Lightness of Being…

There are woods close to my home that capture my imagination every time I walk by. Winter has ruffled off the leaves on their crowns and painted them in faded hues. I can’t help but stare at them, captivated by how ancient the age-old trees look. It feels like they have been around forever and if they aren’t bulldozed to construct yet another shopping mall, they will continue bearing witness long after I have faded from memory.

I wonder how many solitary souls have gazed at them in wonder before me. I make a small prayer that many more will trek by to behold something of the way such a sight pulls at the soul.

I have always associated winter with “death” but the more time I spend outdoors (and this is perhaps the first winter season in over a decade that I have consistently made time to be outside); the more I realize how much exhilaration is in the air. It’s as if this piece of earth I am standing on has gotten a chance to exhale all her nonessentials and get back into the brown, gray, black tones of her own clay; in touch with her own essence.

I am aware this is merely a projection of my own state onto my surroundings. The “death” and winter blues I saw earlier; the vibrant intimacy I see now; are snapshots of my journey homeward. I took such a long circuitous (and at times torturous) route to get to the point that I can hear the poetry in the air again; I wake up with a sense of smoldering excitement and anticipation for the day ahead. It’s reliving my childhood again, except this time I am nurturing the tranquility and creating the spaces to play; my children are soaking it all in.

Out of all the symbols surrounding us, nature speaks most eloquently of “that which can’t be named, described, or conceived.” I am detoxing myself from the word “God” because the moment I say it, I feel my understanding of Him constricting, anthropomorphic, and glazed into the rote thinking I grew up with. This Ineffable Reality pervading everything, giving rise to mountains and valleys, universes and heavens, oceans and skies, creation in all its depth and complexity; this Ineffable Reality can’t be named or contained in a single word/phrase or even in the narrow circuits of reason; has me striving to connect the dots.

Sometimes when I read the Quran I sense that the function of those words (like nature, like all of reality) is to simply pull us inward facilitating certain states. Tasting a little of fear, of hope, of vulnerability, of worthlessness, of the awesome quake of recognition; and the sweetest sadness at realizing the overwhelming embrace of His Compassion and Mercy. In a world where sensory overload is producing the walking dead; this ability to feel and experience reality in the fullness of its depth is the first step towards redemption and healing.

My living room overlooks some woods. In the summer time, they are so dense with greenery and foliage; they give us the illusion of having a whole forest in our backyard. Now I can see the road just a little beyond and the buildings clustered further on. I am a little deflated to be reminded that I am still stuck in the middle of the suburbs; a truly artificial construct if there ever was one.

I am really struck by the bare branches though, and how beautiful and different they each are from each other. Some make intricate patterns against the clear blue sky that remind me wistfully of gorgeous henna dyes decorating a bride’s hands and feet. At twilight, I sometimes turn off the living room lights to see Sufyan’s eyes widen at the tangle of shadows against “glow in the dark” purples and pinks of skies. I love how I am constantly pointing the heavens to him, and how he always scavenges for crunchy leaves, a weird shaped rock, or a funky branch to give me as a present. He grounds me like that, and keeps me sane.

The last couple of weeks have been chaotic on a micro-scale. Both my children fell ill (and are much better Alhamdullillah) and the escalating violence in Kenya; has driven home some painful truths. I have relaxed my being to trust in the moment and my lack of resistance has cushioned my anxieties and allowed me to navigate murky and tense waters with clarity. There is only so much I can do, but if I care to do it in the best of form, willingly and lovingly, then the difference I make is much more meaningful.

This is partly why I seek shelter in trees, water, earth, the canopy of ever changing skies; it keeps me in harmony with a larger song, allowing me to penetrate my own surfaces and realize my own depths. Like a succession of many souls before me, I will soon turn into a distant echo; I am afforded but a single glimpse to utter the “Ah” of recognition. These archaic woods of mine remind me of ancient paths I had once trodden and yet never have; paths I have left behind and yet I am inexplicably headed towards.