by Connie Habash | May 4, 2026 | Beauty, Divine, Nature
Few events in nature inspire us more than a rainbow. On a cloudy, rainy day, it fills me with exuberant joy when the arch of light and color magically appears across the sky.
We may complain about wet days, the dark clouds, the need for umbrellas, windshield wipers, and galoshes. But the truth is that there are no rainbows without rain.
This is true in our lives as well.
As I’m writing today, it’s a rainy Thursday here in Northern California. As I turned from my street out onto Middlefield Rd., I was met with a double rainbow arching over the trees across from me.
The Beauty That Emerges from Rain
Another miracle of nature. The extraordinary properties of light, revealed in rapturous beauty as a glowing arc of the entire color spectrum available to the naked eye.
Rainbows only come with rain. They’re only possible when we have clouds that drop precipitation on us. The sun is partially obscured; yet the light that does shine through bends into this extraordinary glow.
Seeing Ourselves in a New Light
Often, extraordinary parts of ourselves go unseen by our eyes. Through the perception of our ordinary consciousness, we don’t recognize our beauty and divine qualities within.
It may take something that partially blocks out our traditional way of seeing ourselves – a sacred filter, so to speak – in order for us to perceive our gifts, talents, and precious qualities.
The rainbow happens because the water droplets filter the light in a new way. Maybe not the best scientific explanation, but we need new filters in order to see what we’re missing. Photographers are keenly aware of the power of a filter to reveal new perspectives. We need our Divine Filters, that see us through the eyes that Spirit sees us – as our highest and best selves.
May we be blessed with the Divine Filters that can see our own spectrum of sacred light within. May we be blessed with abundant rain, radiance, and rainbows!
May you begin to see your inner light more clearly, even through life’s rainy moments. Join Awakening Women of the Earth (AWE) to deepen your connection with yourself, others, and Spirit. Want one-on-one support? Check out Spiritual Mentoring!
by Connie Habash | Oct 6, 2021 | Animals, Boundaries, Ecotherapy, insight, Nature, Wisdom
Ecotherapy is a sacred, magical, and very fun way to work with clients. Consistently, I find that nature brings exactly what is needed – even over the phone! Here’s a snippet of a powerful ecotherapy session full of synchronicity, messages, and inspiration.
[note: the identifying information in this post has been changed to protect privacy, and I have received permission – for which I am grateful – to share this special experience with you!]
Our session began as it always does; over the phone, with some deep breaths and coming into the present moment. But also as can happen from time to time, the phone connection was poor and dropping off. I suggested that my client move to better reception – so she stepped outdoors.
Rebecca was fortunate to live close to nature – in Marin County, with redwoods abound. As she moved outside, I could hear the sounds of nature around her over the phone.
A Message About Boundaries
She expressed a desire to be free. It had been challenging lately to set boundaries with others who constantly stepped over their limits. In that moment, I heard the sound of a hawk calling out. Whenever something from nature shows up in a session – whether it is a creature, a sound, or a weather pattern – I consider it to be synchronicity. It is a sacred message from the Universe that can shift our perspective and provide powerful guidance.
I asked if there was a hawk nearby, and she laughed. “No, that’s a jay!” California scrub jays, and jays in general, are known to be able to imitate other birds, especially hawks. Jays are also known to squawk a lot, appearing to complain bitterly about other jays or competing birds in the vicinity. So, we had a false hawk; an imposter posing as a hawk in our midst. I asked Rebecca what that might be reflecting in her life related to the boundary issue.
Pausing in consideration, an “a-ha” moment emerged. Rebecca recognized that she gets mocked for standing up for her boundaries – perhaps because she comes across as “squawking” when she’s trying to set them! It was like the jay pretending to be the hawk; true power wasn’t there to back up the words coming from the jay.
In contrast to the jay, the real Red-Tailed Hawk holds a different energy, and was a bird that Rebecca had a special affinity for. If she was more like the real Red-Tailed Hawk, who is fully empowered, stands tall and firm on the perch, has sharp eyes and talons, and doesn’t need to say a word to have the deference of all the other creatures in the forest, they would probably respect her boundaries.
Don’t Settle – Be the Real Hawk!
The message for her was: “Don’t settle for being a jay – be the hawk!”
We then moved into a visualization to become the hawk, embodying the qualities of respect, power, keen awareness, and hawk-eyed clarity. It was important to feel it in her body, to embody the energy and qualities of the hawk. As she completed this visualization, feeling the hawk’s prowess and strength within her, she had another realization: that it’s easier to have an open heart when you have power. By stepping into and embodying the power that the real hawk represented, she could both set boundaries and more deeply connect, heart to heart, to those she loved.
As we completed our phone session – but fully informed by ecotherapy – a final visitor came to call. The Acorn Woodpecker, who has a call that sounds a lot like a cackle. What was the woodpecker adding to the story, I asked? She mused: when they try to get to you, laugh it off! That’s empowering!
The Magic of Ecotherapy
This is the magic of ecotherapy. Nature knows what we need. Everything in the natural world has meaning and symbolism that takes personal and spiritual growth to a deeper level. Even over the phone, when we open ourselves to nature, a whole world of wisdom, guidance, and insights show up with gifts of healing and transformation.
Is Ecotherapy calling you? Find out more on my Ecotherapy page, or join my email list for more inspiration and to find out about upcoming nature-based events.
by Connie Habash | Apr 13, 2021 | Nature, Patience, Presence, Trust
If you’re willing to be patient and present – to wait a bit in the unknown – you’ll perceive the blessings showing up. No matter where you live, you can find life and inspiration; even on a busy urban street!. Here’s a snapshot from a couple years ago of a simple treasure that brought a beautiful insight.
One of my favorite practices to find my center and my inner peace is sitting outdoors, being present with nature. It’s called “sit spot,” as taught to me by Jon Young, author of What the Robin Knows.
I had some time before my next client at my office, so I decided to step outside and enjoy the benches under an olive tree in the complex I sublet in. In front of me was a lovely little bed of colorful flowers – red zinnias, pink cosmos, some daisies and mums among a couple other plants I couldn’t identify. It was a warm spring day, and the shade of the tree was the perfect balance to the bright sun overhead.
