Layers of Curiosity
I wake up curious every morning.
To me, the trails have become like a familiar (yet magical) series of rooms and hallways. And the concept of Microseasons has morphed from a neat, grid-like almanac into a whimsical Curiosity Cabinet with 72 little drawers. I honestly never know what the next microseason will reveal to me. And I love not knowing!
Check out this strange and beautiful creature that the rain called forth from the North Carolina clay.
The more I learn about this piece of earth, the more I’m in awe of its endless layers and lifeforms. And the more beautiful the work of writing about it is to me.
I’m always learning what blooms where and when, how the light is at different hours, and what the moods of the forest are.
Hiking brings me to the Present. It slows me down as I stop to let my dog linger at all the things that smell good to him. We stop a lot.
I also have a habit of stepping off the narrow trail to let other hikers pass by. In doing so, I’ve seen some incredibly cool natural treasures— things I was lucky to find because I paused to see the details.
Last week I saw this blue and green mushroom!
The more I practice contemplative hiking, the more I’m becoming aware of my own internal landscape and how to creatively respond to my life’s subtle changes. I have my own inner microseasons that shape my energy, thoughts, emotions, and dreams.
Every time I go out for a hike, it’s a chance to check-in with myself, to notice what I notice, and to decompress. As I walk on familiar trails, I enter a timeless space— one that is both peaceful and full of energy.
My own internal microseasons show what is true for me now as revealed against the backdrop of something ancient, timeless, and always in process.
I can savor the good times. And in a difficult microseason? I can try to see it, to be in it, and honor it, and grow from it.
We have a tendency to deny this about ourselves: we are always in a very small window of time. All we have is Now. Bit by bit, we are always changing. In fact, every human life is a series of microseasons. Layers and layers of tiny moments— layers of Now.
The eternal question is not “Who am I?” but rather:
“Who am I— now —in this microseason of my life?”
You and I don’t need to know exactly what’s next; we know that change is inevitable.
We just need to stay Curious.
It’s about Time.
It’s about Beauty.
It’s about Serendipity.
It’s about Presence.
It’s about Composing an ongoing, loving Life Song, layer by layer.
I’m inspired by listening to artists talk about their creative process. One of my favorite sources is the excellent podcast Song Exploder. Yesterday, I re-listened to the REM episode. You might be moved, like I was, listening to Michael Stipe talk about his beloved grandmother and all of the wonderful layers to the song, Try Not to Breathe.