Lessons from Nature: The Truth of Multiple Realities

Autumn in the valley has been bright, clear and beautiful, so much so that it has been difficult to take care of day-to-day tasks and chores because all I want to do is be outside basking in the perfect sunshine while it lasts. Having said that, yesterday the rains came and all I wanted to do was go walking in the rain, so perhaps I'm just being particularly good at procrastinating or particularly good at enjoying the weather?

 

I have found in the last couple of years that my preferred places to walk are the ones that have some topographical semblance to what feels to me quite "English". This time of year, when the air is crisp, clear and fragrant, makes me long for the English countryside more than ever. Romping around rugged Dartmoor, seeking shelter in ancient pubs, warmth beside glowing fireplaces, and magic in every hedgerow, gnarled oak and rushing river.

I sniffed the rain yesterday, donned some wool and a jacket that is definitely not waterproof and headed out. Another thing I like to do when out walking is talk to myself - I'll put in my headphones and record my verbal ramblings - I think of it as a form of journaling, and it's been a practice that has offered many insights and awareness. 

So whilst I was out strolling, recording and watching the landscape become engulfed by the broodiest and most beautiful storm clouds I have ever seen something fell into place: looking south, east and north the skies were still clear, golden to the south and azure right behind me to the east, whereas west - right in front of me - a blanket of fog and rain yawned over the mountains.

Looking about in each direction something that I have never before been able to grasp before suddenly made sense - that there can be many truths taking place at the same time. That different realities can exist in tandem. It helped me understand and appreciate more how we each carry our own versions of reality, how we experience truth in ways that might differ from one another, and that, just like the vast and multiplicitous sky, is possible, plausible, and to be entirely expected.

I think what it really offered was an awareness and acceptance that others experience things differently from myself and that everything does not need to be agreed upon according to one person's version of reality. It was an invitation to be more open-minded, curious and accepting, lessons which for me are valuable indeed.

It has been a while now that I have felt quite disconnected from nature and all the different entities that I usually feel very able to connect with. I was very glad to have the rain pour down on me yesterday while the sun shone nearby. 

Finally I turned around to go home and the eastern sky had this final piece to say: