Mary Reynolds Thompson's Blog, page 11

A Dream of Trees

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is a thing in me that dreamed of trees,

A quiet house, some green and modest acres

A little way from every troubling town,

A little way from factories, schools, laments.

I would have time, I thought, and time to spare,

With only streams and birds for company,

To build out of my life a few wild stanzas.

And then it came to me, that so was death,

A little way away from everywhere.

There is a thing in me still dreams of trees.

But let it go. Homesick for moderation,

Half the world’s artists shrink or fall away.

If any find solution, let him tell it.

Meanwhile I bend my heart toward lamentation

Where, as the times implore our true involvement,

The blades of every crisis point the way.

I would it were not so, but so it is.

Who ever made music of a mild day?

––(c) Mary Oliver

Do you feel the times implore your true involvement? If so, what does that involvement look like to you?
We live in challenging times, how might that help bring out your internal music??
Begin a poem with the lines, “There is a thing in me still dreams of [name it]….

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Vinit Allen’s Wild Soul Story

Vinit Allen, founder of the sustainable world coalition and publisher of the Sustainable World Sourcebook, shares his remarkable Wild Soul Story of leading a retreat on Mount Shasta during the first globally synchronized meditation event. While there, Vinit encountered angels, intense and dynamic energies, and stayed awake all night to the Rainbow people’s drumming. As he puts it, he’s had many experiences and adventures in nature before and since, but never one quite as intense and powerful as the one you can listen to here. Find out more about Vinit and the amazing work he does to create a sustainable world here.

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Carol Luther’s Wild Soul Story

Carol Luther, the Priest In Care at St. Aidan’s Episcopal Church in Bolinas, tells me, “Right before finishing seminary I went with my family to Yosemite, one of the wild places that had shaped me from childhood, and in the embrace of wild Nature, I was given a life changing dream in which I experienced what I think the Universe is calling us to become.” Listen to her life-changing story. And then check out her beautiful church, and all the wonderful things Carol is up to, here.

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Fauve

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Caw Caw, Caw Caw Caw.

To comprehend a crow

you must have a crow’s mind.

To be the night rain,

silver, on black leaves,

you must live in the

shine and wet. Some people

drift in their lives:

green-gold plankton,

phosphorescent, in the sea.

Others slash: a knife

at a yellow window shade

tears open the light.

But to live digging deep

is to feel the blood

in you rage as rivers,

is to feel love and hatred

as fibers of rope,

is to catch the scent

of a wolf, and turn wild.

~ (c) Arthur Sze ~

Become crow’s mind, or leaf’s mind, or wolf’s mind, and write a piece from the perspective of your chosen creature or being.
The poet begins with the language of crows. Start your poem by writing down the sound a wild creature makes, and see where it leads you.
What would it take for you to live from your wild self?

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Do You Have a Wild Soul Story?

I realize one of my greatest joys at present is interviewing people about their Wild Soul Story. These stories can take place at any time, from childhood to the present. Each person’s story is different, but it is always about awakening through nature to something deeper and truer within ourselves.

Listening to these stories my heart breaks open. I’m beginning to see patterns–how the Earth seems to speak to us when we’re at our most confused and looking for answers, or when we’re ill and in need of healing. Or when our longing is fierce within us.

When are you most open to the wisdom of the wild?

Two Wild Soul Stories told to me by women took place when they were just twelve years old. Did you feel the same call to the natural world when you stood between girlhood and womanhood? Or as a young boy, on the cusp of adulthood, how did the wild speak to you and your life?

Common threads weave among our experiences, despite the differences in the details––the need to connect and be a part of something larger than ourselves. A desire for meaning and for magic. A deep wanting for there to be more–more love, more connection, more joy.

In listening to people’s Wild Soul Stories, I am reminded of the many stories I have heard over the last decade of doing my Wild Soul work. In sacred circles we gather to share what has meaning for us, what we care about, what we truly love.

These things are never to do with money or prestige or position. They are to do, inevitably, with what draws us into the heart of the world, to each other, and the wonder of being alive.

When I return from visiting my mother in England at the beginning of May, I’ll be holding a free “Write Your Wild Soul Story” teleclass. So please stay tuned for that.

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David Christopher’s Wild Soul Story

David Christopher, author of The Holy Universe, tells a story of watching a television show about extinction as a young boy. Horrified and heartbroken, he begins to sob. His father, concerned, tries to comfort him telling him, “It’s nothing to cry about.” And that, David tells us, is the problem. Why aren’t we grieving for all the losses? Hear his moving Wild Soul Story, and how it shaped his own passion for protecting Earth. And find out more about David and his powerful book on his website.

