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There is a certain satisfaction in hauling skis through wet snow. I don't mean at the time, for as I discovered, there isn't really much else going on besides grunting and wondering why on earth I chose the deep north side of the slope to traverse.
My hip flexors were yelling at another bad decision, but at least I had the pleasure of knowing another grunting companion was working his way through the aspen trees in the heaviness of our January (!) spring conditions on the Mesa.
By the time we thankfully got back to the cabin, I was tiredly aware of sore thighs and a good sweat, but an even greater contentedness of a fine adventure in the wilds of nature. We wanted to see a moose, and the moose were there, scat, tracks and all, mocking us the whole while. But no moose. Instead we were presented with a chickadee and a woodpecker, and that turned out to be just fine.
At the cabin, I found an old guest book that had an entry from back in winter 2005, the year my grandmother passed, when I had made a solo trip up there shortly after she died. Resting after our excursion, I recalled that this was the only grandmother I had ever had; dad's mom died when he was a young man before I was born. I loved that woman, and as I write this nature-laden article, I'm smiling at the irony — she used to enjoy watching me play video games over my shoulder, fascinated by the on-screen adventures unfolding. I found that out only after she had advanced macular degeneration, and could no longer see the screen. As much as I love being outside, I still enjoy the thought of my grandmother and I playing video games together. I think she would have liked “Adventure” more than “Space Invaders.” My friend caught me reminiscing in the guest book, and suggested that it was a good idea to spend time in the closets of the mind now and then. I liked that, and it was nice to remember grandma in the quiet and reflective Colorado sun. Somehow, it all fit in that moment.
I know that nature has an inherent ability to help the body heal itself. As a naturopathic doctor, I often use the healing power of nature to facilitate a recovery process, whether as an herb, a powerful hydrotherapy, or a suggestion to get one's bare feet in the grass after a trauma. Grief in particular takes a winding course of its own, and I felt a touch of its presence as I remembered grandma fondly. I recall the Lutheran minister at my uncle's funeral, who gently reminded us to “remember to grieve, or otherwise it'll come out crooked.”
When's the last time you chose a path, and like a river, allowed yourself to get lost along its watercourse way? The author and medical intuitive Carolyn Myss said, “There's no time like the present to ‘get lost.' Realize that a path has many expressions: exploring creativity, indulging intuition, pursuing a relationship. Choose one, and get lost on the pathless Path today.” I like this touch of wisdom. I have gone to the river when I needed to help, and I reckon that many a river has helped tears to flow, ideas to spawn, and romances to blossom. There's healing power there.
I have noticed that sometimes the best prescription is no prescription at all. I once met a longtime naturopath whose card advertised his name, phone number, and in neatly-printed text, “Do Nothing Medicine.” I remember that when I feel compelled to prescribe something, ANYTHING, for someone who is obviously suffering in my office. Now I don't think he really meant do nothing whatsoever, but in alignment with Do No Harm, to remember that less can be more. Maybe as simple as less time in the office, naturally leading to more time with family.
And how about the offerings of Mother Earth? Well food, starting with the milk from mother's breast, is a perfect offering of nature. There is nothing in the realm of food that does not at its origins begin as something natural, no matter how modified, hybridized or trans-zombified it is. I'm not calling chemicals food here, as I do not consider Nutrasweet, Olestra, or FD&C Yellow #5 (which is a coal tar derivative) anything of the sort. That probably explains why aspartame is the #1 most reactive food additive, why it gets the most phone calls every year to the FDA hotline for food additive reactions.
Instead, I'm talking about the healing potential of our gardens, our spice cabinets, about how food is medicine for us. Re-acquainting people to fresh, clean water, or the deeply healing properties of dark, leafy green vegetables like kale, chard or spinach, can sometimes offer the deepest of healing. The next time you make soup, put in some rosemary or ginger and you'll boost your body's ability to recover from inflammation x10. I mean simple medicine. Think an apple a day, a one-mile walk, or a good book in a sunny window, and you'll realize the healing power of nature I'm talking about.
