{beauty breather: a photographic pause for rest}
an introduction:
Each month I will share a collection of my nature photographs as a separate section of Notes From the Wilderness. These images are captured while I hunt for all things wonderful and good in a world often dark and cruel. I need the frequent reminder that all is not lost, including me.
It is intended to be a guided meditation - an invitation into noticing the wilderness and ourselves within it. There is no bypassing our grief or questions out here. Bring it all. I continuously lug my sorrow and fear into the forest, my heart met without judgment by flora & fauna, great and small. As I get on my knees in the dirt to examine a tiny mushroom or stretch my neck back to scan the tree canopy for songbirds, something happens. I find room for my lament and give voice to it.
Only then is space made for joy and delight too. This is where hope blooms.
Fellow weary hearts, this space is for us.
I invite you to take a moment to let yourself take pause and come wander with me. Urgency is not our master. Darkness does not win. Let’s delight together in the light we find. We can give ourselves full permission to stop and breathe here - drawing deeply from the well of wild things. Everything else can wait.
notes:
I am in Northern Canada and experience four distinct and rather extreme seasons. This cycle is integral to my experience. I acknowledge this frame of reference may not be familiar to everyone yet I hope you will still be able to enter in and feel welcome.
Even though I am choosing to share these images publicly, photographs belong to the photographer, not the internet. All images are copyrighted and not to be used (copied, saved, shared, printed etc) elsewhere.
You can return to each beauty breather as often as you desire. Notice what is the same and different in how you experience the words and images.
If you’re wanting to slow down but find yourself rushing through, try setting a timer (I really love the Insight Timer app.) Go at whatever pace work for you.
Meet yourself with kindness and gentleness. Let curiosity lead.
Inhale
Exhale
The air has shifted. A chill lingers. We are suspended in the tension between the abundance of summer and the starkness of winter. I’m already missing the warmth of a summer’s breeze. The aroma of freshly fallen leaves fills my nostrils now and I scuffle through them like a playful child.
I am celebrating and mourning simultaneously.
{ can you hear the sound of your feet rustling in the leaves? can you smell the sweetness in the air? will you entertain delight and let yourself play? }
I watch the leaves tumble and twirl like professional parachuters falling to the earth. Most fall unsung - unnoticed. I stand at attention to bear witness to the ones raining down on me, honouring the beauty of their descent. It is marvelous how the glory of autumn, ablaze in flashy fiery hues, settles into dormancy.
The wild knows it is time to rest, as do I.
Death and decay are not the end of this story. It is a great cycle, to which we belong. Birth-growth-death-rebirth. season by season. day by day. year by year.
{ examine the radiance of this fallen leaf, how the light has fallen on it. notice its curvature, the line of the midrib stretching from the tip down the centre to the stem. let your eyes scan the textures surrounding its resting place. imagine the leaf’s remaining mustard hues turning rich brown, the leaf eventually releasing itself into the shadows and crevices beneath it. }
Golden from green, the entire forest is exhaling. I sigh too.
exhale
inhale
{ notice the gradation in colour from one side to the other in these fern fronds. look at how the marbling interrupts its repetition. what patterns do you see? }
I love the autumn light - no longer harsh as it is in the height of July’s endless hours. (And I love those long bright days.) Leaves and seed pods hold the sun like brilliant lanterns - I wonder, could I be one too? I want to hold onto light like that.
{ imagine if you could feel the warmth of the sun, absorbing and holding on to it in your own body. radiating outward and inward. what might that feel like? }
inhale
exhale
Autumn is brisk in the North - blink and you’re bound to miss it. Do you wonder how it all surrenders so quickly? I bet it feels good to let go like that.
But it’s hard to fall back.
It’s easy to see the grandeur when it shimmers like gold. Now the branches are nearly bare, the world dulled in muted shades. Even with a gained hour the daylight will still dwindle to only a few hours each day. Will our eyes adjust to the darkness?
Will we remember what it felt like to hold the light within us?
{ let your eyes follow the lines of each vein. trace the edges of the layered leaves. notice they are now kissed with frost. could this be beautiful too? }
{ what do you see? what colours and lines? what texture? could we call it lovely? }
Have faith, weary hearts. There is beauty awaiting us. We don’t have to hold our breath until spring. We’ve survived this place before, we’ll get through it again. I wonder what will glimmer this time.
Hold on.
And fall back.
Thank you for inviting me to your new special space! This is going to be great 🤗
Thank you for your beautiful words and soft, rich photos. They helped me breathe deep and fall back.