Reflections From the John Muir Trail 2020: Part VI - Learning Ourselves Through Nature

In awe at the base of an ancient Rocky Mountain Juniper. Ansel Adams Wilderness, California.

On the sixth day of the journey I came across what I thought was an ancient Cedar tree standing alone in all its splendor with an exceptional view of peaks across the way.

I became enamored with aged, dying and dead trees when in my youth I saw my first leaf skeleton. I was so fascinated with it's structure--a delicate outline of the leaf with a grid of once-hidden bones across its body. Since then, I've always been pulled toward the contorted and demised elders in the forest.

This tree, that I guessed was about 3,000 years old, turned out to be a Rocky Mountain Juniper, the uses, of which, to the indigenous peoples of the Americas, are too numerous to list. But my instant reaction was a recognition of its sacredness.

I spent about an hour enjoying this tree and it helped reset my pacing to one of the speed of wakefulness and sacredness. This life is so precious. And, we are completely unable to capture and hold on to any of it. If my attention is elsewhere, I lose the only--THE ONLY--opportunity I have to experience the flowering.

Like every unique wave that builds and crests, though made up of the same water as the ocean, my life is the divine unfolding from birth to death and decay of moments that can't be replaced. If I miss a single moment, it can never be recaptured in its entirety.

So off I went at the speed of wakefulness, grateful that, at day six, I had chosen to go to day 14, as I was just getting into the rhythm.

I also gleaned I was learning myself through nature. This human existence that is part of the greater unfolding of nature is reflected back at me at every turn when with the elements.

A grand Rocky Mountain Juniper. Ansel Adams Wilderness, California.

Hard to see the young tree in front of the tall dead conifer. Nature shows the way for supporting future generations, even after their death. Ansel Adams Wilderness, California.

As the days unfolded I kept seeing human life reflected in nature and I felt alive in learning how things are. I'm loving as I get older these recognitions and insights.

On one morning, while doing yoga and meditation on a relatively flat slab of granite, I noticed a young conifer hugging closely to a dead tree. That tree may have been alive when the seedling sprouted--in fact it may even be it's parent.

The dead tree offered sanctuary to the young one by sheltering it from full on wind, weather and snow. Many a tree at this elevation is gnarled and stunted from heavy snow, breaking or bending the top. This is the same protection a parent can give their child--protection from early traumas that stunt the child's growth early on affecting their capacity to grow into their full potential.

This now-dead elder also left, as its inheritance, a structure for the young tree to follow to grow straight and tall, maximizing its opportunity for sunlight and survival. Again, our parents and grandparents can offer this support, but what struck me about this, being a dead tree, is the impact we have on future generations even after we die. We become ancestors and our memory can offer guidance far beyond the grave.

Learning my capacities, seeing how human life is the same as those animals and vegetation we live amongst, and the shifting and changing weather patterns and seasonal cycles all help me learn myself. And really, with the precious nature of a human life, that's one of the greatest offers of respect and I can give--to myself and the world--is to learn myself. I'm hear partly to learn myself through nature and it's much easier when I move at the speed of wakefulness.

I'm curious--what have you learned about yourself through nature?

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Author

JoAnn Saccato, MA is a mindfulness teacher specializing in disaster and trauma resiliency and learning the self through nature. As a mindfulness-based life coach, she helps others align heart, mind and body with their deepest values and intentions to live a deeply authentic life they can truly love.

JoAnn lives in the hills of Northern California and travels the world over with her curiosity and teachings. She is the author of Companioning the Sacred Journey: A Guide to Creating a Compassionate Container for Your Spiritual Practice and Mindful and Intentional Living: A Path to Peace, Clarity and Freedom.