The Briar Philosopher - Autumn Reflections

The colors of Autumn have been amazing this year, especially in the late evenings just before sunset.  After feeding the critters last night I just stood for a long time and looked at the beauty surrounding me.  The trees themselves seemed to be filled with light and everything was washed in the glow of the sun. It was breathtaking in its splendor and, as is often the case, I found myself breathing a breath of gratitude just to be alive and witness to the beauty of this planet. It is not unusual for me to find myself in the presence of such natural beauty that it brings me to tears with the power of it. I’ll suddenly remember how much bigger all of life is than the little things I have been wallowing around in my head worrying about when I see such wonder and reflect on how long these circles of seasons have been turning.  Some people feel diminished by it all but for me I am reminded of continuation and that my story, while not at big and grand as a November sunset, is a part of all the days that have come before with all their glory and all their wonder. 

I’ve mentioned before that I was very poor growing up. I wonder if it was the fact that I daily witnessed the wonder of nature that I don’t remember feeling poor or miserable most of the time. After we moved to Berea when I was 13 I felt a great deal poorer, though our house was better and warmer and trips to the grocery store were just a few minutes walk across town. Except for the campus, where I spent as much time as possible, the woods were no longer my constant companions. 

While living here in Jackson County there wasn’t a single day that I wasn’t outside and not a single day that I didn’t find something to make me smile and fill me with wonder. I made it a point not to miss a sunset and would often stay outside long after dark just watching the stars come out. I felt connected to the natural world in ways that I never felt connected to the trappings of civilization. 

I have often wondered if our lack of connection to nature these days is responsible for so much of the neurosis and anxiety so many of us face. There are just so many things we have to juggle and I think they all get expanded in our head to the point that it feels like each and every single decision we must make is a life or death situation.  Without those moments of wonder that pull me out of my head and remind me that it is all so much bigger and older and more complex and astonishing than whether or not I mail the electric bill one day late, I might have succumbed to my anxiety long ago. 

Anxiety has always been a part of my life and that’s because trauma was part of my life from the time I was young. My father was an alcoholic and could be violent so everything seemed always on edge and it seemed I had to pay attention to every little detail of everything when he was drinking so as not to make matters worse. Addicts are often irrational in their responses to things so one must walk on eggshells around them.  This created a state of anxiety in me that I still carry to this day. It’s better now. I take some mild medication and I have worked through so much that I understand the challenges he and my mother faced trying to raise us kids and keep body and soul together. They both suffered from trauma from their own childhoods.   I also understand how such addictions can become generational since my own anxiety could easily have led me to addictions of my own had I not found so much balance in the natural world.  A river or a creek would remind me that life flows on and things change. A sunset would tell me that the world kept on turning. The stars spoke of infinite space and billions of possibilities.  The spring sang to me songs of renewal and rebirth and built within me the hope of new things growing from the old.  I always figured if I could keep the seed of myself alive and sane for just a little while longer there would come a day when new things would grow in me as well. I did and they did.  I am one of the lucky ones and my heart breaks for those who get so lost they think they will never see themselves healthy and sane again. 

I would wish for them open eyes, so that they might once again see the wonder and promise all around them and within themselves. I wish for them help and hope. I wish for them the ability to reach out of their fear and despair and I wish for them the chance to find a way to make themselves whole again. I wish for them the breathtaking wonder of an autumn sunset to remind them of their true worth as a child upon this planet. I wish for them the understanding that they as valuable as anyone or anything else and, if they can learn again to see it, they themselves are each a miracle as magical as a sunset or a season turning to spring.