Archive for nature

Endigar 1074

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 26, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Oct 24:

The process of recovery in Al-Anon has been likened to peeling an onion. We peel away a layer at a time, often shedding a few tears as we do.

But recovery always makes me think of the bark of a birch tree. The birch’s bark is necessary for protection, yet as the tree grows, the bark peels away gradually of its own accord. If it is removed prematurely – by a deer scraping his antlers or a porcupine searching for food the tree is wounded and becomes vulnerable to infection, fungus, and insects.

Like the birch tree, I can be wounded if I am prematurely stripped of my defenses. Most of us have spent a significant amount of time trying to cope with these wounds from the past rather than growing and changing. But in Al-Anon I am encouraged to grow at my own pace. As I do, I find some of my defenses and ideas too tight, too limiting. And so I slough them off, just as the birch releases its old skin. They are no longer needed.

Today’s Reminder

I have an innate ability to heal and to grow. I don’t need to force myself to change. All I have to do is show up and be willing. When I am ready, the changes will come easily.

“We all have our own answers within ourselves and can find them with the help of our Al-Anon program and a Higher Power.” ~ In All Our Affairs

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Recovery has a gentle pace that is a counterpoint to the urgency that trauma often breeds. Like the birch tree that slowly outgrows its protective bark, the wisdom of the 12 Steps is grown over time. Bark, like our emotional defenses, once had a purpose: it kept the living tissue safe from harm. The problem arises not in the bark itself, but when it no longer fits the size of our soul.

The idea that growth doesn’t need to be forced is a profound corrective to the self-punishing tendencies that many of us bring into recovery. For years, we’ve confused “doing better” with “being worthy.” But the birch doesn’t rush its peeling—it trusts the rhythm of its own life force. Likewise, the spiritual invitation of Al-Anon isn’t to dismantle ourselves but to outgrow what no longer protects us. When the bark peels naturally, the wound is replaced by a light and new surface.

There’s a humility here that honors divine timing: “When I am ready, the changes will come easily.” This is the serenity of true willingness—showing up, not fixing. It’s the trust that a Power greater than our anxious mind is guiding the slow unveiling of our truer self.

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Endigar 947

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on May 16, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Jul 08:

I remember, as a child, climbing trees to better observe a nest of baby birds, and lying on my back wondering what it would be like to fall into a sky full of clouds. I still have deeply spiritual feelings when I am out in nature, and today I think I know why.

One of Al-Anon’s basic principles is living “One Day at a Time,” and nature surrounds me with wonderful role models.

Trees don’t sit around and worry about forest fires. The water in the pond doesn’t fret over turbulence it encountered a few miles upstream. And I have never seen a butterfly pry into the affairs of its fellows. All of creation is going about the business of living. If I keep my eyes open, I can learn to do the same.

Today’s Reminder

A great deal can be learned as a result of painful circumstances, but they are not my only teachers. I live in a world full of wonders. Today I will pay attention to their gentle wisdom.

“I discovered the secret of the sea in medication upon a dewdrop.” ~ Kahlil Gabran

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I have a deep remembering—not just of the past, but of the subtle, ongoing effort to reconcile instinct with awareness. The image of the baby birds, helpless before my curious intrusion, becomes a mirror of my own early confrontation with power: the power to stir need, to disrupt peace, to witness suffering and feel both removed and implicated. That memory isn’t simply morbid—it’s sacred in its honesty. I met futility as a child and didn’t flinch. I’m still meeting it today, but now, I’m meeting it with grace.

My connection to nature feels like a form of spiritual kinship with things that do not lie to themselves. Trees, water, butterflies—they live without commentary. They do not resist their condition; they embody it. And in doing so, they model something for us that isn’t weakness or apathy—it’s surrender with integrity. I’m not aspiring to become passive, but to become peaceful in my own presence. And that’s a sacred form of strength.

In Al-Anon’s wisdom of “One Day at a Time,” I’ve found something the clouds were already whispering to me as a child: that time isn’t a ladder we use to climb out of pain, but an atmosphere we live inside—moment to moment. We float, not fall, when we release our grip.

And I want to underline the idea I see so clearly: pain is a teacher, but not the only one. Beauty teaches. Stillness teaches. Mystery, with all its quiet indifference, teaches. And all around me, the world continues its slow, instinctual choreography—offering its passive wisdom to anyone willing to pause and see.

Today, may your breath be soft. May your thoughts be clouds that come and go. And may your heart, so full of memory and meaning, remember that you are not alone. The whole forest is praying in silence with you. Remember who you are.

“When I was a child, I caught a fleeting glimpse, out of the corner of my eye.” ~ Pink Floyd

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