I wanted to happily settle in, but this wasn’t a quiet place. The complex is right on a major 4-lane road, with high-rises across the street and a lot of noisy traffic coming and going. OK, I’ll accept that. Then, another airplane soared over. Hrmpf. Letting go into that, a leaf blower started up on the lawn in the complex next door. This is definitely ruining my peaceful sit spot.
I couldn’t find any sign of birds, my usual companions for these outdoor practices. There are no creatures here, in this noisy, traffic-laden spot, I exclaimed to myself! I was used to listening for birdsong and seeing chickadees high in the trees on my front lawn. I felt dismayed that nothing seemed to be around us – how could it, in this urban area?
I was about to give up my garden relaxation (which wasn’t so relaxing) and head back indoors, when I noticed the bees. Yes, there were certainly insects around here. There is life. A couple flies hovered around, and I saw another bee zip by to the white flowers across the sidewalk from me. The first signs of creatures began to emerge.
I waited a bit longer, opening up my eyes to broader vision. With my peripheral vision, I could take in more of the scene and detect movement, which would give me clues to what might actually live in this less-than-wild environment. What else might I notice, if I am more patient and give this some time?
A shadow darted overhead; as I turned to follow its trail, I saw a grey bird flying across the boulevard to the trees next to the high-rises. My first bird sign – but actually, that wasn’t true. I had seen seagulls and probably pigeons, but discounted those automatically. Those aren’t really nature, I thought – they’re always around, pooping on the traffic lights and gobbling up crumbs from tossed potato chip bags. But they, indeed, are part of our natural world here in suburbia, and worthy of my noticing. I had not realized that I was discounting some obvious life around me.
Again, I softened my eyes and let them take in a broader scope of my vision, rather than the hard-focused, directive way that we humans look at things (as do other predators). Off to my left, I saw movement on the brick pathway, going around to the grass. It was a bird! A small bird, that likes to hang out on the ground, searching for seeds, perhaps. Suddenly, I was filled with joy and enthusiasm about a bird friend in the vicinity.
I stood up and looked over at the grass, but it was hiding somewhere in the bushes. It must have seen my movement – so I will need to sit back down and be still. The movement of some magenta flowers clued me in as to its location. Then I saw it hopping through the bushes towards the ivy. A sweet, gentle, dark-eyed junco! Charcoal on its head and neck, coffee-colored through the bodice and wings. It sifted through the compost and snatched up seeds, quietly and cautiously hopping away to disappear in the shiny green leaves of the ground cover.
For me, patience and presence gave me a little treasure. I was delighted and filled with hope that even in this place of mostly concrete and steel, there was life. I may have missed it, had I not been willing to be patient. To wait and see. Waiting with trust of what may show up, and with the eyes to be able to look around and notice what is happening, rather than focusing on what isn’t there.
Often, we become impatient with life, because we aren’t receiving what we want right now. But the Universe has its own timing. Waiting in the space of trust, while being alert and observing what shows up, puts us in alignment with something greater in our lives. Alignment with the Divine – or our Higher Self if you prefer – opens up the possibility for more to flow into our life.
So next time, when you’re not seeing what you expected or hoped for, remember to wait and see. Practice patience, trust, and open your eyes to perceive all that is available now. It will reveal much that you might otherwise miss.
What treasure or insight did you discover from patience and presence? Share it here!
Want to learn more about Presence and the other 6 keys to awakening from your emotions? Check out Awakening from Anxiety: A Spiritual Guide to Living a More Calm, Confident, Courageous Life!
by Connie Habash | Aug 5, 2020 | fulfillment, Nature, Patience, Quiet, stillness, Time
Feeling stressed and short on time? The best way to shift out of overwhelm and find fulfillment is to stop completely, unplug outdoors, and open up to timelessness.
It was a Thursday morning, and I had just dropped off my daughter at her internship at a nature preserve. The perfect time for me to visit the lake at Foothills Park, just 5 minutes away. I relished the idea of alone time outdoors.
No Cell Phone!
The problem – I didn’t have my cell phone. My daughter had left hers at home, so I gave her mine just in case she needed to reach my husband. I won’t be able to take photos (on this visit, but I went back the next week for the photos you see here!) and worst of all, I won’t be able to keep an eye on the time. Luckily, I didn’t have plans for the day, so what did it really matter?
Boronda lake is near the park entrance – just a short drive down on the left. I stopped at the first dock and parked. It was a perfect morning – the sun gently shining and only one other person in sight. The dock was happily empty and beckoning to me.
I walked slowly over to the edge of the lake and waited. It helps to approach natural areas mindfully, so the wildlife is less likely to scatter. Juncos were softly perusing the grass for seeds with their chip-chip calls, but they moved aside for me. Three female mallards were stepping into the water as I approached, but much as I wanted them to stay, they entered and paddled off silently. So I stepped onto the dock, walked to the end, and sat down next to the edge.
The water was amazingly clear – I could see to the shallow bottom and the plants growing beneath, which I recognized from another pond at a camp my daughter and I used to attend. Then, I heard the sound of a red-tailed hawk on the other side of the lake. Was that one in a tree up high on the hill? I saw a dark spot in the foliage and wondered. But maybe it’s just a gap in the branches, showing the shadow behind it – too far away to tell. How could I know? I’d have to wait to find out.
An Opportunity Without Time Constraints
I had wanted to walk around the lake, but I was intrigued by the possible raptor – I really wanted to know if it was sitting there in the tree, and watch it take off. So I decided to be still and wait. This was my opportunity to have a nice long “sit spot” – one of my favorite deep nature connection practices that deepens my experience of Presence. I often do “sit spot” in my front yard at home, but being so close to my computer and all the “to-dos” of the day makes my sit-spots a bit on the short side. This would be a blessed, leisurely immersion away from the constraints of time.
I expanded my senses and heard the Nuttal’s woodpecker in the trees behind me to the right, and the chitter of a hummingbird on my left side. Then, I peered down in the water and watched for signs of fish. At first, there were just guppy-looking tiny fish, swimming in and out of the shelter of the swaying green” parrot’s feather” plants. I waited quietly some more; much to my surprise, a considerably larger silver fish swam into view. Wow! You really could fish here.
