It is morning, and I have settled into my office chair, a flat granite boulder beneath me and another one behind my back. After years of working in offices, it is a blessing to call the forest, the garden, and the local nature reserve my office. My office is where I AM.
I mean that not just in the sense of telecommuting, for once upon a time I did work for a big corporation from my home office. That was when my kids were babies, and it was such a blessing to be near them.
These days, however, I am grateful and blessed to say that my work is my own creation, not what someone else has assigned to me. My work is to be in the forest, in the garden, on the beach and by the lake. But for my presence in these places, there would be no work; the Work would not come to me in any other place. In Stephen King's On Writing, he says it's best to write behind closed doors, preferably at a humble desk place in the corner of the room, so as not to be distracted and not to allow ego to get in the way of the work. Nature, for me, is not a distraction.
Nature is my muse, my guide and my companion. She invites me out to play, to listen with my whole being and to paint her portrait in words on the electronic canvas where I write. I am the diligent and dutiful scribe. The wisdom of the natural world reminds me of my place in the cosmos, and my ego is awed into silence.
What, then, has Nature called me here to this garden place today to capture? I am sitting next to a pretty waterfall, one which begins with water pouring out of a slim crack between granite boulders. The water appears magically, as if summoned by a fairie incantation. Although I'm sure there is a pump somewhere that maintains the artifice, the waterfall is no less charming. It is captivating and I feel spellbound to watch it. And yet I realize that water is simply doing what water does, without (I might add) grumbling that it's "not going anywhere." It is content to make the circuitous loop, day in and day out, like a kid who gets immediately back in the roller coaster line after each ride, each still shouting "whee" on every ride.
Perhaps I have been called here today to find the exhilaration in the mundane. Perhaps I am here to remember to notice the magical appearance of Flow. Or perhaps I'm simply here to create a shortcut for the tiny ants crawlingacross my tablet. In any case, I am glad to be here in my Natural Muse office, watching ants march and water fall, and listening for my next assignment.