, he’d say. They are strong, rooted, upright, yet move easily and gracefully with the wind. They don’t resist or push. You’re just like them, you know. Strong, resilient, soft, always changing.

Being the engineer he was, he’d go on to say that the force it’d take to break them would be tremendous and potentially violent (violent by our human definitions because I really don’t believe nature is malicious, rather a teacher of neutrality). He’d take every opportunity to explore these ideas and the beauty he found with me. I was eager to know, comfortable listening, and always watching. All those drives we would take from the Bay Area up into the Sierras and then over into Nevada to visit family would be an opportunity to take in the woods, the meadows, and the wildflowers. Look at that…what do you think this means….isn’t it interesting that flowers here are so delicate? From him I learned the power of observation, of stillness, and of presence. I’ve come to know and understand aspects of myself from my surroundings.

I could look outside my window right now and say everything is dead or dormant. And leave it at that. How winter appears so bleak, cold, and miserable. Yet I’d be missing what a sleeping landscape can reveal. What is happening in an unobservable subterranean world? What is happening in the depth of my being?

Here’s the thing, when I look outside I’m reminded that everything has a particular life cycle. I’m able to witness one moment in a dynamic time thread, the beginning or end of which I cannot see because it doesn’t even exist. Some things may return, others may not. In observing what is, I expand my own ability to embrace decay, ephemeralness, silence, and rest. I shed layers and follow a heavy stable force which moves deep deep down. At some point, later on, taking its queue from shorter nights and warmer soil, there will be change.

Tell me, what do you see outside?

How does it reflect the truth of who you are?

Yours, Erin