Flowers in the Forest

It’s mid May in this part of the world, yet it already feels like spring is giving way to summer. As I had walked through the forests in the nature park where I work, my reverent excitement at the newness of emergence begins to yield into a steady summer awe. The early yellow bloomers have gone. Pops of color no longer solicit my eyes and heart to delight in novelty. Where once the plants had space to stretch, where each new species to emerge had a temporary moment in the spotlight, now a dense and green thickness abounds. Yes, the forest floor has transformed.

Flowers can live short lives. Those growing in open areas, scorched by the sun, may only hang around a few days before they wither and die. Flowers can also stick around for some time.

In my first spring in Oregon, I learned about the trillium. The flower is of some importance in local culture, its likeness ornamentally used in park logos and its name affixed to trail loops. I knew the name before I knew the flower. The first one I spotted that spring in a local park by my home had me exclaiming as if it were a famous celebrity. I later learned that the cream white petals of the trillium turn crimson when they senesce and die.

It has been a difficult couple of weeks for me, my spouse, and his family. We lost both of his grandmothers (Gram and Mema) five days apart and just before Mother’s Day. The day after Gram died, I took a hike in Forest Park with a friend and happened across several senescing trillium. I couldn’t help but think of them as metaphors for grief.

Just as in the forest, in my heart now the exuberant delights of spring have faded into thickness, to density. I feel everything extra deeply. I think of Gram and Mema as the flowers who have stuck around, both living into their 90s, and feel gratitude for knowing and loving them. I contemplate the burst of life often felt when experiencing the death of a loved one, as if the volume of the world has been turned on high. Whites transforming to crimson hues. Their deaths momentarily painting the world, their lives always remembered.

Beneath My Hiking Shoes

Those of you who have done some hiking in the Pacific Northwest or who consider themselves naturalists in any capacity may be wondering why on earth I would highlight a picture of poison oak for this particular blog. Poison oak, like its east-coast cousin poison ivy, is a much hated plant for the oil it contains. This oil, called urushiol, inflicts nasty, itchy, painful rashes on its sufferers. Well, the reasoning for the picture begins with a different story: the story of a hiking excursion.

I took a mid-week solo trip to the Washington side of the Columbia River Gorge on Wednesday. I had visited this particular area hiking once before (in winter) with a friend and found myself so impressed with the majesty of the ecosystem that I knew a spring return was warranted. After all, it is currently wildflower season in the Pacific Northwest. I still only know a few species of wildflower by sight. So, there was indeed much to observe and to learn.

This particular area boasts vast open grasslands with boulders that seemingly have been dropped from the sky, mixed with small patches of oak forest that pop up anywhere water flows. In winter, the grasses die and the wind paints golden brush strokes over the near empty landscape. On a clear day, trees stand solitary and silhouetted against ocean blue skies. The eastern part of the gorge is known to locals as an oasis of sun from the gloomy clouds of Portland metro. The Labyrinth, as it is known, called my name for many months before I took the trip. I found myself often scanning the weather forecasts around Cascade Locks and Hood River, Oregon for signs of ideal conditions that coincide with my off days. Thus is the life and heart of a hiker.

On this particular Wednesday, the conditions were just right and I had a juicy new audiobook to devour on the three hour round-trip car ride: My Stroke of Insight by Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor. The books I select for my solo hiking trips are often chosen for the themes they may weave into my subconscious. In this way, I gift myself notions to ponder during the hike. I choose them and my hikes carefully. The entire experience is one that I craft for self care, growth, and reflection. I then take my notebook with me and find an ideal place to write. In this case, the reprieve of sun (and freshness, inspiration) from the extended darkness of winter felt necessary and so I was off.

For those of you who have not yet had the pleasure of reading My Stroke of Insight, I will not give away too much. But, I will explain a little about the premise of the book and what it meant to me. The book is written by a neuroscientist who had a stroke in her mid-thirties and who was able to study the deterioration of her brain from the inside out. The book also details her long recovery and the process of relearning to process information through the left hemisphere of her brain. Much of the book focuses on the revelations she experienced as a result of experiencing the world almost exclusively through right brain consciousness and the feeling of connection and oneness that resulted.

For much of my hike, I was fixed on this idea of acknowledging the multitudes that exist within and around our bodies. I let my right brain take over my experience of the hike, noticing thoughts as they came, as if in a walking meditation. At one point, I happened across some poison oak as I took a trail cutoff toward the base of a waterfall. My bare legs grazed the plant before I had the notion to even notice where I walked.

Now, I am immune to the oils of poison ivy and have been since I was a young child. However, I did not know yet with certainty if that same immunity applied to poison oak. Even if it did, I knew better than to be nonchalant about the oils, which could transfer to my loved ones who are not immune.

Deep in a state of observation, this encounter with poison oak got me thinking about the plant in new ways. As my steps became more and more mindful, as I carefully placed each foot for the rest of the walk, I realized the power of this plant to force us humans to consider how we steward the land. What does stewardship look like when every step we take compacts the soil? We are often unconsciously crushing life forms beneath our feet as we walk, plants and insects and the like. How might this plant, poison oak, be a teacher for a more mindful approach to life and to what lies beneath our hiking shoes?