Over near the cattails on my left, a black bird with a lighter beak swam along like a duck – I later decided it was an American Coot. It dove into the water for long periods, and I started to count – 13, 14, 15 seconds – and it popped up several feet away. What fun! The ducks took some interest in me, and now I saw that there was a mother and two slightly smaller juveniles. They swam by within 3 feet of me, looking cautiously into my eyes.
My Vigil Served a Better Purpose
What time is it? I didn’t know, but I kept constant vigil on the tree across the lake with the dark spot, still hearing the occasional call of a red tail. It hadn’t moved. My mind went into a debate about whether I was imaging it or not. I waited some more, eager to see it take off. But my vigil served a better purpose.
The truth was, it didn’t matter if the hawk was there. The curiosity about it was simply the impetus for me to stay and drop into timelessness. I didn’t know how long I was sitting there, and I didn’t care. More fish swam through the plants, one jumped out of the water about 20 feet away, and then, to my delight, a turtle ambled by! Visits from more ducks, the gentle breeze on my face, and the warm sun brought a peaceful joy. A bullfrog caught my attention with it’s croaking in the reeds on my right. Swallows zoomed over the lake in wide arcs, snatching up bugs close to the water’s surface. I could sit on the deck all day and immerse in the unfolding stories of the animals.
The excuse of waiting for the hawk (that never launched from the tree – likely just a play of light and shadow) and the lack of a cell phone shifted me out of distraction and the perception of time. Being without a device was such a blessing. I dropped into the ease and delight of the present moment, just being with the ripples on the water, the paddling of the ducks, and the sweet sounds of the chickadees behind me on the shore.
Timelessness is Deeply Fulfilling – and Available if We Choose
At some point, I was ready to abandon the hawk mystery. It was time to leave. But it didn’t come from checking the clock; I felt filled by the sense of timelessness from simply sitting quietly outside and receiving all that nature had to offer. There was so much beauty and simplicity – what more did I really need?
Upon returning to the car, I saw that I had been there an hour. I was amazed at all I saw, heard, and felt in that period of time, and noted how deeply fulfilled I was. When I am pressured by checking the clock and looking on my device, I miss so much, and at the end of the day, I don’t feel this kind of ease. Having a long, magical “sit spot” at this beautiful place – without the pressure of time – was more than enough, though, to renew me. Back at home, I felt re-inspired and ready to write and create.
I realized that timelessness is always available to us, if we make the time to receive and experience it, away from all the things that fill up the hours of the day. Will you take the time this week to step away from the clock and devices, and receive? Share your story here.
by Connie Habash | Jun 4, 2020 | Aliveness, Awareness, Beauty, Challenges, Change, Meditation, Nature, Presence, Transformation
As I’m writing this, we are coming to the end of the first phase of our shelter-in-place for corona virus, and restrictions are beginning to lift. Everyone is looking forward to going back to “normal” – but that’s not what I’m thinking at all.
In fact, there’s a lot about “normal” that I am not interested in going back to, both in my own personal life and in our planetary experience. Instead, let’s stop fully in the present moment to assess what’s true, and step forward into the extraordinary!
For weeks, we’ve been under a state of worry, fear, and certainly restriction with the corona virus pandemic. Here in California, where I live, everyone has sheltered in place, and the news is full of the latest statistics, struggles, and losses. I turned off the news weeks ago – I can read what I need to know, but I want to fill my consciousness with someone other than corona virus.
This shelter in place time, however, has been a blessing – and a challenge – for me. That’s because, right at the time we had to shelter in place, I also became ill. Not with corona virus, fortunately, but with hyperthyroidism. As a result, I got the double-whammy. I felt amped up all the time. My heart pounded, was erratic, and I was very weak – at one point, I couldn’t take more than one step on the stairs before I had to pause and wait for my heart to settle back down. My body felt hot, and I struggled night after night with insomnia. At times, my heart pounded so hard that it was painful and terrifying. No wonder it’s known also to cause anxiety, both physiologically as well as from the worry about the physical symptoms!
So I was forced to sit. I couldn’t exercise, not even a gentle yoga pose, for a few weeks. I sat on the couch and in the garden, and I rested a lot.
But mostly, I reflected, introspected, and processed what was happening to me and why. I knew there was a gift here in this scary illness that halted my life, and a gift in the shelter in place.
Woe is Me
It would have been easy to get stuck in “woe is me,” the victim consciousness of “why is this happening to me?” and feeling sorry for myself. Feeling like a victim of circumstance, and powerless.
Woe means distress and suffering. There was plenty of that to go around. But I didn’t need to see my life that way.
Many of us have been lured into this state, feeling scared about the corona virus, helpless and out of control. Yes, there’s a lot out of our control. But our mental state – the thoughts we chose to believe – is something we have volition over. We have the ability to choose what we focus on and create our experience of what is happening intentionally.
I knew I didn’t want to be caught up in the collective “woe is me” mentality that the media was encouraging with every frightening story about statistics and suffering. I certainly had a lot of compassion for those who were suffering physically, financially, and who lost loved ones to the virus. I, too, had lost income and my well-being for a period of time. But I knew we weren’t stuck in a terrible state, unless I allowed myself to focus on those thoughts.
I knew there was something other than “woe is me” that I could experience about my condition and the world.
Whoa!
The Universe actually gave me a gift – not just for me, but for many of us. It offered a situation where we all had to come full-stop. When you’re horseback riding and you want your horse to stop, you say “Whoa.” So I shifted from “woe is me” to “whoa.”
My life had come to almost a standstill, and there was an opportunity here. I always look at what comes my way as some sort of gift, or at least an opportunity. With being forced by my illness to stop seeing clients and everything else that I was doing, it was time to take a good look at my life and what I was creating.
“Whoa” stops us in our tracks and gives us the opportunity to become Present. Until we are fully present – with our attention and awareness right here in this moment – we can’t really know ourselves. I had to stop and ask myself some important questions:
- What may have caused my condition?
- What do I really value?
- Who do I want to BE?
- What changes do I need to make in my life?
I don’t have the answers to all of these yet, and I know it will be a work in progress ongoing. But I came to some clear realizations as I sat, and sat, and sat.
