There is a natural depth and richness in us that can slip away in our busy-ness, like a harbor seal slipping beneath the waves. And, like the harbor seal, that part of us is still there in the depths. A nature journal requiring presence, attentiveness and patience--inquisitive focus, is a practice that can restore us to the mer-magic of our own depths.
An enduring student of nature, I carry strong imprints from my age 4: standing in a flannel nightgown, barefoot in night-dewed grass, staring into the depths of the stars; washing my clothes at the riverbank on a three-week desert camping trip; standing in waist-high drifts of sleet at stream's edge as my father and grandfather cast their lines for trout; captivated by the massive curl of a glassine jade breaker; lulled into spontaneous meditation by the rumbled rhythms of the surf.
More than four decades later, I sat a semester of Natural History of the Southwest, at Yavapai College -- taught by an exacting, passionate instructor, Dena Greenwood-Miller, covering: flora, fauna and geology--including binomial nomenclature of living things, we 15 students growing depthed respect in our accumulating understanding of nature.
During the 16-week course, Dena assigned us 3 hours minimum a week, 49 hours, of nature presence and journaling -- day or night, no matter the weather, connecting with, paying attention to, nature's offerings. Through minute detail: drawings and sketches, collecting field samples, research notes and narrative, we recorded our interface with the wildness that holds our days and nights. We connected to the pulse, rhythms and cycles of nature's power, beauty and grace in ways we had only done in intermittent camping trips and weekend outings, in fleeting focus.
If I found myself, due to my heavy work/study load, coming up shy of the required three hours, the night before our weekly class found me on all fours, atop the bed, tracking the arcs of stars through the black ink of the sky, courtesy of a massive picture window. The dawn's ripple of light signaled the need to inhale my breakfast, before a sequence of rocking a jeep load of tour-guests through the red rock canyons, then rocketing off to night-class--my work, and my life, immeasurably enriched by that enforced practice.
The journal came with me to the Midwest, my interim home away from home, until I relocate to Port Townsend, WA, in the spring of 2018. I still pull this journal of nature's magic from the shelf and breathe in the desert land: the sprig of juniper, a Zen-sketch of a red fox in gray-phase, a riff of poetry triggered by a spray of stars--the high desert being my parallel love of all things sea.
In deep yearning to return to a coastal environment, available to me the first 44 years of my life--Washington, Oregon and Southern California, I was joyed to find this blog entry on Port Townsend's Marine Science Center Lecture Series! If you love the shoreline, all things sea, this is a rich, vibrant way to connect to the mystery in front of you and the tides within you:
PTMSC Blog : Connecting With Nature Through Art: Nature Journal...: Staff and volunteers head out on the beach to find subjects to draw and enjoy the sun What is nature journaling and why would anyone wan...
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