My hip flexors were yelling at another bad decision, but at least I had the pleasure of knowing another grunting companion was working his way through the aspen trees in the heaviness of our January (!) spring conditions on the Mesa.
By the time we thankfully got back to the cabin, I was tiredly aware of sore thighs and a good sweat, but an even greater contentedness of a fine adventure in the wilds of nature. We wanted to see a moose, and the moose were there, scat, tracks and all, mocking us the whole while. But no moose. Instead we were presented with a chickadee and a woodpecker, and that turned out to be just fine.
At the cabin, I found an old guest book that had an entry from back in winter 2005, the year my grandmother passed, when I had made a solo trip up there shortly after she died. Resting after our excursion, I recalled that this was the only grandmother I had ever had; dad's mom died when he was a young man before I was born. I loved that woman, and as I write this nature-laden article, I'm smiling at the irony — she used to enjoy watching me play video games over my shoulder, fascinated by the on-screen adventures unfolding. I found that out only after she had advanced macular degeneration, and could no longer see the screen. As much as I love being outside, I still enjoy the thought of my grandmother and I playing video games together. I think she would have liked “Adventure” more than “Space Invaders.” My friend caught me reminiscing in the guest book, and suggested that it was a good idea to spend time in the closets of the mind now and then. I liked that, and it was nice to remember grandma in the quiet and reflective Colorado sun. Somehow, it all fit in that moment.
I know that nature has an inherent ability to help the body heal itself. As a naturopathic doctor, I often use the healing power of nature to facilitate a recovery process, whether as an herb, a powerful hydrotherapy, or a suggestion to get one's bare feet in the grass after a trauma. Grief in particular takes a winding course of its own, and I felt a touch of its presence as I remembered grandma fondly. I recall the Lutheran minister at my uncle's funeral, who gently reminded us to “remember to grieve, or otherwise it'll come out crooked.”
When's the last time you chose a path, and like a river, allowed yourself to get lost along its watercourse way? The author and medical intuitive Carolyn Myss said, “There's no time like the present to ‘get lost.' Realize that a path has many expressions: exploring creativity, indulging intuition, pursuing a relationship. Choose one, and get lost on the pathless Path today.” I like this touch of wisdom. I have gone to the river when I needed to help, and I reckon that many a river has helped tears to flow, ideas to spawn, and romances to blossom. There's healing power there.
I have noticed that sometimes the best prescription is no prescription at all. I once met a longtime naturopath whose card advertised his name, phone number, and in neatly-printed text, “Do Nothing Medicine.” I remember that when I feel compelled to prescribe something, ANYTHING, for someone who is obviously suffering in my office. Now I don't think he really meant do nothing whatsoever, but in alignment with Do No Harm, to remember that less can be more. Maybe as simple as less time in the office, naturally leading to more time with family.
And how about the offerings of Mother Earth? Well food, starting with the milk from mother's breast, is a perfect offering of nature. There is nothing in the realm of food that does not at its origins begin as something natural, no matter how modified, hybridized or trans-zombified it is. I'm not calling chemicals food here, as I do not consider Nutrasweet, Olestra, or FD&C Yellow #5 (which is a coal tar derivative) anything of the sort. That probably explains why aspartame is the #1 most reactive food additive, why it gets the most phone calls every year to the FDA hotline for food additive reactions.
Instead, I'm talking about the healing potential of our gardens, our spice cabinets, about how food is medicine for us. Re-acquainting people to fresh, clean water, or the deeply healing properties of dark, leafy green vegetables like kale, chard or spinach, can sometimes offer the deepest of healing. The next time you make soup, put in some rosemary or ginger and you'll boost your body's ability to recover from inflammation x10. I mean simple medicine. Think an apple a day, a one-mile walk, or a good book in a sunny window, and you'll realize the healing power of nature I'm talking about.
