Spiritual Connection with Nature When Nature Struggles

When Nature isn’t There for You

At the end of The Reset gathering this month, someone asked a great question – What do you do when nature isn’t there for you anymore?

They were referring to the way that the recent hot and dry weather in central and southern UK has left much of the landscape looking tired and dried out – not providing the lush, green expanse that we might retreat into to feel refreshed and connected.

It was a question that resonated with me, as nature is often where I go when I need to be restored, and part of what keeps me in balance day to day. I walk around my local park each morning, and run through the countryside several times a week, and this is a big part of how I connect with myself and God and where I feel most at home; my spiritual connection with nature.

So what do we do when the grass is brown, the water is gone and the trees are losing their leaves?

What if there is a struggle where we want to find only peace?

As we talked about this together, we found ourselves asking a different question. Instead of, “What do I do when nature isn’t there for me?” what if we asked instead, “How can I be there for nature?”

As I took my morning walk the next day, asking myself this different question, something changed in me. I felt an overwhelming sympathy for the trees, the leaves, the ground. I felt an invitation to be with it all – even though I can’t fix it or change it – there was something of value just to be there with the struggling and the suffering and not turn away. I wasn’t receiving the usual sense of spaciousness and comfort from the landscape, but a different kind of connection was emerging which was also very precious.

A different kind of spiritual connection with nature

I was reminded of St Francis of Assisi, who in his Canticle of the Creatures referred to the Sun as his brother, and the Moon, Water, and the Earth as his sister. We are intimately connected with the world around us and we are a part of it, rather than separate from it.

I wondered if I do something similar with parts of myself – the parts which might feel dry, depleted, burnt out, or hard to look at. I notice my tendency to want to avoid or abandon them, or rush to fix them – similar to how I have felt about the sun-worn nature around me.

What if we can simply be there with these parts of ourselves – in the same way that we could be there for the natural world around us, when it is under pressure?

These uncomfortable, empty places – like the desert – can be a place of wisdom and of encounter, where we might find something deeper as we remain with what is difficult and suffering before we quickly move on or ignore it.

Of course, there is a place to be more active and fight for nature – as well as occasions where we need to make changes in our lives and move into new seasons. Paying attention to suffering does not mean accepting it as inevitable or turning away from action where action is needed. And yet – could there also be an invitation to a quieter response, one of simply being with – which can also apply to the way we treat ourselves, and the parts of ourselves we try to hide from?

A few questions.

• Is there somewhere nearby which may have signs of struggle (whether from weather or somewhere simply neglected or run down) where you could walk slowly?

• What is it like to walk there – paying attention, and simply noticing and being with this place?

And then:

• Is there a part of yourself that might need the same gentle awareness?

Often the parts of ourselves we most want to avoid are the parts that most need compassionate attention.

Spiritual direction offers a space to explore those places safely. A place to notice what we might otherwise rush past, and to learn how to remain present to ourselves, and to our lives, with greater gentleness and honesty.