Go Outside!

“To sit in the shade on a fine day and look upon verdure is the most perfect refreshment.” - Jane Austen

If you're like me, you don't go outside enough. I read inside. I write inside. I speak to groups of people inside. I go to a gym and workout inside. Why do we even call them workouts? They're typically work-ins. I normally eat, drink, and sleep inside. Then, there's the television. It's inside. And it often keeps me in when I could be out contemplating the heavens, gazing at the stars and feeling our smallness in the grand scheme of things. 

And we wonder why the greatest life wisdom often comes down the centuries to us from long ago. People spent much more time outside then. And it made a difference. In fact, many wise voices from the past advise us now to get out more.

“Never a day passes but that I do myself the honor to commune with some of nature’s varied forms.” - George Washington Carver

I'm think I'm going to make it a practice to get out more, to feel a few minutes of sunshine on my face, to enjoy some communion with sky and grass and trees, to sit and watch the birds fly by, and listen to the geese honk as they often pass over my backyard. Whenever I do it, it reconnects me to the fundamental things, and the real rhythms of life.

I did that recently, for hours. I sat outside and communed with nature. Nature communed back. I felt refreshed, rejuvenated, renewed.

On a beautiful day, it can be an energizing experience, even for a few minutes. And then, even after a rain, there can be a special something in the air, and on the ground.

“The world is mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful.” - E.E. Cummings

Why don't you give yourself the gift of more time outside? You don't have to hike the Appalachian Trail, or go climb a mountain. A few minutes in the air, and under nature's dome will do you good. Reconnect. And see if it doesn't inspire new thoughts and feelings.

Animals: Our Mystical Colleagues

In this week’s American Scholar, in a column on books that have influenced people's lives, a weekly piece called “Reading Lessons,” Sy Montgomery, the author of 20 books on animals and nature, discusses a book he once read that was formative for his career. And he quotes and comments:

“We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals,” Henry Beston wrote in his 1928 classic, The Outermost House. “For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours, they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear.”

This week’s writeup is on a book subtitled “A Year of Life on the Great Beach of Cape Cod.” Montgomery goes on to say:

Beston brought to his observations of the natural world all of his talents—not just his intellect, but his emotion and intuition as well. His book is, to me, a blueprint for how to open your soul to creation, how to see animals in a new, humbling, and revelatory way. 

A lady has helped us manage our home for nearly twenty years. Our dogs know when she leaves her own house across town to come to ours. Our cat has trained us in various ways to do what he wants us to do, and when he wants us to do it. How much do animals understand? What’s their thought and feeling world like? When I ponder this intensely enough, it makes me want to be a vegetarian. We’ve even had a group of wild deer years ago show that they knew when the kids would come home from school each day, and gather behind our house to wait for their daily afternoon treat of dried corn. Who was their timekeeper? Who called the meeting? One day, when we were late, the boldest of the deer, a young one, came across to our back deck, and walked up the steps to peer into the door, presumably to find out what was delaying things.

I’m sure you have your own stories. What is our place in nature, really? How much could we benefit and learn by opening ourselves to new insights? What do we need to learn from our mystical colleagues, the animals?

Maybe you should ask your dog or cat.

Give Yourself a Break

Dear Reader: I hope you give yourself a break now and then. You work hard. Life calls on you to do so many things. I know. I had a busy day, even though, yeah, I'm a philosopher, so keep that in mind. Nonetheless, a lot's going on this week. So I gave myself an hour this evening to just relax.

I sat out back on our upper patio. The lower patio adjoins a raised brick fish pond. From where I was, I could look down on it, and the great trees all around. I sat on a thickly cushioned chair, put my feet up on another one, and lit up a nice Nicaraguan cigar. I poured a small glass of Macallan 12 year single malt. And I just enjoyed my little piece of our beautiful world.

During the hour, three pairs of ducks flew over, honking goodbye to the day. I watched an industrious squirrel work on a truly impressive nest, high up in a tall magnolia tree. One of his friends chirped encouragement.

It was 82 degrees today with low humidity here at the coast. As the evening cooled, I watched pink and orange streak the bright blue sky above me. I enjoyed the solitude immensely, but also wished I had one of our periodic retreats going on and I could share the moment, and the goodies, with some brother and sister philosophers. I imagined us out on the deck of the nearby resort where we hold our sessions, overlooking the whitecaps of the ocean rolling in to lightly touch the broad sandy beach.

Don't forget to do something now and then to elicit those brain waves that make for transcendent rest and relaxation. I don't light up a cigar very often, or sip a malted beverage. But when I do, it's a special occasion. Give yourself your own version soon.

Making Our Mark On the World

Hi everyone! Blogging this morning from the beautiful Wilmington, NC airport, preparing to board. I wanted to tell you about something interesting that came to light in the past few days.

The journal Nature reported this week that paintings of hands and animals in seven limestone caves on the Indonesian island of Sulawesi may be the oldest human art yet discovered. It's estimated that the people who did these simple paintings put their mark on the stone walls more than 39,000 years ago.

Since the beginning, human beings have wanted to make their mark in the world, to say "I was here!" I love it that so many of the paintings were outlines of hands. "This is me." Or, "This is my son." Or, This is my mate."

Those artists could have had no idea that we'd be talking about the hands and the animals they painted, more than 39,000 years after they made those simple, but inspired markings.

Likewise, we have no idea how far and wide our simple daily acts may reach and what impact they may have on others. The cave painters could never have predicted that their work would move us in 2014 to reflect on our own lives, and on how we make our own marks on the world.

And their lessons are many. One is that the smallest things can leap and fly across space and time with amazing results. Try to remember that in the little things you do.

Today.