Category: Nature’s Wisdom

Migrations, Nature’s Wisdom, Seasonal Rhythms

A Season of Transitions

Stacey Hayes

On Molting & Renewal

The past few weeks, I’ve noticed the process of molting in the bird world. The Cardinal shedding his head feathers. The Carolina Wren hopping around without a tail feather. And all sorts of fledglings born earlier this summer growing in their adult feathers.

Stubby. Shaggy. Raggedy.

These are not the first words that usually come to mind when thinking about songbirds. They look awkward and not quite like themselves, yet, they are exactly what they need to be in this season. They are perfectly imperfect.

Molting is a process they can’t control. It’s governed by circadian rhythms, the changing light, and the turning of seasons. Molting is a season of vulnerability for birds. Feathers are used not only for flight but for camouflage, insulation, sun protection, swimming, and making sounds. Birds take care as best they can during this time—conserving their energy to grow new feathers, eating more protein, and seeking shelter. Though arduous, molting is a regenerative natural rhythm that prepares birds for what’s to come—be it migration or colder weather.

Molt stems from the Old English mutian meaning to change.

I often think of September as an in-between season. A time of change and transition. Routines and rhythms begin to shift. Our minds, hearts, and bodies begin to adapt to seasonal changes. As my own feathers feel a bit weathered and worn, I’m reminded that letting go of what no longer resonates with my values or priorities makes space for new growth and opportunities. Midlife (or whatever life season you may be in) is an opportune time to embrace the wisdom embodied in cycles of release and renewal — as autumn will soon remind us in a myriad of ways.

In the meantime, we can take our cues from birds and nourish ourselves in body and spirit during times of transition. Making space to rest and restore, releasing what no longer serves us. Because molting, like most seasonal rhythms, can guide us and point us toward hope.

“I watch the bald Cardinals feeding their fledglings, and I know they feel awful. I remind myself of what I cannot remind them–that raggedness is just the first step toward a new season of flight.”

~ Margaret Renkl, The Comfort of Crows

for reflection

You may want to use these questions as writing prompts for journaling or perhaps just to ponder while watching birds.

~ How may I meet my own “molting” process with compassion, gentleness, and patience?

~ What wisdom may I discover in cycles of release and renewal?

ways to support molting and migrating birds

~ Offer protein-rich foods such as seeds and suet.

~ Hang roost houses as the nights become cooler.

~ Turn off unnecessary lights, especially between 10pm-6am as these can disorient birds migrating at night.

All Seasons, Contemplative Practices, Ecospirituality, Nature’s Wisdom, Seasonal Rhythms, Seasonal Wisdom

Soulful Micro Seasons

Stacey Hayes

A dear friend recently shared how late summer can feel stagnant and uninspiring. This is a person who thrives in new scenery and vast landscapes. I reminded him that a possible antidote is to connect with the wonder and subtle changes happening right under our noses—in our own habitats.

It’s human nature to become desensitized to the things we see every day and to forget to appreciate the life teeming in our backyards. The framework of micro seasons can help us rediscover the small wonders and micro changes unfolding before us. The tiniest mushroom that wasn’t there yesterday. The sunflower that has finally opened after a season of growth. The figs that have ripened after an abundance of rain and that are being enjoyed by a host of critters. The poke berry that’s turned from green to burgundy. 

Micro seasons are an alternative way of measuring time. Of deepening our seasonal wisdom. Micro seasons celebrate life cycles and the transient nature of things. They also offer comfort and reassurance in seasonal patterns and predictable rhythms. They are an opportunity to honor the sacred in the familiar.

The ancient Japanese calendar had 72 micro seasons lasting approximately five days each. Here they are for August: 

August 3-7: Great rains sometimes fall

August 8-12: Cool winds blow

August 13-17: Evening cicadas sing

August 18-22: Thick fog descends

August 23-27: Cotton flowers open

But of course our own micro seasons will be unique depending on our habitats and what captures our attention. This practice can be a form of observation, reflection, and devotion. As I look back on the micro seasons I’ve experienced in past weeks — the spring trout lilies, the periodical cicadas, the June fireflies, the wildflowers of July — my sense of gratitude swells. These moments are also touchstones to what was going on in my life at that time. Micro seasons are mileposts on the inward and outward journey as we mark the passage of time in relationship to the natural world.

an invitation

You may want to embrace the practice of micro seasons as a form of self-care that offers solace, wisdom, and wonder.

How do you identify a micro season?

You begin by noticing. By being curious.

By observing your local habitat — on walks, while looking out your window, or spending time in your yard or neighborhood.

As you slow down, notice what shimmers and shines for you.

What captures your attention, senses, and imagination?

