Sacred Times: Nature and the Art of Remembering
Nature connection, writing prompt, memories, imagination, relaxation, early morning at the lake
“I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order.”
~John Burroughs
Memories of Nature
I had a very different intention for this post. I planned on an essay discussing how the brain processes thoughts, memories, and perceptions through mental imagery, emotional responses, mirror neurons, the placebo effect, and the simulation hypothesis. Including such topics as the activation of the visual cortex and neural pathways. Footnotes to scientific research papers. Blah, blah, blah.
Here is a link to one research paper (there are many others): Mental imagery of nature induces positive psychological effects for those of you that do like the research.
I want to keep my writing easy and accessible; not something that makes the brain work harder. Connecting with Nature is about personal experience. It is through personal experience that we are able to accumulate our own truths and override our childhood and societal conditioning. It is an art, not a science.
“The mystery of life isn’t a problem to solve but a reality to experience.”
~Frank Herbert (Dune)
So with all that said, I encourage you to give The Invitation below a try. It’s a simple exercise that should take only about 15 minutes. Think of it as a little self-care break.
This remembering and writing exercise will show you that even memories of Nature are relaxing and healing. The writing part of all the exercises are important to anchor or ground the information into your brain and body.
What might I gain from doing the writing exercise?
developing a feel-good memory to promote relaxation, peace, and a “safe spot”
fostering of deeper noticing, seeing, and sensing—mindfullness
practicing imagination skills
potential story material
enhanced creativity
increased connection to Nature
“The act of putting pen to paper encourages pause for thought, this in turn makes us think more deeply about life, which helps us regain our equilibrium.” ~Norbet Platt
The Invitation ~ Remembering
This invitation is to think about a positive experience you’ve had in Nature and then write with as much detail as possible (a few paragraphs or however long you wish to continue writing). It could have occurred in your backyard, a park, or a wild area such as a beach, forest, or mountain. Alone or with another person or pet. Maybe you connected with a houseplant, animal, tree, rock, or your entire surroundings. All of life is Nature. If you cannot recall a pleasant time in Nature, you can create one through your imagination and writing.
Put yourself into that memory again. Evoke all your senses as you write. It is perfectly fine to embellish your past experience with as much detail, creativity, and imagination as you want. The objective is to feel like you are there.
These aren’t questions to answer but suggestions to help you go deeper into your writing and memory. What is the weather like? Can you feel a breeze on your skin or through your hair? What does the ground, sand, grass, or rock you are sitting/standing on feel like? What do you see? Textures, shapes, patterns? What colors stand out? What natural sounds can you hear? Are leaves or water moving? What smells do you notice—ocean air, pine, dried leaves, florals?
Bring life to your writing but keep it journal style, just let the words flow. Once you feel you have completed, finish with a reflective paragraph of what you found most enjoyable or rewarding from remembering and any additional thoughts or feelings about this writing invitation. Check-in with how you are feeling emotionally.
What did you think of this exercise? If you feel like sharing, I’d love to read your writing. Or maybe post to your Substack and drop a link here. Let’s connect in the comments.
You may also be interested in How To and Why Keep a Spiritual Journal
My sharing
I’m sitting on the dock, my feet just barely able to touch the soft water. It’s early and the morning fog is just starting to burn off. I’m 6 years old and feel the lightness of my cotton nightgown touching my skin. The sun is just coming up over the mountain and feels warm on my bare skin. It is so quiet and still. I hear the sound of oars and the movement of a rowboat through the water. Waterbugs are skating across the water. I hear the deep voice of bullfrogs from the tiny pond by the public beach. The earthy scent of pine trees and the pure lake water smells sweet, like after a rain. Little fish poke at my feet. The sun is breaking through the fog now and illuminates the shoreside lake bottom. I find this fascinating, to see the beams of sunlight go through the water and make the bottom visible. Several crayfish crawl around. A school of small fish we called kibbies dart around in the water. Dead tree leaves on the bottom, gently move with the motion of the water. My little legs swing carefree, feet moving in and out of the water.
This is my happy place, a place I visualize often. It’s one of the quickest ways I know of relaxing and calming anxiety. I loved my summer mornings alone time before anyone else was up out of bed.
(This memory took place at the lake in the photo).
This post is why I started Sacred Environment:
If something I wrote sparked some inspiration or brightened your day a little, or anything else you’d like to share… I’d be very grateful to hear about it in the comments, restack or click the little heart 💚 for a “like”.
Here is a recent Nature memory. It is from my story about George the Mute Swan, which I posted here some time ago.
It was an unlikely friendship. A human and a swan, a mute swan (Cygnus olor) to be precise. It began simply enough in the spring of 2019, when my wife and I decided to take a walk to Mill Pond, which was close to the house at the time.
My oldest son went with us once to Mill Pond, a few years after George and I became friends. George was swimming in the middle of the pond, about 60 to 75 metres away. I told my son that if George saw me, he would come to extend his greetings and also get some lettuce. My son said something like, “No, he won’t; he doesn’t know who you are. And he’s only a swan.”
George came, swimming in his elegant way and reached the shore, where I promptly greeted him. Then lettuce. My son never again said, “he’s only a swan.” That swan was George the Mute Swan, my friend. Now, I know people say that you can’t be friends with a swan, or a bird, or a cat, or a dog, or with another species. Why not? Are they not all sentient beings? Who says what a friendship is? Who gets to define its limitations and its boundaries?
This continued for three years. The friendship of George and I. I did not know how old George was. I did not know much about him. But then again, I didn’t have to; some friendships are like that—happy to spend time with each other, even if there is not much talking taking place.
A lovely Memory ❤️. I have so many stories and memories that keep me company. I'm thankful to Substack for allowing me to share some of them.