The divinity in nature
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The divinity in nature
I have lived on a small piece of land in the country for the last eighteen years, with several windows in my home overlooking the paddocks and the tree-studded land around us that rolls gently away to the west. Daily from these windows, I have observed so much and in doing so, I have been a witness to what can only be named as the divinity in nature, that after many years in this life, I have come to realise always reflects the divinity in me.
The incredible sunsets that often light up the sky and the surrounding land at the end of the day with a palette of colours so grand that it is not breath-taking but breath-giving; the sun moving in its fiery-ness from one side of the land to the other as the cycles of the seasons incrementally change, from spring to summer, autumn to winter and back around again, each season marked by the place in the sky of this ball of fire that we cannot live without on this planet. The divine rhythms of the Universe in full view.
I have been the constant observer of rainbows so huge and wide that it is often impossible to capture the width and the height of them within the lens of a camera, observing with the realisation, that as their sheer magnificence slowly fades the rain will arrive, bringing the cleansing the land obviously needs in that moment. The sheep and the alpacas, our resident lawnmowers that have grazed the paddocks over the years, have offered me daily lessons on their relationships with each other, with the land and with the seasons. The rabbits that bring a smile to my face as they weave their way in and out of many parts of the property, often playing with each other while having what seems to be unreserved fun. What a beautiful reflection that is, a reminder to bring more fun into my life, when life has become too serious.
And then there is the multitude of birds of all shapes, sizes, colours and wing movements, from pheasants to sparrows, doves and finches and the delicate swallows that swoop and soar with so much joy that to stop and observe them is all you can do in that moment. And as you do, the chances are that these angelic birds that grace the sky with the lightest of movements, will swoop down as close to you as possible and then soar away for another circuit of the land and then you, once again. The lightness of their movements feels so God-like and when they stop for a moment to rest on the power line that crosses the property, the smallness of their colourful bodies belies the grand movements that you have just borne witness to. When my grandchildren were little, we would lay back on the grass when the swallows were in full flying mode, especially when the babies were spreading their wings. They would fly so close to us that the children would shriek with joy, willing them to return over and over again, which they often obliged. They have become, to me, God’s messengers, spreading the joy and the love that they are, especially in the moments when that is absent.
The grazing animals may come and go, the birds’ presence will wax and wane, and the seasons will inevitably complete, and with the completion, the rhythm of the animals, as well as mine, will change and deepen. Some seasons offering a more reposeful way of living and others lifting us up with the feeling that there is much to attend to.
On this small piece of land, I have observed so much change in what I see from my windows but also from what I have observed within me. Moving onto this land, I was what the locals refer to as a ‘townie’ who had always harboured the wish to live in the country. I was as ‘green’ as the grass around me, a novice when it came to caring for animals and learning to let go of any holding on to them, especially with any sympathy, when their life was coming to an end. I came to slowly realise there was always a purpose for them leaving when and how they did, as it was their evolution to embrace and my job was simply to support them.
My connection to nature was always there and before the land became my home, but my connection with it has grown exponentially, and with it my connection to God, as I see the loving touch of God’s hand in every movement of every animal and every bird, in the continual movement of the Sun and the Moon, the changes in the seasons, from the tiny green shoots of spring to the carpet of golden-coloured leaves that spreads itself over our gardens, announcing the arrival of autumn as it does. There is purpose in everything, as all of nature responds to what I have come to know as God’s plan, a plan so grand that we cannot but be humbled by it, a plan that we are all held within.
Amongst all the changes, there has been one constant presence on this land and in the sky above, and that is the presence of the magnificent hawk that flies over and around us many times during the day, looking for its next meal. I do not know whether it is the same hawk that I first saw eighteen years ago, but the grandness of its presence is definitely the same. There are moments when it feels like the guardian of the land, and as much as I am observing it, it is endlessly casting its astute eyes over the land and all that is unfolding below. The magnificence of its seemingly effortless movements through the sky, even when it is very windy, always calls for a stop moment and a few minutes of observation, watching it soar with hardly a movement of its very wide wings. And there are times when it simply hovers, alert, always watching, ready to dive down to a tree or onto the land in any moment.
Nothing seems to interfere with its endless rhythm, even when the pathetically screeching plovers fly at it and around it – always in a pack – trying to keep it away from their nests, which, inexplicably – to me – are built on the ground, in the open. But their discordant display achieves nothing; this magnificent bird gives them nothing, simply keeping focused on its rhythm. It doesn’t try to fly away, simply stays steady, until they give up, exhausted by their wasted efforts. It is always a reminder to me to stay in this steadfastness when life around me is exploding with craziness, when there is constant plover-like screeching chatter in my head trying to take me away from what is truly next. I have discovered that if I stay as steady as the hawk in these moments, the chatter, like the plovers, will also drop away and I can continue my movements, just as the hawk does.
All that I have observed over the years clearly reflects the exquisite divinity that is all around us in our daily lives, and the richness and grandeur of nature that greets us at every turn. We may be in the city, surrounded by concrete and glass but an upward tilt of the head towards the sky will connect us to the beauty that we are never without. It is also a reminder to not leave this divinity and grandness ‘out there,’ separate from us, but to realise that this same divinity and grandness is what we innately are, and when we move from this divinity, each footstep echoes with its grace.
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