- I discovered that hyperthyroidism is often associated with precipitating stress. I knew that I was overloading my schedule – doing too much, too fast, with too much pressure on myself. This was not the “normal” I wanted to go back to. I needed to slow down, be more present (my life lesson!), and do less.
- My meditation and yoga practice needed to return to the top of the list. It has felt so good to prioritize my meditations in the morning. I feel my mind and soul quieting down and opening up a spaciousness in me. Yoga is returning slowly, as my strength and stamina build in my physical recovery from hyperthyroidism. I’ve noticed that when I make time for yoga, whether during the day or before bed, I sleep better, in addition to feeling more alive and at ease in my body.
- Two of my most important values, which are related, are supporting a vibrant ecosystem and eating healthy: therefore, I needed to commit to cooking at home with local, organic, ethical and sustainable food. As a result, I have been learning to prepare meals and step out of my comfort zone with cooking. We are eating food that’s not only tasty, but I feel good about on all levels. My daughter and I have started an organic vegetable and fruit garden. We feel good about growing and nurturing this life right in our yard, and spending more time outdoors not just with the plants but the animals as well. We have created a bird bath that is frequented by many different species, and are currently fostering two swallowtail butterfly caterpillars into their transformation. We’re reconnecting with nature right here at home, and our whole family is rejoicing about it.
- I knew that, although I don’t buy as much “stuff” as the average American, I still had too much. I needed to spend less and only purchase what I need. In fact, as I looked back at March and April of my illness and shelter in place, 90% of what I spent money on was food and healthcare. That was true to how I wanted to live – sure, from time to time I’ll need to replace “things”, but overall, that’s all I really need.
- I let my creativity and joy drop off my short list, too. So it was time to break out the art materials and draw mandalas, create pastels, dance, and sing! To spend time listening to the birds, and playing games with my family. Prioritizing joy and creative pursuits were vital to my happiness and thriving.
- And now, with the recent killing of George Floyd and the consequential protests to bring light (again) to racism and unconscionable killing of black people has me reflecting more deeply on my white privilege, understanding racism, and what I need to change in my consciousness.
It’s a plenty big Whoa. What a gift it has been to stop, be Present, and see with this clarity. And then to take action by educating myself, learning new skills, spending time with my family, and growing past my edge of comfort. Not perfectly, and it’s not “done” (will always be a work in progress), but I have created a shift that feels sustainable and in alignment with my True Self.
Whoa is Me!
As I step forward from my pause in Presence, I feel a sense of inspiration. I shift from full stop with Whoa! to that form of Whoa that is amazement, delight, and awe.
I feel Whoa! not just about my inner journey and personal realizations, but also my physical body. I have been watching Dr. Zach Bush recently in some interviews, who predicted the corona virus outbreak and is passionate about the microbiome of our bodies and the planet. In our body, we have trillions of cells; but we also have quadrillions of microorganisms that support our flourishing on the planet. Without those bacteria, fungi, and yes, viruses, within us, we wouldn’t be able to survive. A strong, balanced microbiome, in both the soil and in our gut and other systems of the body, keeps us and the ecosystem in healthy, thriving balance.
For me, that was a Whoa! moment. I felt so grateful for all of this life within me, working harmoniously together (when it’s in proper balance, of course) for my well-being. I knew I was healing on many levels. The consciousness of all these microscopic beings was serving the higher good of the community of what I call my body. I embraced my body with tremendous love and appreciation, for all these organisms and processes that I didn’t quite understand, but I knew created the miracle of what we call life..
We are truly a community – we can’t separate ourselves from the air we breathe, the water we imbibe, the food that emerged from nutrient-rich soil (we hope – with organic, local, and regenerative farming), the sun that gives our planet light and energy, and the entire web of life. We can’t ultimately separate ourselves from each other as human beings, for we all come from the same stuff of the Universe. That is truly Whoa!
And within me – and you, and all of us – we have the ability to create anew, with each breath and each moment. We are conscious, Divine beings, and can decide who we want to be and what we want to contribute to life. We can intentionally choose what we want to do with our time, energy, and gifts, and how to apply them to the greater good. With the power to change our thoughts, attention, intention, and actions, we can transform our experience of life, and together, even transform our world.
We don’t need a lot. We may believe we don’t live in a big enough space to support what we truly want, or that we don’t have enough money, time, or energy. But we don’t need a lot of real estate, money, energy, or even clout.
Think of the last time you walked down a street and saw a weed growing in a crack in the pavement. We’ve all seen that, and maybe you’ve wondered, how did that dandelion grow there? It doesn’t even look like a millimeter of space in that crack. Yet it grows.
It finds a way to flourish, even in those conditions. It may seem like there can’t be enough soil, there’s not enough space, and there certainly isn’t enough water in there. But the dandelion isn’t thinking those thoughts. It finds the crack, and it knows what is possible. It grows because it knows. It only needs just enough room for the seed to slip in, and it believes it can thrive. So it does.
We all can, too. Even if there’s just a little crack in your life, that’s more than enough space for your thought of creation to slip in and germinate, if you know who you really are. If you open up to the awe of your Divine self, the infinite possibilities that lie within you and before you. If you know, believe, and put your focus on what you want to grow. Whoa Is Me! That’s who you are: an amazing, awe-inspiring consciousness that came here to Be who you Are. And you can make a difference in the world.
Don’t Go Back to Normal
If you find yourself, from time to time, stuck in “Woe is Me”, don’t judge yourself. Instead, embrace yourself with compassion. Then, stop – Whoa! – and be present. Ask yourself the important questions, and give yourself time to gain clarity and your new vision. You can write a new story in your life and for the planet. Recognize that you have unimagined possibilities within you, waiting for you to just give them a crack of space and attention to flourish. Then, exclaim to yourself, Whoa is Me! Be inspired by the gift of this life and your ability to create your vision.
Don’t go back to “normal”. Together, we can change the story and go forward into an extraordinary life and an extraordinary world.
by Connie Habash | Sep 4, 2019 | Acceptance, Nature, Presence, Resilience, Trust
A challenging hike (for me, that day!) to a pristine alpine meadow teaches me the power of presence, trust, and reveals my inner resilience.
