What if the natural world has been communicating with you all along?
Not necessarily in words, but through the changing seasons, the movement of water, the behavior of animals, the wind through the trees, the cycles of the moon, and the quiet feeling you experience when you step into a place that somehow feels familiar.
For me, connecting with nature has become much more than spending time outdoors.
It has become a relationship.
Through my shamanic journey, I began to understand nature differently. I started paying attention—not just looking, but listening. Not just observing, but becoming present enough to notice what was happening around me and within me.
And I discovered something that changed the way I moved through the world:
Nature can become a teacher when we are willing to become a student.
Modern life trains us to move quickly.
We look at our phones while we're walking. We drive past trees without seeing them. We spend our days thinking about what happened yesterday or what needs to happen tomorrow.
Nature exists differently.
A tree doesn't hurry toward spring.
A river doesn't question whether it should keep flowing.
A hawk doesn't apologize for taking flight.
When we slow down, even for a few minutes, we begin to notice things that were invisible when we were rushing.
Sit beneath a tree.
Walk without headphones.
Watch the clouds.
Listen to the birds.
Feel the ground beneath your feet.
Notice what captures your attention.
You don't have to force an experience to happen. Simply become present.
One of the biggest shifts for me was moving from thinking of nature as something around me to experiencing myself as something within nature.
We are not separate from the natural world.
Our bodies are made from the same elements we encounter everywhere around us. We breathe the air. We drink water. We eat plants and animals that ultimately come from the Earth. Our bodies move through the same cycles of growth, change, aging, and renewal.
When we remember this connection, our relationship with nature can become more intimate.
Instead of asking, “What can nature give me?”
we can begin asking,
“How can I be in relationship with the natural world?”
That question changes everything.
Nature can also become a mirror.
Perhaps you're sitting beside a river during a time when your life feels stuck.
You watch the water move around rocks rather than fighting them.
Maybe the lesson isn't that you need to push harder.
Maybe it's that you can move differently.
Or perhaps you encounter an old, weathered tree.
Its branches have been shaped by storms, drought, wind, and seasons.
And yet it continues to grow.
You might begin wondering:
Where in my own life have I survived storms and continued growing?
This doesn't mean that every bird, animal, tree, or natural event contains a predetermined message specifically for us.
Rather, nature gives us something incredibly valuable:
a living environment in which we can become quiet enough to hear our own deeper knowing.
One of the simplest practices you can begin is what I call the practice of listening.
Go outside somewhere you feel comfortable.
Leave your phone behind if you can.
Take a few slow breaths.
Then simply ask:
“What is here for me to notice today?”
Don't immediately try to interpret everything.
Notice.
What sounds do you hear?
What movement catches your attention?
What changes in your body?
What emotions arise?
What keeps drawing your awareness back?
You may not receive an obvious answer.
That's okay.
The purpose isn't to manufacture a mystical experience.
The purpose is to become receptive.
Instead of constantly searching for new places, consider returning to the same place repeatedly.
A particular trail.
A tree.
A creek.
A meadow.
A mountain overlook.
Visit it in different seasons.
Notice how it changes.
Notice how you change.
Over time, a place can become familiar in a way that is difficult to describe. You begin recognizing its sounds, rhythms, weather patterns, animals, and subtle changes.
You aren't simply visiting nature anymore.
You're developing a relationship with a place.
There may be particular elements of nature that repeatedly capture your attention.
Perhaps you're drawn to water.
Or mountains.
Or birds.
Or certain trees.
Or the night sky.
Rather than immediately deciding what something means, become curious about your relationship with it.
Ask yourself:
Why does this keep getting my attention?
What do I feel when I'm around it?
What qualities does it represent to me?
What might I learn by simply observing it?
Sometimes the wisdom isn't in finding a universal meaning.
Sometimes it's in discovering what something awakens within you.
Your connection doesn't have to be complicated.
You might begin each morning outside with a cup of tea.
You might walk barefoot in the grass.
You might sit beside a tree for ten minutes.
You might keep a nature journal.
You might watch the sunrise once a week.
You might simply pause during a walk and offer gratitude for the Earth beneath your feet.
The ritual itself isn't the important part.
The intention is.
You're creating a moment in your life where you consciously say:
I am here. I am listening. I am part of this living world.
One of the most beautiful things I've learned through my own journey is that wisdom doesn't always arrive as a dramatic revelation.
Sometimes it is simply a feeling of peace.
Sometimes it is realizing that you already know the answer to a question you've been asking.
Sometimes it is recognizing that you need to let something go.
Sometimes it is remembering who you are.
And sometimes, there is no message at all.
There is simply a tree, a breeze, a bird, a mountain, or a river—and for a few moments, you are completely present.
That presence may be the gift.
You don't have to call yourself spiritual.
You don't have to practice shamanism.
You don't have to believe that every encounter with nature is a sign.
You simply have to be willing to slow down and pay attention.
The natural world doesn't require you to have all the answers before you enter into relationship with it.
It simply invites you to notice.
And perhaps, in learning to notice the world around you, you begin noticing something else:
yourself.
The part of you that became quiet beneath the noise.
The part that knows when something feels right.
The part that remembers how to be present.
The part that understands that you are not separate from this beautiful, living world—you are a part of it.
Perhaps deepening your connection with nature isn't about learning how to hear a new voice.
Perhaps it's about becoming quiet enough to recognize a voice that has been there all along.
In the service of love,
Jen
For more info on shamanism and the services I offer please email [email protected]
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