Have you ever noticed that our perspective changes after having a traumatic experience? It was very evident to me as I went through a recent bout of acute appendicitis, resulting in the removal of my appendix.

My recuperation from major surgery has lent much time for further thought on my experience. Now that I have a mindset to think on it a bit, what is this “out of the blue” experience bringing to the forefront? What is possibly behind how sudden it was? I have never believed in coincidences and this time is no different.

Before my extreme discomfort began, I had recently been for my Zero Balancing appointment with my practitioner in Saranac Lake. There, we had discussed my outlook on life and my apprehensions about aging and growing older now that I am turning 74.

Of course there are things I can no longer do physically and energetically and don’t expect to ever be able to do again. I can accept that as a product of the body slowing down after years of output. It has served me well. But there are still things I “want” to do both physically and energetically. That’s the rub; that’s the challenge. Am I being unrealistic in that area? Is my mind thought stuck on pursuing the same old things? Do I need a change in direction, enabling me to focus my energies with a new perspective, while still using my talents and abilities?

When I have a decision to make, Mother Nature is my “go to” person. I usually take a quiet walk and spend time sitting in the greenery of the forest or maybe beside a watery glade to quiet my inner being. I look around and feel her gentle wind blowing across my cheeks and I am calmed. I can share my strife with her and she listens, accepting what I say without condemnation. I feel only her support of me as I struggle to make sense of my feelings. And then in my quietude, I gain insight … I gain understanding … I gain clarity.

But today, I cannot walk among the trees. Today, because of my recuperation, I sit here in my home in a green stuffed chair and watch out the window as a spring storm surges down the valley. The large branches of the spruce tree outside my window bounce and sway as the howling winds toss them around like so much confetti. The rhythm is uneven and pulsing erratically. Rain and sleet descend upon the window pane and run in rivulets down the glass. As I watch, I am reminded of life itself with all of its ups and downs. We never know when the storm may arrive and how strong it will be or how long it will last. And will it be just a gentle rain or will it mount to hurricane force? Definitely like life.

As I continue watching, I realize the visibility is worsening. The mountain opposite me is no longer clear. There is a blanket of heavy mist somewhat obstructing my view. As I sit fixated by what’s happening before me, the mountain becomes completely obliterated. I can’t see anything but white … everywhere … white.

My attention is immediately drawn to what Mother Nature may be teaching me right outside my window. The scene continues to remain for a bit. I watch carefully … and then slowly, ever so slowly, the mist begins to dissipate. And as the mist leaves, I feel a lessening of my fears of growing older. Can that be? Is that the message here?

I sit back in awe at what I just witnessed and its effect on me. Nature has just shown me that even when I cannot see the rest of today, tomorrow or next week, those stresses will eventually pass like the mist outside my window.

Harboring anxieties or fears about the future serves only to obstruct our view so we cannot “see” our way forward. My anxieties about growing older could become a block, preventing me from giving to and receiving from others. But I am not a victim here. I have a choice. Do I choose to concentrate on the negatives of aging, growing more and more fearful every day? Or do I choose to seek a new direction for my talents and abilities and in that way become more trusting in goodness … in love … in light, knowing I will be okay?

I know that I have always loved to write since I was exposed to poetry in fourth grade. I have found that when I express my negative feelings through written words, not only is the emotion modified but I seem to understand the original situation quite differently. It’s as if quieting the emotion through release of it has opened up room for further thought and understanding to enter. And so it began in my youth — using writing as a coping skill for all the stresses and turmoil I was experiencing.

Many times in my life, I have felt totally alone in my inner stresses, like no one else could have felt as I did at the time. However, I know now that it was never true. A deep desire to help others realize that they aren’t alone, either, has been growing within me.

So, I know I’m not to turn my back on writing. But maybe I need to direct my writing to everyday struggles we experience, emphasizing how we are never “alone” in those struggles and in those fears.

That’s it! That’s the whole message!

Thank you, Mother Nature, for so vividly guiding me to a new perspective in my life. May each of us choose to live the remainder of our years, however many we have left, without the fears that can obstruct our view but with the light that can shine through the heaviest of mists, guiding us onward, forever focused on possibilities, forever focused on living our life.

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Debby Havas is a local author living in Jay. Her writings express her experiences in the healing energies of Mother Nature.