The whole day was in front of us, and we decided to take a hike that I hadn’t been on in over 20 years. I barely even remembered it; just where the trailhead was and that we had to ascend and cross over the ridge to the east. Everyone told us that it was just 2 miles, and not very far. My memory suggested it was longer. But I believed them instead of myself.
The call of Mount Shasta’s South Gate Meadows (what I remembered as Squaw Meadow) was enticing for all of us. A lush, Japanese garden-like paradise, with abundant wildflowers and a stunning cascade above it. We had to see it!
I had gotten in the habit of carrying the load for the 3 of us. My husband used to have a sensitive low back, and my daughter was too young for many years to be able to carry much. So I hefted our 3 water bottles, lunches, and snacks (plus her epi-pen for emergencies) myself.
Ascending the First Hill
We were at 7,800 feet to begin. Since we had only been in the Mount Shasta area for a day and a half, we weren’t quite acclimated to the elevation yet. Not to mention that the city level was only a little over 3,500 feet. Quite different hiking up at nearly 8,000.
So, you can guess, that shortly after we started up the rocky incline to the ridge above the treeline, I realized pretty quick that I would have to go slow. And rest a lot. I had about 20 extra pounds on my back. I felt like my 9th trimeseter of pregnancy; I had to request 2 stops in just the first 20 minutes. My mind began its story – this is gonna be hard. I’m already tired – how will I make it? Why am I out of breath?
But we finally made it to the peak, where we stopped for a photo op at the Mount Shasta Wilderness sign. Yay – we were heading into the wild! And I was heading into the wild of my mind.
Down Into the First Valley
Looking down the trail lifted my spirits. Downhill, hurrah! Now my mind played the easy stories, hopeful that it would be downhill the rest of the time. A small oasis appeared in the midst of the volcanic rock landscape. A little preview of the meadow to come; water trickling out of a fissure and allowing heather and little white flowers to abound for about 20 yards down the trail.
As we departed the mini-meadow, the land of puff-balls emerged. Remember the wild, swirly “hair” of the Truffula trees in The Lorax by Dr. Seuss? Or perhaps the crazy hair of Thing 1 and Thing 2 in The Cat in the Hat? Well, these little white puff-balls looked just like tiny Truffula trees, dotting the landscape. I called it puff-ball city. We were quite enamored with them and terribly tempted to pick one to take home – but didn’t.
As we passed by this alien-looking landscape, we ascended a small hill, up to where some trees were eeking out an existence. I was thankful for a rest in some shade, while my daughter happily climbed into their branches. There was another long descent ahead of us into a valley, around the bend of a large outcropping with a sheer cliff-face dotted with a few trees that somehow clung to their lives.
I was briefly delighted at the descent, until the thought crossed my mind; the return trip. We are going down, and down, and down. At the end of the day, how will I fare on the return ascent? I began to feel dejected. But I remembered to return to the present moment. Enjoy the view. Count puff-balls. Appreciate the little pink flowers that occasionally shared the barren landscape with the mini-Truffula trees. And trust the process, of course!
Another Incline Bites the Dust
After meandering down around the butte, we reached a steady climb into an area forested with pine, fir, and perhaps spruce (how do you tell the difference, anyway?). I was back to huffing and puffing.
My ego had to sit on the sidelines as I asked for another break. The thoughts rolled in: how much further? The marker sign we saw a ways back said only half a mile more – it can’t be! We descended for at least a quarter mile, and now we’ve been ascending for more than that. Pairs and small groups of millenials, even some with children, would charge past us, while I was the slow caboose about 20 paces behind my husband and daughter.
My mind wanted to compare myself, to feel sub-par as everyone else seemed to be just fine with this hike. I enjoyed it, but my body was protesting. Again and again, I reminded myself to return to the present moment. I have what I need within me to make it to the meadow. Stay here and now, I’d tell myself. One step, then the next; one breath, and another.
At long last, we leveled off and began to descend slightly. Were my ears correct? The sound of running water, indeed, was up ahead. We stepped over a small stream cut into the earth around more pines and continued on the trail around the south side of a slope. The meadow stretched out ahead of us. No more incline – for now!
The Magic of South Gate Meadow
Ambling down into the base of South Gate Meadow, we were greeted by lush green grasses and leaves unfolding from yellow arnica flowers, delicate white blooms, and the last of pink heather. Fiery patches of Indian Paintbrush set the meadow ablaze here and there, and if you looked carefully, you’d also find tiny blue flowers as well.
Tiny waterfall after tiny waterfall emerged as we walked up the narrow trail, careful not to step on the precious meadow foliage. We knew that it took a long time for it to become this lush, and trampling by humans sets a meadow back years. Exhausted, I was relieved to sit down on some large rocks under the shade of a fir (?) tree, and release the pack from my back. We broke out the lunches and ate heartily by the sound of the trickling stream. We had earned it!
My daughter and I meandered around the meadow, marveling at the abundance of life growing on this harsh mountainside. Bright orange and brown Painted Lady butterflies and bumblebees occasionally visited us as we paused to listen to the sound of the stream or to touch our fingertips into the ice-cold water. My husband was happy to meditate back at the rock, while we ventured further up the slope.
The Cascade
The forest ranger told us that if we followed the stream on the right hand side up above the meadow, we’d discover the cascade out of which it was born. Should we go? I was already tired, and well aware that the majority of our return hike was uphill. Would I have enough energy? But here was an opportunity I didn’t know if we would have again for some time. I trusted that somehow, my body would carry me. I put aside my thoughts and focused on this presence; being here in this moment. The Divine would provide the energy, and my job was not to waste it in unnecessary thought.
Sure enough, climbing higher to the upper reaches of the greenery, a stunning array of tiny waterfalls spilled down the rocks. We hiked higher and higher, up through muddy terrain on a steep ascent, attempting to reach the source from which the water emerged from the mountain.
My energy was sapped. Although we had refueled and rested, and I had left my pack back with my husband on the rock, my heart raced and I struggled to breathe through my nose. Just when it seemed that we had finally reached the top, we looked ahead of the illusionary summit to see that the cascades continued indefinitely up the mountain in the distance. It was time to stop.
