Lately, I have been reminded again just how much we need to contemplate nature. Without it, humanity is somewhat prone to losing our collective head.

We have recently seen the most ludicrous acts of violence, abuses of power and truly bizarre attempts at reasoning. It is distressing and it must be confronted. This, combined with all the inane but consuming demands of modern life and culture, exhausts and depresses us. Civilisation sometimes robs us of the best parts of being human.

It is so often nature that makes us slow down enough to see sense. Nature can help us to realise that there are different kinds of knowing, that consumption can starve us, that kindness and patience can help us to reconnect with the innate goodness in the natural world.

I am currently reading The Elegance of the Hedgehog, by Muriel Barbary. In it, Renee and Paloma both seek meaning and beauty in life, finding it in Japanese cinema and poetry.

Paloma has a conversation with their Japanese, film-maker neighbour, and it makes her think:

“There’s so much humanity in our love of trees, so much nostalgia for our first sense of wonder, so much power in just feeling our own insignificance when surrounded by nature… yes, that’s it: just thinking about trees and their indifferent majesty and our love for them teaches us how ridiculous we are… and at the same time how deserving of life we can be, when we honour this beauty that owes us nothing. Kakuro was talking about birch trees and… I suddenly felt my spirit expand, for I was capable of grasping the utter beauty of trees.”

Meanwhile, Renee has been to see one of his films, and is having similar reflections:

“The camelia against the moss of the temple, the violet hues of the Kyoto mountains, a blue porcelain cup – this sudden flowering of pure beauty at the heart of ephemeral passion: is this not something we all aspire to? … The contemplation of eternity within the very movement of life.”

Both Renee and Paloma seek out this natural beauty and simplicity as they struggle against the pretensions and power struggles of their culture and those living around them.

And meanwhile, in my little corner of the ‘real’ world, I read poetry on Substack and write haikus about the countryside and the animals in and around my home, and I get outside often. It all serves to give me some solace and hope as my spirit pushes back against the dismal headlines.

Yesterday, I wrote a poem about the moon and cherry blossom. Today, I spent some time taking care of our goats. I have put off the other jobs on my to do list and now I sit, listening to the rain, writing, with the dog and a cat sleeping beside me. Although there will be different kinds of work to do later, and tomorrow, and although the madness of the world still rages on, something in me tells me I have chosen well what to do with this little portion of my wild and precious life (and there’s the Mary Oliver reference you knew was coming).