In the quiet of dawn, as the sun gently kisses the horizon, there lies a whisper carried on the breeze. It beckons us to listen, to open our hearts to the silent symphony of the earth. Could it be that in the rustle of leaves and the sway of branches, there resides a tale waiting to be told?
Amidst the ancient guardians of the forest, could the trees indeed hold secrets, whispering of the divine hand that shaped them? And as we stand in awe before towering mountains, do they not draw us closer to the divine presence, their peaks reaching towards the heavens?
In the dance of life around us, amidst the creatures both big and small, is there not a song of renewal echoing through the wilderness? The scampering of tiny feet, the graceful flight of birds, each a testament to the boundless creativity of the Holy One.
Revelatory moments in nature need not be fleeting occurrences, reserved for rare occasions. What if, in the embrace of the natural world, we find ourselves enveloped in the arms of the divine each and every day? What if every step outside our door is an invitation to communion with the sacred?
The earth pulses with the rhythm of Spirit, offering a sanctuary for our weary souls to find solace. It calls us to rediscover the wonder of incarnation, to see the divine in every leaf, every blade of grass, every creature that crosses our path.
So let us carve out time, dear friend, to immerse ourselves in nature's embrace, free from the shackles of agenda. Whether it's a quiet moment in our backyard or a grand adventure in the wild, let us heed the call of the earth and listen with intent.
As we stand amidst the tapestry of creation, let us ask ourselves: What element of nature speaks to me today? What message does it carry for my soul? And in the stillness of our hearts, may we find answers to the quandaries that plague our minds, guided by the wisdom of the natural world.
Let us listen, truly listen, with all our senses attuned to the whispers of the earth. For in the symphony of creation, there lies a divine melody waiting to be heard.
(adopted from: Shannon K. Evans, Rewilding Motherhood)