My daughter and I reveled in the beauty of this vista, looking down upon the meadow and off into the valleys below, a seemingly unending sea of forests. She sat on a large rock in the middle of the stream, radiant in the majesty of the scene.
I,however, found myself flipping back and forth between presence with the rushing sound of the waters and my monkey mind, worrying about getting down this muddy slope and the return trip. As I brought myself back again to this moment, I saw my husband lugging the backpack over his right shoulder to catch up with us. We all enjoyed some time in this magical place.
A Return in 1st Gear
Carefully making my way back down to the meadow (while almost sinking one foot completely into a mudhole!), we prepared for our return trip. My husband’s back already was bothering him from carrying the pack up the cascade. So I hefted the backpack again and we headed back up the trail.
It only took about 10 minutes and a few rest stops for me to acknowledge that I didn’t have the energy to carry our gear myself. But I worried about my 14 year old daughter. The pack was a bit too large for her – would it hurt her back? Would she find it too heavy? She had spent a week last summer backpacking, and she happily put it on her back and took off ahead. Relieved, I ambled along as we crossed the mountainside to the first part of the long ascent.
I dragged myself at times. Really, Connie? But it just was what it was. Again and again, I reminded myself to be present, rather than think of what was ahead, or feel despair at the slowness of my progress. I had to downshift into 1st gear and keep it there to get through this hike.
My family was quite patient with me as I would beg for rests. I gave thanks to my strong heart, as it beat resoundingly in my chest. We rested under shady limbs and on rocks along the way. I’d tell myself, just up to that next crest, or just up to that large red rock, and then I can stop for a bit.
The Final Ascent, and the Emergence of Resilience
One more short downhill, past the small group of trees, and into the land of the puff-balls. The big, long uphill trail lie ahead before we crested at the ridge and could glide downhill to the parking lot. By now, my legs felt like lead. It didn’t feel that they weren’t strong enough, but that my heart and lungs couldn’t seem to replenish them fast enough.
I fell further behind. We stopped talking, as it simply wasted my energy. My daughter seemed unaffected by the weight of the pack, but I was fighting a battle without any extra at all. Fear arose about my heart – could it really take this much? Why did I feel out of shape? Was I dehydrated? By this time, my husband had drank all of his water, my daughter was nearly out, and I was sharing my last bit with them.
I moved ahead, step by step. Resting often, but carrying on. My family encouraged me to go just a little further before a break. My heart, though it seemed to race, was steady; my mind needed to catch up. I had to realize that I was more resilient than my mind wanted me to believe. I just needed to turn away from thinking and keep going. My resilience emerged and strengthened with each step. It didn’t matter if families with toddlers were passing me. I am making it up the hill however I am able.
The Top of the Ridge
After 30 minutes of slowly trudging uphill, stopping to touch puff-balls, resting by the mini-meadow, and catching a butterfly on my finger (it wouldn’t be a trip to Mount Shasta if I didn’t!), the last few steps to the top arrived. We paused at the summit, looking over the Old Ski Bowl parking lot, down the mountain and far off across the valley to Lake Siskyou. I was grateful.
I didn’t skip down the mountain (although my husband joyfully ran). I plodded along slowly, but with more lightness in my step. Still catching my breath, I plopped down into the car seat and heaved a sigh.
The memory of the pristine meadow was deeply imprinted in us. And perhaps moreso, for me, was the memory of the hike itself. Not only the vistas, but the challenges with my body and mind. I was able to keep the mental drama at a minimum, and go past what I thought I could do. It didn’t matter how slowly I moved or how fast my heart raced. It didn’t matter why I seemed to struggle. I made it.
On some level, I not only needed that meadow, but I needed that challenge. By staying present, having faith, and persisting, I discovered my resilience.
by Connie Habash | Mar 15, 2018 | Animals, Beauty, Hiking, journey, Joy, Life, Nature, Openness, Seasons, Trust
A couple weeks ago, I had planned to hike on a Thursday morning with a friend I hadn’t seen in months. We were looking forward to being together and venturing into one of my favorite forests at nearby Huddart Park. The forecast was for rain – not just a little drizzle. Did we want to venture beyond our comfort zone, even if it was pouring?
I was game, and so was she – what an adventure! Going outdoors brings me great joy, but there’s always an element of being uncomfortable. Will I get muddy? Will my new rain pants truly hold up? What if I slip and fall? How about the cold? Being in nature mirrors to us the fact that life is unpredictable and uncomfortable sometimes.
We met up and drove together through the windy road to the park entrance, then on to the grassy field near the trailhead. On with the jackets, hiking books, and mittens (yep, it was chilly!), and off we went into the redwood forest.
It’s hard to describe the sensations of joy I feel in the forest. It’s a physical sensation of heightened senses, elation, and ease all at once. The rain only served to intensify it, especially the feeling of ease. The soft patter of drops falling from branches and contacting redwood sorrel and other greenery below the canopy contrasted with the deep silence behind it. Peace spread through the woods, enveloping me in a gentle embrace that quieted my mind.
Oh, the smells! The rich, wet earth, blended with moist wood and decomposing bay laurel leaves intoxicates me. I instinctively inhale deeply, as if trying to taste the rich scent by drawing in more of the wonderful scents of the forest. It feels so fresh and clean, and deeply alive. I, too, feel deeply alive as we journey further down the trail.
Our hope was to spy a bunch of banana slugs – one of my favorite creatures to spy here in our local ecosystem – but much to our surprise, they were nowhere to be found, even in this very wet weather. But guess what was out in droves in their place: newts! We counted 5 California newts at various times on our adventure. They waddled across the leafy compost the way a toddler ambles across the living room floor, but on 4 legs instead of two. It was fun to catch a well-concealed newt in the act amongst the camouflage, like picking out Waldo from an eye-boggling scene.
And the earthworms! 10, 20, more… I lost count over our 2 hour jaunt. We took care to avoid stepping on them, sometimes 4-5 littered across the trail like long strings of confetti. I imagined they came out for a party from their underground cover, enjoying the newfound freedom in the rain’s shower.