What is a key moment or pattern being revealed in the natural world this week? 

What is delighting you?

What do you want to learn more about?

These are the questions that guide your discovery of a micro season. Then, once you’ve identified one, you may want to document it in a way that is meaningful for you—a short description, a series of photos, a drawing, a journal entry, or a conversation.

a blessing

May the micro seasons you experience help you to behold the gifts offered each day. May cultivating this practice foster deep seeing, deep feeling, and deep expression as we honor the unfolding seasons—day after day, week after week.

Awe, Cicadas, Nature’s Wisdom, Seasonal Wisdom

A Season of Awe

Stacey Hayes

on cicadas and complex emotions

It started as a distant drone. Then, I noticed them—the highly anticipated cicadas—clinging to a pine tree on a walk. Many lying still and stunned, newly hatched from their exoskeletons on our neighborhood trails. Over the next few days, my walks took on a new purpose as I moved them off the trail and out of harm’s way from runners and cyclists.

Their exoskeletons decorated fences, the undersides of leaves, birdhouses, and just about anything else they could cling to. By week’s end they fluttered among the tree canopies. My son and I clapped in celebration as the wings of a hatched cicada took to the treetops.

Last month the celestial stage was graced with a solar eclipse. This month the terrestrial stage debuts a historic emergence of two broods of periodical cicadas. (Annual cicadas hatch every year. These periodical cicadas live as nymphs underground for 13-17 years).

As these marvels of nature rose from the ground, I noticed a variety of feelings rising in me. There was wonderment, excitement, a sense of protection. There was also dread, fear, and irritation as I anticipated the imminent noise they would make. The relative peace and quiet of my deck would soon be overcome with a constant drone of two layers of sound—the grinding of annual cicadas and the siren-like rattling of the periodical cicadas. Females clicking their wings; males creating vibrations in their abdomens. The spring bird song that brought delight in recent weeks would be partially eclipsed.

Was I feeling ambivalence? Or just a bag of mixed feelings? After some reflection, I was able to name my experience as awe. Awe. Awesome. Awful. All of these words swirled around in my consciousness.

Awe is usually considered a positive emotion but is an alchemy of many emotions—amazement, wonder, surprise, reverence, and fear. Awe is derived from the Old English egemeaning “terror, dread.” Awe is expansive as we hold multiple feelings at once. It moves us to reflect on the world and truths beyond ourselves. 

The range of emotions we experience on a daily basis can be deep and wide. And we can have contradictory feelings simultaneously. Cicadas can be both amazing and annoying at the same time. But when approached with compassion and curiosity, they are in fact awe-inspiring.

Awe:

an emotion variously combining dread, veneration, and wonder inspired by authority or by the sacred or sublime. (Merriam Webster)

Awe keeps the company of other complex emotions, including envy, guilt, and hope. These combine at least two basic emotions (such as happiness, sadness, and anger) and require self-reflection. We can also meet these complex emotions with compassion and curiosity.  Offering gentleness to ourselves as we ponder the uncertainties, ask the questions, seek answers, and discover more mystery. We may also offer gratitude  for the depth of emotions that we experience as human beings as well as for the things that evoke awe.

life cycles ~ abundance ~ metamorphosis

Nature is a great teacher. And this season of cicadas teaches me about awe and beyond as my inner and outer landscapes continue to intermingle. I am in awe of these periodical cicadas as they embody the passage of time and longer cyclical rhythms. For 13 and 17 years, they co-existed in my local habitat underground, feeding on the sap in tree roots. They embody abundance as they emerge en masse—an offering of nourishment to a variety of wildlife. The bluebird hatchlings in the nest box in our front yard. The squirrel who loves to drink from our birdbath and sun on our deck.

Like many winged creatures, cicadas embody the miracle of metamorphosis, reminding me of the transformations I’ve experienced through my life stages. I’ve felt as if I’ve shed my own exoskeleton of sorts and emerged stunned with new wings multiple times. Particularly as a newlywed, then through profound grief, new motherhood, and now in mid-life. My metamorphoses will continue as will the life cycles of cicadas.

In the meantime, the birds continue to sing. The baby bunnies continue to munch on clover in the side yard. The dragonflies continue to dart around in search of mosquitoes. And for this season, I will retreat inside more where it’s a bit quieter and continue to rescue newly hatched cicadas on my daily walks.

an invitation

You may want to reflect on moments in your life when you’ve felt awe. Try to name the myriad of feelings you experienced.

Perhaps you’d like to extend gratitude for these moments and for the depth and breadth of emotions you possess.

You may be led to express these reflections in the form of a poem, a journal entry, or blessing for the experiences that evoked awe in you.