Naked in Eden, by Robin Easton, is one of the most moving, inspiring, and also challenging books that I’ve ever read.

It pulses with a rare light that shines through in unexpected ways as the author learns to meet — and welcome — the beauty and also the seemingly frightening creatures and events that are part of life in a rainforest.

The book tells the story of the hero’s journey – that is to say, heroine’s journey — which Robin made when she went to live with her husband in a remote area of Australia’s Daintree Rainforest.

A place of freedom

In the course of her wild and magnificent adventure, Robin came to a place of freedom in herself eloquently described in the book’s closing words: “The moist smell of damp earth wrapped itself around me, my guardian as I crossed the field at sunset. Miles from nowhere, and I’m finally free.”

The myth of “The Hero’s Journey”, refocused in recent years by Joseph Campbell, is perhaps the most ancient and accurate blueprint for a truly meaningful and happy life that we have.

It requires, of course, that we leave the “ordinary world,” and accept the call of the unknown — a destiny and promise which we may feel in our hearts, but which requires courage and persistence to become known.

The rainforest as intelligent being

Listen to Robin as she describes this process of transformation at work: “Once I understood, deep in my body, that I dwelled in the arms of a highly intelligent, creative, and harmonious being — the rainforest — I learned to listen more and judge less.”

One of her amazing encounters in this wild, terrifying, yet magnificent environment involved a 12-foot-long python and a tiny bushlark.

The bushlark was a female, with three beautiful eggs in her care. The python — as Easton watched — was gliding inch by inch in one fluid motion toward the lark and its nest.

The proud death of a bushlark

The author writes: “The bird darted and dove at the snake’s diamond shaped head. Her wings flapped wildly. The long, elegant snake slid closer. Undaunted. Unhurried.

“The entire rainforest seemed to hold its breath and listen for the outcome of this life-and-death confrontation. Every blade of grass, every tiny insect and bird, every bit of breathing life froze.

“Silence hung nearly undisturbed in the early morning air as the forest watched and waited to absorb the lark’s inevitable death. Fear bulged her eyes. Her cries grew more anxious as she sought to lead the scrub python away from her young.”

“The most beautiful song I’ve ever heard”

What happened next? The lark stopped trying to avert catastrophe, and instead, standing perfectly still, “tipped back her head and sang the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard. A rich melodious tinkling, clear and sweet, floated on the air and echoed off the trees down in the spring. The death song. Or perhaps the sweet song of life. I heard her voice as if she spoke directly to me.

“If I must die than I shall live my last seconds to the fullest. I’ll die bursting with life, my song upon the wind. The world shall know of my beauty.”

Was the snake evil? Of course not. It was simply doing what it needed to do to survive. One of Robin’s learning experiences in the rainforest — one of the levers of her transformation — was the realization that, as she puts it, “evil does not exist in this forest.”

The courage of all life

Easton shares with her reader a new understanding that honors the courage of all life “in many ways so fragile and yet in every way, highly intelligent and relentlessly tenacious.”

I think you should read Naked in Eden. It’s a great read in its own right. Of course, if it makes you see life a bit differently, or opens your eyes to life’s mystery and wonder and essential goodness — or if it stirs a remembrance in your heart of your own hero’s journey – why, that’s a bonus, isn’t it?

PS. If you’d like to check out Robin Easton’s blog and all the great material she has to offer there, please click here.

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How Robin Easton found freedom in the Australian Rainforest is a post from: The Happy Seeker - Living with grace at any age

Where’s your special place?

Where do you  go to  find some happiness and relaxation and peace?

For my Dad, I’m sure it was his local pub. My wife, JoAnn, would probably say her quilting room.

For me, I love being with Nature. It doesn’t have to be an exotic place faraway — just a little bit of Nature will do, a tree, a creek, or a plot of flowers in a park or city street that’s handy and easily accessible…

It helps, of course, if my special place is beautiful. But how can it not be beautiful? We are talking about Nature, and the natural world is beautiful even when surrounded by garbage or zillion tons of concrete.

The important thing, I have found, is to build an increasing sense of love and appreciation for my special place over time. This isn’t hard to do, because when you reconnect with Nature, you reconnect with yourself — and it’s wonderful.

