The earth has music for those who listen - William Shakespeare
Last week I was walking across a very busy, noisy, congested seaside caravan park, surrounded by distractions (screaming kids, dogs, BBQs) -- when a breeze blew. For no explicable reason, out of nowhere, my senses shrank down to a single point of focus. Everything around me melted me away. The noise, the people, the activity. I sensed the breeze moving across the sand dunes from the open sea, and felt a stillness in the earth beneath my feet. I felt the natural quietness that had existed in that place for thousands of years -- the hush of the wind, the sigh of the ocean, the silent circling of gulls, the heartbeat of the dunes. All this while surrounded by school holiday craziness. It was like switching between two dimensions: a colourful, noisy, immediate, man-made world, and a calm, timeless, healing, natural one.
What I find so interesting is that despite the fact we often forget about it, this second 'hidden' landscape is always there -- even in the most hectic urban areas. It lies still, hidden, beneath. It has never gone anywhere. We haven't wiped it out with our giant shopping malls, concrete freeways and sprawling complexes. If we take a moment to stop and breathe in all of those environments, the clues are still there. It's still entirely possible to align with the unique natural landscape we are standing on. Nature has its own heartbeat; a type of pulsing universal rhythm, a sighing quietness, a deeper primal connection. By practising the Aboriginal art of 'deep listening' (Dadirri), we can not only reconnect with these sacred rhythms, patterns and cycles, but bring tremendous clearing and healing energy back to our own selves -- and our personal eco-systems.
If you struggle with meditation or would simply like to include more Me Time in your week, click here.