This morning I read a blog post about how nature feeds our soul. It resonated. But #6 on the list also reminded me of a conversation I had several years ago with Margie Ingram of the Humor Project. At the time the Humor Project’s offices were in the same building as my office. In some ways our work could not be more different. The Humor Project focuses on the power of laughter and joy to transform the world. Our agency helps victims of relationship and sexual abuse become survivors and transcend and heal for those experiences. Over a cup of coffee at Uncommon Grounds, Margie made a very sage observation, that showed that there was more commonality in our work than just sharing a building “Sometimes our greatest suffering comes form the belief that everyone else has it so much better than we do. We often only see the positive things in people’s lives and have no clue about their struggles, and what they have to overcome.”
Tuesday is Good News Day
From the day he was born, there was one thing that soothed and restored my eldest son. Even when he was crying inconsolably, all it took to calm him was to pop him on my hip and go stand outside in nature for a few minutes. He didn’t just like warm days with clear blue skies. He loved everything about nature. So sometimes we’d stand and bask in the sunshine, or maybe in February’s biting winds and icy snowflakes. At times the rain would kiss us like a gentle mist… and other times we’d look like soggy pooches after just a couple of minutes outside. Just being outdoors restored his peace and soothed his soul.
It was foreshadowing. As a teen he yearned for wilderness treks , week-long kayak trips, and hikes in the high peaks out west. Adolescent surliness would soften to gentle calm after a week in the wild. For nine years he has chosen to labor outdoors each day, felling trees, digging all day in summer’s heat, and occasionally battling poison ivy. It can be backbreaking work, usually figuratively (but a misstep a few years ago while digging an irrigation trench led to an excruciating ambulance ride and a more literal definition of ‘backbreaking work’.) Even so, I understand why he chooses this work. He sees the sunrise every morning, notes the first blush of green as buds emerge on trees, and the crystalline constellations of frost in the grass as nature begins preparing for winter’s rest. By contrast I’ve worked for over a decade in a windowless basement, doing a job I love… but without a daily conscious effort to seek green, I’d only know it’s summer when the Saratogian’s pink sheets appear