Magical.

We've had a lot of rain in the past couple of days.  The swamp has more water in it than I've ever seen.  And it's absolutely magical. Reflections like this everywhere.  Critters galore. I have stories - so many! - I'll share them soon. This watery magic won't last, so if you're in the NOLA area, come walk with me tomorrow for a first-hand experience.    We'll meet at the Pecan Grove parking area at Jean Lafitte National Park at 9 a.m., Saturday, March 24.  And we'll walk wordlessly so all of our senses can soak in the present moment.  Some call this "forest bathing" and I love that term-- with all this water it's going to almost feel like bathing! Don't worry, I've found a trail that's 99% high and dry.

Email me at carla@livingwildandprecious.com if you need more directions or want to find out more.  And if you're somewhere far away from NOLA, consider taking your own wordless walk this weekend and sending me photos or stories about what happened.  I can't wait to hear what you experience!  Won't it be cool if we all take some time to still our minds and bask in the beauty of the present?

Arguing with Mother Nature

The magnolias started flowering in mid-January.  And I got sad.  And then I started making calculations, and wishing.  Wishing for things to slow down.  Wishing for time to stop - for the trees to stay in their pink and white spangled glory.  Wishing for the flowers not to fade, for the green leaves that follow the flowers to wait a little longer.  You see, my mom is coming to visit in about ten days.  And last year, around Valentine's Day, our star magnolia tree in the yard was full of fragrant, saucer-sized blooms that looked like this: And the city was awash with pink.  And I wanted my mom to get to see that this year. But everything is too early - it's going to be over by then.

So, a couple of weeks ago, when I drove past a tree in crazy full-pink bloom, I would argue with Mother Nature in my head.  I thought things like, "Can't this just wait a little longer?"  or my favorite - a simple, "Nooooo!"

Not a great way to enjoy one of the most spectacular annual natural treats in the city.

Then I realized what I was doing.  I was refusing to enjoy something beautiful because I wanted it to happen at a different time.  I was seriously arguing with reality.  No matter how hard I wished or what kinds of imagining I did, the trees were not going to suddenly go back in time to fuzzy buds.  They weren't going to wait.  And I could be present and enjoy it, or miss it completely.

How many times do we do this? We do it with the weather -- it's raining right now as I write this -- will it still be raining for the big parade tonight?  Who knows, but I don't think I can mind control it to stop! We do it with people we know and love.  How many times do we find ourselves trying to change someone else with our thoughts- convincing ourselves that everything would be fine and we could enjoy ourselves if they would just act differently, for heaven's sake!

The truth is, the only thing we really have the power to change is our own viewpoint.  Our own lens.  Life gets a whole lot lighter when we aren't trying to get other people to be different or make the weather the way we want.  It gets lighter when we stay in our own business - taking care of what we really can do something about.

So the past few days, I've been admiring the trees.  Smelling the blooms.  Enjoying the fallen petals.  Remembering that this blooming doesn't last, and reminding myself to enjoy this beautiful, rainy, flowering, present moment.

When my mom gets here there will be plenty of lovely, special, and perhaps even surprising things to enjoy, even if they aren't pink magnolia blooms.

Wild, wonderful wordless walk

The deer came.  The woodpeckers came.  An armadillo surprised us. We were quiet for a couple of hours, but the woods around us were full of sound.  Robins, doves, frogs, hawks, chickadees, creaking trees, whooshing wind and skittering skinks provided an almost musical backdrop for our stroll, and the peaceful greens and browns of the winter swamp soothed our eyes.  For a little while we didn't have to do anything but be present and enjoy, and it was lovely. Yes-- today I hosted the my first monthly Wordless Wetland Walk on a beautiful woodland trail in Jean Lafitte National Park.  Before we even began, the deer came. This seemed special to me, because I'd asked the deer to please come. They weren't close--  way down the road actually, but one stood a long time watching, then eventually walked away, its white tail flicking coyly side to side.

Our walk was wordless to help us be present.  We wouldn't be chatting or making small talk, or even trying to find out the name of that bird or the species of this tree.  We wouldn't be talking about how pretty the woods looked or how good the wind felt. We would just be quiet, and look for the stillness in our own souls.  We'd use our senses to help us stay in the moment.

We walked to the base of one of my favorite trees and sat for a while, perched or nestled among its moss-covered roots.

We gazed up at the Spanish moss swaying in the wind.

We peered close up at leaves, acorns and dropped maple flowers,

We looked far at clouds and sky and treetops full of birds.

We didn't speak, take photos, or even gesture much.  We just walked quietly, looked, and sometimes stopped or sat.  (These photos are from my scouting walk yesterday.) We spread out for most of the time, so each of us had our own space in the woods. Toward the end of the walk we clumped up and watched an armadillo for quite a while - they don't see or hear very well, so I don't think this one even knew we were all about 6 feet from it.

We softened our gaze, slowed our steps, and breathed.  We forgot concerns or worries, at least for part of the time.  We marveled, noticed, appreciated, and most importantly, just existed.  Sound good?  Want to try it yourself?  Tomorrow I'll be writing some tips on enjoying a wordless walk anywhere.  And if you're in the NOLA area, check the Happenings tab above to see when I'm hosting the next wordless walk!