The Wild Dog Blog

Tag: nature

  • The Morning Ritual

    How joyful is it to sit outside at sunrise and listen to the birds starting their day? Their energy rises with the sun – at first their calls are soft and sleepy, but as the sun rises they crescendo into a brilliant chorus. If I counted each unique call, how many would there be? I hear calls from the woodpecker, the owl, the blue jay, and the little brown bird with the yellow on its chest. I’m reminded that this is their home too. 

    As the sun gets higher, the birds get quieter. Their morning ritual is coming to an end. They’ve greeted the day, rejoiced, and now it’s time to move on to the day’s work. It’s time for me to move on too. I’m tempted to stay a little longer in the ease of the morning, but I can’t delay when there’s a day waiting to be lived.

  • The Gift of Waking – Malibu, California

    California inspires the observer with all of its character, color, and texture. From the houses, to the terrain, to the ocean – everything has an exuberance that draws the eye. I imagine it’s a paradise for the artist, photographer, and writer. 

    The coast in particular boasts a glorious pre-dawn vibrance. There’s a distinct richness of color that’s offered by the sun as it rises over the Pacific Ocean to give the gift of another day.

    Isn’t it astonishing that the earth rewards us so generously just for waking?

  • Become a Gardener

    When we’re creating something, there’s so much out of our control. We can really only control what we choose to create and how we choose to create it – we can’t control whether or not it becomes something that’s meaningful to others or makes an impact.

    I think of creating as planting a seed in the ground. I picture myself cradling the seed in my hands before parting the cool, damp dirt aside to bury it in the soil. After I cover it up and pat the dirt down on top, all I can do is come back to the same spot each day to water and keep the weeds away. All I can do is use the tools that I have to cultivate what I’ve planted. When it starts to grow and at what rate it grows isn’t up to me. 

    To create is to accept and find freedom in becoming the gardener of your ideas.

  • Renewal

    Over a decade ago in Bastrop, Texas, high winds, downed power lines, and drought conditions caused the most destructive fire in state history. It burned 34,000 acres of land in 55 days. The pine forests in and around Bastrop State Park are still recovering. 

    This past January, I ran my first 100K ultramarathon in Bastrop State Park and got to see first hand the charred landscape that was reminiscent of the elephant graveyard in “The Lion King.” But I also got to see the start of new growth – young pine trees scattered throughout the park, their evergreen pine needles standing out in sharp contrast to blackened stumps and the golden brown trail. It was a beautiful and inspiring place to explore for 62 miles.

    Forest or human, nothing and no one is immune to the cycle of degeneration and regeneration. I’m thankful to the forests that show us how it’s done and remind us of our own capacity for renewal.

  • Steady Like a Boat

    Be steady like a boat. Even though it doesn’t know its destination or how long it will have to endure each passing storm – it doesn’t waver. For the boat, the only choice is onward – with faith in the horizon that awaits.

  • Acadia National Park – Bar Harbor, Maine

    Is there a word for the feeling you get when you’re in the presence of something that stood long before you, and will still be standing long after you?

    Reverence, wonder, humility…

    This is where my thoughts went as I hiked beneath the spiraling pines that were likely centuries old and had bark the color of the wood in my grandparents’ house and an aroma that was just as familiar and comforting.

    This is where my thoughts went as I looked up at the big, open faced boulders and never ending rock gardens, laying my hands on the millions of years of mountain history as we scrambled over the stony tangles and edged closer to each summit.

    Magnificence formed, and still forming, over an unfathomable span of time – and somehow we, mere humans, find ourselves in the middle of it all.

  • The Centipede

    I watched a centipede make its way along the bannister at the end of the boardwalk. It would inch along for a few seconds, stick its head up to look around, and then continue on. It almost seemed as if it were looking for something, but for what I wasn’t sure. 

    Are we any different from that centipede? Try as we might, we’re unable to see what’s ahead of us or maybe not even sure what we’re looking for. We can only move forward in faith that our path will continue to unfold. 

    I watched the centipede fall from the banister and thought about picking it up to return it to its place, but I stopped myself. Isn’t that how we all get to where we need to be? By pursuing a path, getting redirected by failure or the unexpected, and discovering a new and often better path as a result. 

    I sat there, staring at the centipede curled up on the ground, wondering if it could have died from its fall. A few seconds later, it uncurled, stretched its head up to look around, and dutifully continued on its way. It was a humbling reminder of what’s available to all of us – the choice to keep inching along undeterred, no matter how many times the path changes up ahead.