You discover a new sense of connection with the fountain of peace and happiness bubbling up every moment from the depth of your being.

How a creek gave me peace

I lived for many years in a small village in British Columbia, where amongst other things I was editor of the local newspaper for a while.

It was a lot of work at times, and I still remember the relief I felt one day when I finally finished putting together a special tourist edition that I thought would never get done.

To say I was drained would have been putting it mildlly. As soon as the job was finished I walked to a nearby park and found a special place beside a creek where I had been going for years.

I threw myself down on my back on the grass, stretched out my arms — and breathed in the beauty of the surroundings and the sweet summer air.

Do people say Heaven is after we die? I think it’s here already, if I have eyes open to see it.

The sanctuary of our own authentic presence

I have found nourishment and communion with Nature all my life.

There is a paradox here, mind you. In my latter years, I have learned that in one sense we don’t have to go anywhere.

All we need to do is to be still for a few moments, and hear the serene voice of our own authentic presence calling to us, undismayed by the noise and anguish of the world.

The healing power of Nature has blessed me in so many ways. But what works for you? Where do you go for healing and happiness and restoration?

Please share.

The lines are open…

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Where’s your special place? is a post from: The Happy Seeker - Living with grace at any age

Trust God – the one true being back of all things — because it is the very base of all true power, happiness and well-being.

I’m reminded of this simple truth each morning when I step outside to admire the magnificent blue spruce tree that grows just outside our front door.

There are at least five ways in which this noble tree teaches me and inspires me. I thought I would outline them for you because I believe they are very relevant to us as we seek to find our place or keep our footing in this rapidly changing world.

1. It does not resist life.

When the weather is kind, and the air is still, the blue spruce tree is also still, and peaceful — unmoving.

But the tree trusts God. It is not attached to peacefulness. When a storm blows up — as can happen very quickly here in the foothills of the Rockies — its branches move effortlessly back and forth, offering no resistance to even the fiercest gusts.

 2. It is content to be where it is.

The close proximity of this beautiful tree was a big plus for me when we first considered buying our new home.

How glad and thankful I am that it trusts God and is content to prosper and grow where it is planted. Because of this I know that the blue spruce tree will still be there this evening when I go outside and sit on my bench again to admire it.

Even so, let us trust God and grow where we are planted – in the fertile soil of our own timeless, untouchable being.

 3. It is persistent.

Because it trusts God, the blue spruce tree — one of my best friends in all the natural world — just keeps growing no matter what.

But we have a responsibility to keep growing too, don’t we?

4. It connects earth and sky.

The blue spruce tree is a bridge between earth and sky. It reminds me that this is my purpose also — to trust God in my living, and be a bridge between the world of spirit and the external world.

 5. Last but not least — the tree inspires by its presence.

What draws me to the blue spruce? Why is it so beautiful? Why does it evoke in me such strong feelings of love and admiration?

This tree is utterly mute insofar as words go. It inspires by its presence –  something sweet, strong, and unconquerable, characterized by love and trust and respect for a larger whole that ultimately is indefinable.

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Trust God: 5 things we can learn from a blue spruce tree is a post from: The Happy Seeker - Living with grace at any age

Our house was built in 1981. There are two large trees in the backyard, no doubt planted at that date. One is a cottonwood — huge, masculine, towering over our tri-level house. The cottonwood tree is rugged. It has to be. Cottonwoods are prone to damage in storms, and we get quite a few during the year.

The other tree is so close to the cottonwood they almost touch. It’s a linden tree, graceful, feminine, and verdant with the most gorgeous blossoms and leaves in the spring. I could never prove it of course, but I know the two trees are aware of each other’s existence, and take comfort in their proximity to each other.

A family of squirrels inhabits these two trees. Sometimes they cross from one tree to the other in a dazzling aerobatic leap from one branch to another. Sometimes they travel by a more prosaic route, walking delicately along the top of the backyard fence like a model walking down a runway. Breakfast is around seven, when I put out peanuts at the base of the linden tree.

Of course, other creatures come for breakfast too, including a flock of blue jays. One of them is always on watch when I step out of the house in the morning with peanuts in hand, and immediately signals the rest of the family.

