BY MATTHEW ROBERTSON
What if a secret ingredient for transforming what ails us – everyday irritations as well as the deeper wounds we carry – has been growing in the ground beneath our feet all along?
Humanity has long believed that our intelligence sits at the apex of life. Indeed, we’ve attained remarkable achievements throughout our storied past. Yet one aspect of nature consistently eludes our mastery: ourselves. What if the other intelligences around us have essential wisdom to offer?
For the last four years I’ve made my home in the verdant rainforest along Costa Rica’s southern pacific coast. As I planned my relocation, it felt important to familiarize myself with the land to see if I truly aligned with it. I heard there was an ancient Ceiba tree – long considered a “symbol of the universe” by the indigenous people here – on the property I was staying at, and took the opportunity to trek down for a solo meditation ceremony. My question was, “is this the right place for me?” And I was met with an unexpected answer.
As I took my seat between two of the Ceiba’s giant roots, and let my shoulder length hair out of my zen-style man bun, the voice of nature responded; a swarm of biting flies attracted to my unusual scent found live-giving nutrients in the sweat dripping down my face! As my solemn ritual turned into a fight or flight embodiment exercise, a message slowly formed in my mind. Surprisingly, it was not one of rebuke and banishment like one might assume. Instead, a gentler, more subtle meaning arrived to my mental mailbox: This place requires patience and perseverance. Living here is a constant negotiation with nature. And, if I can learn to live harmoniously within its rhythms, it will transform me. Welcome to your new and wild home.
When we slow down and look inward, we discover something profound: we are part of a universal intelligence extending far beyond our own organism, a common source we share with all life. The natural world operates through an intelligence intricately interwoven with our own—balanced ecosystems, regenerative cycles, and the breath of life itself.
Consider the patterns everywhere: trees mirror the structure of human lungs, both breathing into and out of their systems what they require for life. Rivers disperse nutrients just as our veins pump blood to vital organs. Root systems mirror the branching of neurons in our brains, both transmitting information through vast interconnected networks. These are not coincidences but expressions of a shared intelligence.
With practice, we can learn the language of this universal intelligence and identify the blockages within ourselves that prevent harmony with it. Like soil composting decay into nourishment, we can transform our wounds into renewed energy for growth. As we deepen our relationship between inner and outer, the natural world becomes an ally, exemplar, and teacher in our quest for balance and understanding.
The more we become aware of our inner landscape, the more we naturally align with the outer territory we inhabit in our everyday experience. Instead of navigating an uncertain terrain, rife with peril and laborious responsibility, the natural world becomes a symphony of simple reminders of the coherence and interrelationship between all things. The sudden breeze inspires a deep breath. The sound of rain cleanses our prior stresses. The morning light fills us with the possibilities of the coming day. We begin to see our suffering originates primarily in our own minds and beliefs and has no perduring basis in the elements around us.
This is work that demands courage to face what we carry within us: the pain we’ve avoided and the fixed ideas and beliefs we’ve cultivated in an attempt to protect ourselves from truly feeling it. It requires that we cultivate deep respect for the wisdom and autonomy of other intelligences. With dedication, we can clarify our minds and invoke an awareness that recognizes universal intelligence expressing itself through all forms. When we live informed by this recognition, we create conditions where every being can flourish.
The key is slow, steady moments of mindfulness, over and over again. Eventually, it’s not only the natural world that reminds us of the deep complexity and intelligence that flows around us and through us. Even the mundane, everyday moments – traffic, emotionally charged disagreements, or our monthly budget – can become fulfilling and celebratory acts of staying in alignment with the wisdom of reality. We learn to make life itself our practice of attunement.
We need only turn to what’s already stirring beneath the surface. Or in the case of our fly friends, to whatever else is buzzing in the space around the nest.