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The Place Where You Live

One of my favorite sections in Orion magazine is “The Place Where You Live.” All kinds of people write short pieces that describe the countryside or towns and cities they inhabit. These are simple descriptions, yet they draw you in––give you a sense not only of the place but the person who’s writing about it. In my course, “Writing from the Natural World” I’ve always started by asking people to introduce themselves by where of where they live. And, of course, I always introduce myself similarly.

I live in Pacheco Valle* in Marin County, California. Marin County is a contrast between suburban sprawl and ocean, hill, forest, and wind-buffeted grasslands. Ancient redwoods drip sea mist and whales breach off shore. Each fall, kites, falcons, harriers and other raptors migrate south over the Marin headlands in the tens of thousands. The piercing cry of red-tailed hawks or the whirr of hummingbirds, a flash of light, are daily fare. Marin pulses with wildness, the sporadic shudder of fault lines. The presence of mountain lions lifts the hairs on the back of your neck when you walk alone. At night, from my front stoop, I watch stars swim across the sky like minnows. I was born in London, England, where I was pushed in my pram through well-manicured parks. Marin feels like home to me now.

Now it’s your turn. Just have fun and paint a picture of the place where you live. No wrong turns here, just an introduction.

* Valle has no ‘y’

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One Place to Begin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You need a reason, any reason—skiing, a job in movies,

the Golden Gate Bridge.

Take your reason and drive west, past the Rockies.

When you’re bored with bare hills, dry flats, and distance,

stop anywhere.

Forget where you thought you were going.

Rattle through the beer cans in the ditch.

If there’s a fence, try your luck—they don’t stop cows.

Follow the first hawk you see, and when the sagebrush

trips you, take a good look before you get up.

The desert gets by without government.

Crush juniper berries, breathe the smell, smear your face.

When you wonder why you’re here, yell as loud

as you can and don’t look behind.

Walk. Your feet are learning.

Admit you’re afraid of the dark.

Soak the warmth from scabrock, cheek to lichen.

The wind isn’t talking to you. Listen anyway.

Let the cries of coyotes light a fire in your heart.

Remember the terrible song of stars—–you knew it once,

before you were born.

Tell a story about why the sun comes back.

Sit still until the itches give up, lizards ignore you,

a mule deer holds you in her eyes.

Explain yourself over and over. Forget it all

when a scrub jay shrieks.

Imagine sun, sky, and wind the same, over your

scattered white bones.

One Place to Begin” by John Daniel, from Of Earth. © Lost Horse Press, 2012.

What is the one place you would like to begin again? For the poet, it’s the desert. For you? And why?
What fences will you need to ignore to live wild and free?
What reason will you give to yourself to begin your wilder life? And what advice do you have for that wilder, more earth-connected part of you?

 

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Clouds Are Flowing

Clouds are flowing in the river, waves are flying in the sky.

Life is laughing in a pebble. Does a pebble every die?

Flowers grow out of the garbage, such a miracle to see.

What seems dead and what seems dying makes for butterflies

to be.

Life is laughing in a pebble, flowers bathe in morning dew.

Dust is dancing in my footsteps and I wonder who is who.

Clouds are flowing in the river, clouds are drifting in my tea,

On a never-ending journey, what a miracle to be!

(C) Eveline Beumkes

Write a poem about nature using rhyme. Don’t worry, have fun with it!
What are the miracles that you see around you? Make them part of a gratitude journal.
Take a moment to look at the sky. Begin by describing what you see in rich detail and then allow free association to carry you onward.

And we’d love it if you could share your writing below.

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Richard Charter’s Wild Soul Story

Richard Charter, Senior Fellow with The Ocean Foundation, has been working to protect our marine ecosystems and sensitive coastlines for over three decades. Now you can hear him talk about how one day, as a young man contemplating his life on a beach along the Mendocino coastline, he experienced the ocean ecosystem as a unified life force of which he was an integral part. This awe-inspiring moment would influence the focus of his life and gift us all with a man whose work it is to protect the oceans. You can learn more about Richard and how to support his work here, and celebrate his recent achievement––a substantial boundary expansion of the Cordell Bank and Gulf of the Farallones National Marine Sanctuaries––by watching this beautiful video.

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