At the bottom of the hill I was greeted by the creek, which was delightfully full, rushing over river stones large and small, tan oak branches, past fallen Douglas firs, and downward to join many spontaneous rivulets racing to merge in union. After crossing the stream, we chose a trail I had not ventured onto before to follow up the other slope.
It was rare that I saw birds in this forest – usually I only heard whispers of them high above us, atop the redwoods. But today we were treated with a dark-eyed junco couple directly ahead of us on the path. We stopped to watch in silence; and to await how close they would approach us. One hopped towards us, then paused to peck at the group; the second would then take a few cautious hops in our direction. Chit-chit, chit-chit they called to each other, contrasting with the soft sound of the rain. They came within 9 feet or so, then worked their way back in the other direction, eventually off into the brush.
Two hours passes in timelessness. We had put our cells on airplane mode, happily walking without distraction, without checking watches or thinking about “the world”. This was the world. This was alive, abundant, vibrant. Full of surprises and delights. Pausing for occasional downpours so that we could watch, hear, feel, and smell the gift of the rain. We didn’t need more than what nature offered us with every step, around every corner.
Kindly, my friend had packed some lunch for us, and we found a decent picnic table to sit down and eat, enjoying conversation and the drops that landed on our hoods and in our salads. Fresh food never tasted so good out on the land. I appreciated every fruit and vegetable, marveling at what nature provides.
My clothes? The rain pants were fantastic; my legs were cool but not wet. Water dripped off my rainjacket harmlessly onto the ground. My hiking boots held up fine. Just my fingerless mittens were soaked, easily rectified in the dryer back at home.
As we drove away and back into “civilization”, I was filled with gratitude. Nature fills me in ways that nothing else can. I feel Spirit alive in every rock, tree, and raindrop. I recognize that my needs are truly simple. What more do we truly need than this precious beauty, this flowing water, this bushy-tailed squirrel that eyes me as she eats seeds from a cone? The more present we are in nature, the more the mind becomes serene and we experience the Oneness with life that truly fulfills us.
Returning home, the aliveness of the forest was alive in me. I stood in the driveway and turned my face up to the clouds, feeling the drops on my cheeks and forehead. I am a leaf catching the rain, and nothing feels more grand. I was OK being a little wet, a little cold, and stepping into the unknown. Going past my comfort zone opened me to new joys that I hadn’t experienced before.
Feeling the call to immerse in the beauty of nature? Join me at my upcoming Women’s Spring One-Day Retreat or this fall for Mindful Hiking (coming this October)!
by Connie Habash | Feb 13, 2018 | Love, Nature, Source, Valentine's Day
Yeah, I know. Valentine’s day is this week. How do you feel about it?
Do you feel loved? Do you have someone that you love? Do you appreciate this day to express that love, or does this day trigger painful emotions?
I think there are as many reactions to Valentine’s day as there are the spectrum of emotions. I personally appreciate the opportunity to express love and care for others. But I also don’t like the expectations and commercial aspect of “Valentine’s Day”.
And I don’t think this is about someone else – I think this day could be turned towards finding love wherever you are, inside of you. Because love isn’t limited to a person, a place, or a thing. Love is infinite, unlimited, and ever present. Love is the Divine, and it’s already within you.
But many of us have a difficult time finding and feeling this Divine Love within each of us. There are many reasons for this – spiritual beliefs, feeling unworthy, expectations, etc. One of the most effective ways to feel it is to express love out to others. But even that can be a serious challenge sometimes.
What works for me? Well, I have many ways that I tap into that unlimited source of Love, but there is one thing that opens me up to that Love almost every time. And that is going outdoors, sitting down, and deeply connecting with something in nature.
Right now, in California, we just had a warm spell and things are growing and blooming. I found a tiny sprout – the new life of a wildflower seed that I sowed in our front yard a few weeks ago – gently and bravely rising up between the wood chips.
I marveled at this seemingly insignificant form of life… how it trusts, reaches towards the sun, dares to unfold two little green leaves, and senses the possibilities. I wonder what plant it will become, the color of the flowers, how big it will grow.
I am reminded of my daughter who was just a baby 13 years ago, who now prepares for high school in the fall. She’s maturing into a heartfelt, wise, and determined young woman.
The tiny sprout… and my darling daughter… both expanding into their possibilities, both determined to be that which they came here to be. How can I not feel love for that sprout, even as I feel love for my daughter? Different, yes, but beautiful, magical, and all arising out of nature; one through my womb, the other through the womb of the earth’s soil.
My heart opens to feel the love for all creation. And as it opens to share that love, it opens to receive it. And that is how I experience the flood of Divine Love coming through me.
Just as I love my daughter and that sprout, I feel how Nature loves me: each unique creation unfolding on this planet is held, supported, nourished, and yes, loved by the Source of all life. That includes me, and that includes you.
Get outdoors. Find something to marvel at, great or small. Let it open your heart. If you do, you’ll feel the love for the dandelion growing in the cracks on the sidewalk, the tall and majestic pine tree, the sound of squirrels having a squabble on the neighbor’s fence, the fierce rain driving against your back. Life is full of miracles, and full of love. Behold the Beloved in all creation, and be held by the Beloved. Love is right here, right now, in and around you.
You don’t need Valentine’s Day for that.
Copyright @2018 by Rev. Connie L. Habash
by Connie Habash | Jun 12, 2017 | Aliveness, Animals, Appreciation, Beauty, Being, Comparison, Nature, Presence
Every morning, shortly after I wake, I do my “sit-spot” practice outside in our front yard. This is a practice of simply sitting and being present with everything in nature. It’s a beautiful way to begin my day with the freshness of the morning air, the sun beginning to peek through the leaves, the squirrels racing up and down the oak trees, and most of all, the birdsong.
I relish hearing the variety of birds in our neighborhood. On those beautiful, bright, sunny mornings it is pure delight to sit by our grassy patch and hear a bird calling from the tall redwood tree 5 houses down to the right, and to hear the high-pitched clicking sound of a hummingbird as it zooms in for a drink from our Mexican sage.
This morning, however, was quite different than the others for the last couple of months. It was dense with cloud-cover, and rain was expected. For California in June, this is rare. With ordinary eyes, one might wake up, see the dismal looking skies, and decide to just pull the covers over the head and go back to sleep. A dreary, cloudy day.