I call one of the squirrels “Edward.” He is a friendly, sociable little creature. I know him by the way he behaves and by the fur on his front, which gleams almost white in the sun as he stands upright like a statue, front paws folded as he waits for my arrival.

Goodness. We have so many creatures in our backyard. We have a rabbit, who has been coming around ever since he was a baby. He (or she) is fairly big now, and enjoys JoAnn’s bread just as much as the grass in the yard. We have flickers, and chickadees, and other kinds of birds. A large family of sparrows arrives each morning from we know not where and takes up residence in the lilac bush that grows just in front of our kitchen window.

It doesn’t seem to bother the sparrows at all when we peer at them through the kitchen window. They chatter and chirp away amongst themselves between short trips to the feeder, somewhat aware of us, I think, but unconcerned because of the glass between us.

A raven drops by every now and again for a drink or some bread. Once in awhile a fox walks casually across the yard, never to be seen again. And so it goes.

How rich and abundant is this one life that we share with trees, with animals, with each other, with the sea, with the stars. The forms come and go, of course, our own included. Even the sun dies, as I was reminded the other day when I visited Eckhart Tolle’s website.

Emotions whirl. Troubled thoughts and happy thoughts rush through our lives. But the one who we truly are is not touched by any of it.

Let me be true to the truth at the core of my being just as the cottonwood and the squirrel and the linden tree are true to their truth.

Let me not deny my eternal heredity. Let me be at home in the stillness and peace of my being just as the squirrel is at home in the branches of the linden tree.

Let us trust the timeless Presence that is in us all, from whence all life comes.

Trust life — like the cottonwood and the squirrel is a post from: The Happy Seeker - Living with grace at any age

I love dogs. JoAnn’s daughter Sherrie says I am “dog-deprived.” Since, for various reasons, it’s not practical for JoAnn and me to keep a dog, I found my own way around this problem.

I go to the beautiful Benson Park Sculpture Garden here in Loveland, where most days I can be reasonably sure that I will meet up with a friendly dog owner and, hopefully, a friendly dog also.

So it was the other day when I went to the park for a walk. Just as I was getting out of the car, I saw a woman walking nearby with a most remarkable looking animal. It was a large white dog of a kind I hadn’t seen before. I noticed, as I jumped smartly out of the car and began walking briskly toward the dog, that the owner had a thick leash wrapped tightly wrapped around her wrist. It seemed a good idea to me.

“Hi,” I said. “What kind of dog is that, please?”

The woman stopped, and with a friendly smile — most dog owners are friendly — replied, “He’s a Great Pyrenee.”

“What’s his name?”

“Cashmere.”

“Is he friendly?”

“Yes, he’s very friendly, very gentle,” the woman said, as I bent down and patted Cashmere’s head and admired his humongously thick white coat. “In fact I’m training him as a therapy dog. But they are guard dogs primarily – they can be strong and fearless when necessary.”

Cashmere accepted my petting, and enjoyed it – a little bit. He kept his poise, in other words. I could see a gentle and calm demeanor expressing through every pore of his being – though I was in no doubt at all that he would be a very formidable force if necessary

Sherrie, who knows about dogs, told me later on the phone that the Great Pyrenee can face a mountain lion. She said two friends keep Great Pyrenees to guard their llamas. And indeed, I read on the Internet, “Against coyotes, foxes, and even wolves the Pyrenean Mountain Dog can overpower multiple opponents and hold even larger numbers at bay. With larger predators such as the mountain lion they have been known to hold their own one-on-one.”

Elsewhere on the internet I read: “His general demeanor is one of quiet composure, both patient and tolerant. He is strong willed, independent and somewhat reserved, yet attentive, fearless and loyal.”

There is a story of a “Pyr” giving her life to successfully protect “her” child from a bear.

Ultimately, of course, real strength has little to do with size, and everything to do with character — a gracious, fearless quality of character.

True strength does not need to tell the world how strong it is. It knows it is strong, and so can afford to be gentle.

What a pleasure it was to meet Cashmere and see a remarkable illustration of this ancient truth that is surely very important to our times.

The truly strong can afford to be gentle is a post from: The Happy Seeker - Living with grace at any age