On this hike, I developed a new appreciation for poison oak. Perhaps aided by my immunity, but more likely aided by the wonderful insights of Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor and her enlightening book. I stopped at one point to admire the plant and took the photograph I featured in this blog post. I hope reading this helped you to consider the world a little differently too.

April 2019 Books

I have set a reading goal for the year of 60 books and, so far, I have read 21. I set this overall goal early in the year after having a conversation with my friend and fellow writer, Cheryl. I realized that I could be committing to finishing way more books per year. Previously, I would let a lot of books go half read. In order to meet this goal and to challenge myself this term to set up a curriculum while I am not taking creative writing courses, I have assigned myself the following books for the month of April:

• Not Even Wrong by Paul Collins (nonfiction, memoir) - finished

• Whip Smart by Melissa Febos (nonfiction, memoir) - half finished

• Ghost Fishing edited by Melissa Tuckey (poetry anthology) - have not begun

• Peak Performance by Brad Stulberg (self-help, audiobook) - nearly finished

• Crushing It by Gary Vaynerchuk (self-help, audiobook) - finished, although started earlier in the year

This first month’s “curriculum” is lacking nonfiction craft. My intention this month was to focus on reading the published work of some creative writing professors as well as to finish off some of the audiobooks that have been on my list at the library.

I will be the first to admit that I do not shy away from self-help books and I am also not ashamed to read them (although most of the time I am listening to self-help books on my commute versus reading them). I have anywhere from an hour to hour and a half round trip commute four days a week and I often prefer to fill that time with learning new concepts rather than listening to music. Having books or podcasts to look forward to has exponentially improved my commute experience. I have nothing at all against music, but my mind is often hungry for new information and growth. I often find myself listening to the Rich Roll Podcast when I am not devouring new self-help books.

This April, I am also challenging myself to submit at least one essay or poem to submittable for publication. I have an entire “writing manifestation” checklist to check off which includes this challenge as well as “receive my first acceptance for publication” and “receive my first rejection for publication.” So, either way the submission goes I get to check off two items, one for submitting and one for getting either an acceptance or rejection. I am always reminding myself that failure and rejection are part of the process. What’s the most important is that you actually go out there are do that damn thing!

For May’s curriculum, I am planning to add in at least one book in nonfiction craft. I would also like to include a book of poetry a month and prioritize more nature writing and writers of color in general. If anyone has any nonfiction or poetry suggestions, please feel free to connect with me here. I would love to hear them.

Just Breathe

One of the best things you can do to improve your health and well being is something you are already doing. This simple act not only keeps us all alive, it also determines the difference between living with anxiety, stress, and stagnation versus living a life of peace, relaxation, and growth. Breathing is an activity your body performs on average sixteen times per minute, 23,000 times a day, and over 8 million times per year.

Breath is governed by the part of the nervous system that typically operates outside the realm of conscious control, regulating unconscious processes such as digestion, heart-rate, perspiration, and salivation. But, respiration is unique in that it works together with the conscious mind.  Ultimately, we have overriding control over this important process because without it, even for a matter of minutes, we die or suffer permanent brain damage.  

This usually unconscious part of the nervous system, called the autonomic nervous system, divides itself into two completely different sets of reactions in your body – sympathetic (fight or flight) and parasympathetic (rest and digest) responses. When you feel stressed or anxious, your sympathetic response kicks in and readies your body to evade a perceived threat. Alternatively, when you feel safe and unthreatened, your parasympathetic nervous system takes control. We need both of these systems to thrive. Recall the reactions that happened within your body the last time you almost were in an accident – your heart begins racing, you mind is hyper focused on survival. The sympathetic response is fine-tuned to help you respond in the best way possible in the face of true danger. However, it is not a sustainable state in which the body can remain. Learning how to bring your body back to rest, back to a parasympathetic response, is an important tool for stress release, full body health, and happiness.

Yoga, meditation, and regular exercise all help relieve stress in part or in full because they regulate breathing and signal the body to relax and enter a parasympathetic state. One of the eight limbs of yoga, called pranayama, consists of breathing exercises meant to extend (or draw out) life energy. Prana is the described as the vital force, the life energy, and is gained through inhalation. Likewise, elimination and clearing of spent energy happens with exhalation. This is called apana. Meditation often involves attention to the breath and a single-pointed focus on observing the breath without judgement. Sometimes in meditation breaths or inhalations/exhalations are even counted. Cardiovascular exercise also often involves breath attention and synchronization.

A simple pranayama to begin to grow more mindful of your breath is called ujjayi (victorious) breath. Ujjayi is also called ocean breath because it allows the breath to become audible and can sounds like ocean waves. Ujjayi is practiced through constricting and narrowing the throat. This technique is best demonstrated by the action your throat would perform to fog a mirror. However, ujjayi is usually practiced with a closed mouth and breath enters and leaves the body through the nose. Try first to observe your breath as it occurs naturally and then move into synchronizing in and out breaths when practicing this pranayama.

Mindful breathing is an effective and relaxing tool that can quite literally change your life. It can be discretely and seamlessly incorporated into daily routines such as commuting to work, showering, or even tying your shoes. And you can call upon its power and grace in stressful, yet non-life threatening situations. Try for yourself committing to a practice of mindful breathing. Whether you choose yoga, meditation, regular exercise, daily breath work in conjunction with your normal routine, or a combination of these, your body and mind serve to benefit from regular attention to the nourishing, life-sustaining, and all-important breath.