Nature, curiosity, sensitivity, and healing

in OCD5 years ago

Nature, curiosity,
sensitivity, and healing

.
original writing and images,
plus an original poem


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Introduction

Happy Sunday everyone! This post will be a hybrid of sorts, drawn together by the thread of my experience yesterday hiking in my local area with a group of friends. First came a poem, and I have used the photos which I took along the trail to create some digital composite images. Then I thought I would offer some reflections in prose as a jumping-off point for discussions in the comment section, should you feel so compelled. Please do engage as that is one of my main motivations for journal-blogging here on Steem! May you have a wonderful start to the upcoming week.

.....

The balm of Nature

Nature's restorative power on the mind is chiefly to be found in her unpredictability. In natural settings we behold infinite variation on the subtlest levels; she is quite unconcerned with producing a particular effect. As human-doers we primarily deal with the defined and the finite in our work, even if we one of those artists seeking to convey the limitless. A flash of insight comes—spontaneous revelation—after which we are concerned with reducing this inexplicable sensation down to something comprehensible; we desire to communicate something tangible that will make us known to others in a way that pays homage to and expands our sense of self. We seek subconsciously to feel our kinship with the chaotic perfection of the natural world of which we are inextricably a part.

Curiosity's coma

Humans are obsessed with understanding the workings of things; our natural state is curiosity. This innate quality appears to be absent only when it is denigrated by mental programming that tells us to focus narrowly; we are told to be responsible and adult is to become dull, callous, and uncaring with regards to that which is supposedly unrelated to our particular field of interest. This, again, is a symptom of compartmentalization in which we arbitrarily select aspects of reality that we believe to be pertinent or impertinent to a certain topic—after the fact claiming this to be objective truth by naming categories such as biology, metallurgy, dance, nutrition, writing etc.

The state of general awe is even pathologized by inventing conditions such as "attention deficit disorder;" God forbid we might have the facility to rapidly switch from one aspect of reality to another, gleaning the interconnectedness glimpsed therein! It is necessary, we are told, to regularly take toxic compounds to stuff our consciousness back into the box out of which it naturally leaps in the course of its evolution. To be happy and successful, we must apparently define ourselves as harshly as possible and become a crosshatched blueprint for the manufacturing of some dastardly weapon or another aimed to increase the glory and dominion of the human race over the endless threats to our survival in the form of the temporal universe.

Sensitivity and self-hypnosis

It is remarkable how quickly this narrative dissolves given enough contact with the natural world. In contemplation and being quiet, away from our supposedly miraculous technology, we rapidly regain a heightened sensitivity and appreciation for the subtle that our insistence on sharp edges steals from us. It begins to be clear that aside from the basic physical needs all bodies must share, there are vastnesses of potential that await us that hinge not on what we do but rather our essential being.

In the modern world we are often inside for long periods of time in relative darkness, staring into our screens, those binary crystalline portals that promise to transport us elsewhere. Too often they take us only halfway; we become dependent on external phenomena to carry us somewhere and forget to use the wings of our spirit. We make ourselves caged birds in mute resignation. We become skilled self-hypnotists and whisper convincing untruths that paint a bleak mural over the walls of the small rooms in which we crouch, hunched into a corner, manically keeping ourselves busy to distract ourselves from the brilliance we inherently radiate which blinds our cave-adjusted eyes.

Conclusion?

Can there be said to be a conclusion to that which is beginningless and endless? What is it we seek along the adventure of the flesh upon which we have embarked? Will we have the courage and presence of mind to begin to break out of collectively manufactured containment-belief-systems in which we are self-enslaved? Will we choose to have the courage to look at that dynamic, unpredictable infinity that we have in common with the natural world—and choose to be radically honest with ourselves, regardless of the path upon which this pivotal decision sets us?

Please share your impressions
in the comment section below,
and until next time I am


Yours,
@d-pend


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A quickening, a pause


What life's blood entails
I find in trudge o'er hills;
I chase in tramp through valleys,
and padding step past rills.

I search that vig'rous vast
inexplicable—within.
She shows me wondrous vistas:
art not made by men.

By hands not, but wind-built,
by luscious breath of stone—
up fiery spine all gem-gilt
with sheen'd akashic waves;
they shimm'ring rise alone
from her deep earth-old caves.

