The Beauty Path ~ Weathering Storms & Savouring Nectar

Lately, with all the fires and floods, there has been a lot to feel for those of us who love nature, our planetary ecosystems, and our animal neighbours. This has had me thinking about one of the most memorable moments I’ve had in the last ten years: interviewing the late, great herbalist Stephen Harrod Buhner. Stephen was such an influential person in my life—I used to devour his books before online reading was even a thing. Over the course of his lifetime, he wrote more than 23 books, and had he lived longer, I’m sure many more would have emerged. Though Stephen was a proficient ethnobotanical researcher grounded in the scientific method, he told me he didn’t want to explore anything during our interview except plant intelligence and the imaginal realm—which also happened to be the title of one of the books he published about ten years earlier. Like many healers, artists, and philosophers throughout history, Stephen was a lover of both poetry and mysticism. Through his travels, he came to deeply appreciate the sacred inner landscape of the soul and the power of our human capacity for inner vision. We had to reschedule our meeting three times due to the frail nature of his health, which in turn influenced the content we covered. It turns out our interview would be one of—if not the very last—he ever gave. Stephen could only be reached by phone, in a remote region of the American Southwest, and the interview wasn’t quite what I anticipated. Herbalism in the modern era can be a bit sensationalized and glammed up, but let’s just say the tone of our interview was deeply humbling and grounding. Stephen was no fly-by-night herbal tourist—he had real skin in the game. He came from a family lineage of physicians who were very pro–conventional medicine, so he was clearly the black sheep of the family. He went on to devote his entire life to studying herbal traditions, helping others, promoting sound research, and sharing his love for the sacred and the biosphere. In contrast to the content of our interview, I recently saw a shirt that said, “Good Vibes Only.” I know such slogans usually come from a playful place, but can you imagine living in today’s world—knowing all that we do as modern humans—and being “good vibes only”? I don’t mean that Stephen was negative in any way, but he was courageously sincere. One of his final books was titled Earth Grief: The Journey Into and Through Ecological Loss . Our conversation reminded me of an experience I had earlier that year. There was a failing blockade and protest to protect some of the largest trees left on our Canadian West Coast at Fairy Creek. I remember deeply grieving the loss of the trees—and all those before them. I remember feeling helpless and so frustrated by the continued ignorance and greed of the exploitative human species. As I prayed and meditated for clarity on the matter, I received an insight loud and clear: “The Earth will heal in time, so don’t worry—there will be huge, beautiful trees again.” Even though such perspectives don’t erase the immediate pain of ecological loss, it’s comforting to think in terms of the larger cycles of nature and time. As the teachings of the Buddha suggest: all things are impermanent. Anything that has a beginning will also have an end. Suffering, in the Buddha’s view, arises from trying to make the impermanent permanent. Even if I find that view a bit of a jagged pill to swallow, it’s hard to argue with such wisdom. Every life form, civilization, relationship—even every star—will someday meet its end. As grim as this may sound, there is a silver lining—or perhaps a thread of hope and beauty—in such a view. It also means that eras of great destruction will not last forever. If we look at our body-ecosystem and the intelligence of nature, we see that all things have a beginning, a middle, and an end. Trillions of cells are born and die within us constantly—they are like two contrasting sides of the same coin. In other eras, this understanding was expressed differently: the cycle of the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone. In Hindu terms, there is Brahma the Creator, Vishnu the Preserver, and Shiva the Destroyer—and all are required for harmony in creation. Along these lines, the Hopi people share the concept of the Beauty Path—our ability to walk in balance and to perceive beauty on life’s terms. This includes a deep understanding of the greater harmony found in the cycles of creation, destruction and the great balance. Our limited human egos, of course, seek safety and security, and tend to resist change. Yet as time meanders onward, we age, we lose loved ones, and—these days—even some entire species. Just like our favourite old pair of jeans, we must eventually practice the art of letting go with as much grace as possible: letting go of certain stages of our lives, missed opportunities, jobs—whatever it may be. As Ram Dass once said, “It’s all grist for the mill.” In other words—it all must be let go of in the end. However, part of the Beauty Path is also seeing that our disappointment can act as a catalyst for awakening. The bitter contrast of loss and unwanted change can help us more deeply taste the sweetness of life and our delicate place in it all. When we hold the truth of impermanence close to our hearts and minds, we can savour the nectar of our journey more fully. Not only might we cherish the moment more, but maybe we begin to see the unique beauty of the aged wood on the deck, the new lines on our face, our kids (soon to be adults) playing in the yard, or another summer sunset slipping away into night. Appreciating the art of impermanence is called wabi-sabi in Japan—a term that points to the beauty in things aged and weathered by time. When we grasp at life or resist change, we dull our ability to perceive the tender beauty, joy, and awe of it all. Instead, with a little more practice and wisdom, we can learn to savour the passing nature of life with presence and deep gratitude. With fire season upon us here in Manitoba, it appears that the intelligence of nature includes an element of destruction—a law of impermanence. Regardless of how the fires start, they burn hot. But the good news is this: just as every day ends, there is also a dawn. Destruction seems to be both seed and soil for creation in ways we tiny humans may not fully grasp. Some tree seeds, for example, require forest fires to germinate. Our human hearts, however, are earthbound and deeply compassionate. We need to grieve—for the Earth and for the wildlife. The Earth and the attuned human heart —composed of the same letters—are connected, and they beat as one. There’s much to feel these days. Perhaps that is one of the main reasons we are here: to feel and to experience being alive in all its contrast and fullness—not to distract ourselves with workaholism, alcoholism, or any of the “-isms.” To heal is to feel. And perhaps Stephen was right: we need to be with the ecological grief of our time. Simply hold space for the pain of the Earth with compassion—but also with wisdom. In the meantime, as we remain courageously present, we can still play our parts—whether it be planting trees or attempting to save bees—but without misunderstanding the nature of nature and her cycles. Perhaps the evolution of our planetary body—and maybe even our species—involves an element of crisis, just like any birth. Regardless, just as the buffalo turn toward a winter storm, so too must we face the reality of nature’s—or God’s—design as it is. Sure, ice ages come and go, as do earthquakes, volcanoes, species, and even civilizations with their destructive inventions. Yet for now, this precious and beautiful symphony of life continues to play. We are given the task—like our ancestors before us—to do our best to adapt and to courageously enjoy the preciousness of each day. In today’s world, it takes courage to be present and to keep an open heart. We grieve what must be grieved, but let’s also surrender our hearts to love and remain willing to sense that part of nature which transcends the tides—the tides of birth and death, of coming and going. Though this world feels vividly real to our five senses, it is but a passing dream. The land of our spiritual home may seem distant and unreal, yet it abides eternally in our hearts and in the heart of all creation. As Ram Dass once said, “We’re all just walking each other home.” May we enjoy the opportunity each day to love, serve, and remember. Hope you're enjoying the summer, may you weather the storms and savour the nectar! —Chad If you’d like to hear the full interview with Stephen Harrod Buhner, you can find the link in the forum or in the Wisdom Vault under “Podcasts.”