Not so for the birds. Like every other morning I’ve spent in sit-spot on my lawn, the birds were singing their song. They were out there – the chickadees, the spotted towhees, the wrens, the juncos, and the hummingbirds – chirping away. Every day they sing their song, sharing it with the world, declaring their right to be here and the beauty of having another sun rise (even if obscured by the clouds).
Funny how we humans don’t always appreciate our days like the birds do. We look at the external appearance, like the weather, and decide if this day is worth it or not. We allow external conditions – the weather, our bank account, or our relationship status – to determine the value we give to our life, here in this moment.
Your value, and the beauty of life, isn’t based on these temporary, external things. You inherently have value, just for Being. Your life is a miracle, each and every moment, just because It Is. Truly – the fact that any of us are alive, that we are part of this cycle of life on this rare and extraordinary planet that supports and sustains a vast array of beings, from microscopic to majestic, is miraculous. Think about it. You are part of that living miracle, and this moment in time is just as precious as any other – when you are truly Present with it.
The birds aren’t thinking about how big their nest is, or whether they will get enough seeds today, or if they are a good enough bird to sing. They aren’t questioning their value. They aren’t thinking about whether they are better or worse than other birds. They simply step out on that branch or telephone line, and sing their song. The birds are simply BEING who they are and allowing it to express into the world. No comparisons, judgments, or worries.
Singing your song is simply being and expressing your true nature. Let it out; open your voice and let the sound of your soul move through you. It doesn’t need to be loud or outrageous or amazing. It just needs to be you. The sound of the hawk and the sound of the junco are both needed to complete the symphony of nature. You don’t need a reason to justify it – you came here to authentically be who you are, and to be a part of All That Is. It wouldn’t be the same without you! So sing your song, today and every day, in every moment.
by Connie Habash | Jun 5, 2016 | Animals, Attachment, Awareness, Embodiment, Grounded, Nature, Paradox
Last month, I led a spiritual retreat at an idyllic farm, tucked into a secluded valley in Half Moon Bay, California. The focus of our day together was embodiment – being fully present, centered, grounded, and aware in our bodies and connected with the Earth.
In the afternoon, we immersed in a practice called Sit Spot; sitting outdoors, quiet and still, taking in whatever we experience from nature.
I sat on the edge of a field, facing some trees and the rising slope of a hill behind them. There was a gentle breeze, and my gaze lifted up to the clouds floating by. High in the sky, almost at the height of the clouds, I saw a hawk. It was slowly gliding in circles on the currents of air, as hawks often do. I couldn’t stop looking at it as it drifted higher and higher, further and further away over the distant hills until it was just a speck, and then disappeared from my view.
It struck me as an interesting contrast to the idea of embodiment – floating up higher and higher into the clouds, far above the earth, rather than deeply rooted in the soil, as we had much of the retreat. Earlier in the day, in our first Sit Spot practice, I had a very different encounter with an animal. Behind me on the edge of the field, I heard a scratching sound coming from the grass. As I slowly turned around, a gopher poked its head above ground, grabbed some grass in its teeth, and popped back into its hole. Several times, I saw the furry critter pop up, quickly grab a bite to eat – munch, munch, munch – and disappear again beneath the soil.
Many contrasts – one, gliding, slowly soaring, far above the ground, the other rapid, quick, close to the earth. The predator and the prey. The deeply grounded, close to the earth, and the elevated, expansive, above the fray. High and visionary, low and up close.
Was being embodied only about being close to the ground, feet rooted, in touch with the soil? Was soaring above it all spiritual but not embodied? I pondered these questions, but knew that it was all of that. Life, and spiritual life in particular, is a paradox. To be fully embodied – fully in this life, this thing called “my body”, this experience that is my journey – must include it all. Neither running off into lofty thoughts and deep meditation to the exclusion of the laundry and attending to my daughter’s needs, nor attached to completing my to-do list when my yoga mat calls and my soul longs for the joys of the garden.
We are both the soaring hawk and the burrowing gopher. If we cut ourselves off from either end of the spectrum – or the space in the middle – we aren’t fully awake and are missing the opportunity to embrace everything as it is, in this moment. The paradox of living and the spiritual path is to embrace the mundane and the transcendent, the earthly and the ethereal, equally essential and valuable.
I lay back on the grass and took it all in; the hawk and the gopher within me.
Ecotherapy is a sacred, magical, and very fun way to work with clients. Consistently, I find that nature brings exactly what is needed – even over the phone! Here’s a snippet of a powerful ecotherapy session full of synchronicity, messages, and inspiration.
If you’re willing to be patient and present – to wait a bit in the unknown – you’ll perceive the blessings showing up. No matter where you live, you can find life and inspiration; even on a busy urban street!. Here’s a snapshot from a couple years ago of a simple treasure that brought a beautiful insight.
A challenging hike (for me, that day!) to a pristine alpine meadow teaches me the power of presence, trust, and reveals my inner resilience.
As we departed the mini-meadow, the land of puff-balls emerged. Remember the wild, swirly “hair” of the 
Ambling down into the base of South Gate Meadow, we were greeted by lush green grasses and leaves unfolding from yellow arnica flowers, delicate white blooms, and the last of pink heather. Fiery patches of Indian Paintbrush set the meadow ablaze here and there, and if you looked carefully, you’d also find tiny blue flowers as well.
Sure enough, climbing higher to the upper reaches of the greenery, a stunning array of tiny waterfalls spilled down the rocks. We hiked higher and higher, up through muddy terrain on a steep ascent, attempting to reach the source from which the water emerged from the mountain.
Every morning, shortly after I wake, I do my “sit-spot” practice outside in our front yard. This is a practice of simply sitting and being present with everything in nature. It’s a beautiful way to begin my day with the freshness of the morning air, the sun beginning to peek through the leaves, the squirrels racing up and down the oak trees, and most of all, the birdsong.
Last month, I led a spiritual retreat at an idyllic farm, tucked into a secluded valley in Half Moon Bay, California. The focus of our day together was embodiment – being fully present, centered, grounded, and aware in our bodies and connected with the Earth.