They rise in aching curves
and fall, a mount's collapse
between the notion and the noise,
notes sung, and breathèd lapse.

Her lung-strain, her poise,
her kind-smile on joys,
her brow's soft disdain:
—her song, e'er again
finds a voice within the storm,
conducting roiling cloud-strand
as roil we, the worm
who buries 'neath her shroud
to our rain-dark delight.

Our bliss and our fright—
in motion through the veins
of that life-blood remains.


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....................
Original writing and images
created by Daniel J. Pendergraft
.
Published to STEEM
March 1st, 2020.
..........


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Screen Shot 2020-03-01 at 1.24.49 PM 2.jpeg


Compartments, containments,
loosed now—aloof to them,
under consoling boughs
I float—petrific trails.


Screen Shot 2020-03-01 at 1.24.49 PM 3.jpeg


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A great reflection that rains down on the attitude of us humans. So many warnings, so many alerts that we are further and further from the path, have not been repaired, but have increased the evil, if we can call it that.
Farther and farther from the natural, we allow ourselves to be seduced by all the sirenistic bombardment of technology.

Life is in nature, but most of us live immersed in a kind of non-life or nondeath, with no beginning or end that takes our senses away from physical reality and frames them in other realities that distract our progress towards the infinite possibilities of truly human growth.

Nature as a noble mother, as a sister, as a friend calls us, shows us subtle signs where beauty is a force to rise, to enter into one and let go of illusion. But, instead of looking for the right key that opens the lock, we play at hiding it so that no one will find it, entertained by the futuristic vision that presents sensitivity and consciousness as controlled hallucinations.

In another vein, I was fascinated by the images and the poem is a true reverberation of beauty presented as a wave that delights, and at the same time scares by the nearby states of ecstasy that cross the border between the living and the dead, breaking kingdoms, resurfacing in other forms of existence.

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Wow! The essay alone is phenomenal. Here are three bits that were, for me, salient:

A flash of insight comes—spontaneous revelation—after which we are concerned with reducing this inexplicable sensation down to something comprehensible; we desire to communicate something tangible that will make us known to others in a way that pays homage to and expands our sense of self. Great description of how I feel when a poem is coming on

We make ourselves caged birds in mute resignation. I have been thinking this about my obsession with steem, given all the current drama. Do I really need to be here so much?

Will we have the courage and presence of mind to begin to break out of collectively manufactured containment-belief-systems in which we are self-enslaved? Our lives depend on it

As for the poem, fabulous. How lovely it is to be out in nature, knowing I am but one tiny itty bitty piece of a exquisite whole, even if only as a glorified petrific worm. (I looked that word up, you mischievous fellow, you)

Quicken is a fantastic word - my life force quickens when I walk in nature. Since this has always been true for me, before cell phones or wifi, I can't attribute it to being away from EMF. Nature is a force beyond any and all of we humans, and she both cares about us deeply and gives none of us one whit. I am so happy I thought to come visit you today!

Now maybe you know the answer to this: I had already upvoted this via an autovote, but I changed my upvote from the autovote 10% to 100%, and your payout went down by a few cents. This happens every time I change my upvote. Do you have any idea why?

What a gorgeous post!! I saw it shared on twittee by @zeleiracordero.

Beautiful images & healing thoughts. I think the @naturalmedicine community , as well as the new Inkwell community, wuuld love you to subscribe & post there. You probably would also have a LOT to contribute to the new SpiritWeb community.

I want to be there and breathe the air and feel the pulse of the new sprouts and leaves. She sings glory to the maker of all things.

haha! The things we say when we are talking to ourselves.
Does doing this ever get you anything? I started up a twitter account just so that I could do this and it never did get me even another penny, so I stopped. Who needs the extra work? All the niggling details I do here often take me longer than producing content.

We are SO proud to have you as a member of our
FANTABULOUS Power House Creatives family!
upvoted and resteemed!

❤ MWAH!!! ❤

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What a beautiful way to start the week so many lovely words and so refreshing you have a lovely week ahead also 😊

Extremely and wonderfully thought-provoking @d-pend. Thank you so much. ((':
Resteemed.

Thanks for your support and comment @joeylim :-) !ENGAGE 10



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