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April: On Nature
April 10
Today's reflection was inspired by a quote from "The Waste Land" by T.S. Eliot.
When has change or growth ever been simple or painless? Is the scab over your healing wound soft and pleasant, or is it hard and rough, pulling your skin tight beneath it?
And what of overcoming the loss of a loved one? Does emerging through to the other side of it stronger and wiser, with more love in your heart for them and those still with you not come with endless tears and sleepless nights?
Any sort of change or growth that is worth a damn has its price. It is part of being human, it is part of growing and aging, it is simply an inevitable part of life.
Always remember that out of that dead land, your roots will be stirred by the rain, but you will break through to bloom once again, beautiful and strong, ready for the sunshine. Always remember the lilacs are worth the price.
April: On Nature
April 9
Today's reflection was inspired by a quote from John Lubbock’s The Use of Life.
Something happened, and I don’t know when exactly—we can probably point our fingers at those who perpetuate and glorify the hustle culture, even before them, though we’re not here to do that—but something happened where we now believe that if we are not working or being productive every waking moment, then it is a waste of time.
You must firmly plant your feet and reject this notion. It’s disgustingly capitalist, and it’s patently false. We are humans after all, not robots.
We are part of nature, and do not exist to simply deplete it of its resources. It is perfectly natural and beautiful to rest, as we can see by observing nature, the animals, the insects, the birds—even the trees will rest in winter.
So, please, the next time those voices call out to you, shut—no, slam the door on them and tell them to not disturb you. You have more important things to do than to listen to them, like lying on the grass under the trees, or listening to the sound of water by a creek, or watching the clouds float across the sky.
It is all beautiful, and by no means a waste of time.
April: On Nature
April 8
Welcome to the 100th episode of the Everyday Human!
Today's reflection was inspired by a quote from Henry David Thoreau's journal.
We answer to so many voices. We are controlled by so many things—circumstances, events, and decisions from others. And perhaps most of all, time. But not in the natural sense of time, the kind that is seasonal, rather a human-made version of it.
And the hourglass becomes a prison for us, the bars of the minute and second hands caging us in.
But what if instead we lived with nature and with the seasons? What if we slept with the moon and woke with the sun? What if we embraced the chill air of winter and lazed in the summer heat? What if we drank the cider only after the apples were harvested in autumn, tasted the tomato and cantaloupe from the vine, still hot from the summer sun? What if we spun with the earth and changed our lives with the seasons? We would learn much about our planet and ourselves, I’d wager.
April: On Nature
April 7
Today's reflection was inspired by another quote from J.R.R. Tolkien, this time from The Fellowship of the Ring.
There is an important difference between loneliness and solitude. One can be devastating for your mental health, your physical health, and just your overall well-being. While the other can do wonders for your mental health, your physical health, and just your overall well-being. You can be lonely in a city of millions of people, and you can find happiness in solitude alone in the wilderness of the mountains, miles away from another soul and civilization.
But in these wild time, often to find solitude, you must be intentional about it. You must actively seek it out.
Spend time with nature and yourself, have a conversation with the wind and the trees and your soul, close your eyes and just breathe, leaving everything else behind, if only for a short while—your responsibilities will be waiting for you upon returning, you can be sure of that, but for now sit in the peace and quiet and think of a nice ending for your book.
April: On Nature
April 6
Today's reflection was inspired by a quote from one of Vincent van Gogh's letters to his brother, Theo van Gogh.
The traps are everywhere, and they’ll snag your arm, trip up your feet, and drop you into the bottomless pit of desire if you’re not careful. They’ll sell you the water that falls from the sky, the opportunity to move your body beneath fluorescent lights, the chance to drive hours and pay money to sleep in a bed that is not your own—not to mention the other, more obvious things, the flashy things like the new phone, car, computer, headphones, gaming system, watch, streaming service, or shopping app—whatever it might be.
And look, this is the world we live in. You shouldn’t feel bad for having this stuff, or wanting it—it’s almost impossible to resist it because the 24-hour targeted marketing campaigns are so ingrained in our lives that we don’t even notice them . . . that is until you break the glass.
How to do that?
Well, listen on and find out . . .
April: On Nature
April 5
Today's reflection was inspired by a quote from Maya Angelou's The Collected Autobiographies of Maya Angelou.
The mind can be a capricious and unpredictable thing, can't it? Just like the spring weather.
There might be an event or obligation in your future that you're dreading. You've gone through the scenario over and over in your mind and you can't help but see all the worst ways it could turn out.
But what happens in your imagination does not equal reality. What looks like rain can turn to clear skies with the sun shining through, and most of the time, that's the case.
So try and live in the present and be patient, you'll see how things turn out soon enough, and it probably won’t be as bad as you think.
April: On Nature
April 4
Today's reflection was inspired by a quote from Bluebeard's Egg by Margaret Atwood.
Something happens inside of us at a certain point, but you can’t hear it or feel it. You don’t even know it’s happening when it does. Somewhere amidst the evolutions of childhood to adolescence to adulthood, a switch is flipped that tells your brain it’s not good to be dirty. Or that being dirty is gross. That it’s unsightly or it will make you sick. That being dirt-free is the standard for which we should strive.
This is a terrible lie.
Humans were born in the dirt. And so it is a terrible switch that has been flipped that tells you to no longer love it, and if I could flip it back down and then break it from the wall of switches in everyone’s mind, I would.
But I would encourage you to just spend time outside. Play in the garden, go barefoot, get on your knees in the grass, in the dirt if you can—you can always wash it off, can’t you?
You can’t always be a child, but for a short time, every once in a while, you can undo what has happened to you at some strange point of growth and learn to love the dirt again—and at the end of the day, you will smell like the child who smells like the dirt.
April: On Nature
April 3
Today's reflection was inspired by a quote from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage by Lord Byron.
Our daily routines are filled to overflowing it feels like, often bursting with work tasks, errands, chores, and maybe some health and wellness activities and relaxation sprinkled in.
But how many of us include nature in the daily routine? How many of us make it a point to speak to the stars, watch the sunrise or sunset, or simply walk barefoot in the yard and look closely and carefully at the plants and trees?
If you do not already include nature in your daily life, how can you start today?
April: On Nature
April 2
Today's reflection was inspired by the poem "Wild Geese" by Mary Oliver.
One of the greatest lies we’ve ever adopted, ever believed as humans, is that we are separate from nature—or the idea that we somehow are above it and rule over it.
This separation is akin to attempting to pull apart the present from the past, or ripping the day from the night. It has led to a litany of problems for us as a species and as individuals, and the fact that we have forgotten that we are a part of nature too is leading to its unnecessary and early destruction by our own hands.
But it doesn’t have to be this way. We can still change course and remember our roots and work toward unification with nature—and do everything in our power to protect it now and far into the future.
April: On Nature
April 1
Today begins a new month, and with it, we say goodbye to the theme of March, which was On Death, and hello to a new theme of April: On Nature.
To kick us off, this episode was inspired by the poem “April Rain Song” by Langston Hughes.
I’d hear the rain start slow, then hammer down on the roof and my window faster, and it’d put a stop to whatever it was I was doing, and I’d move over to the window and look out and just watch as the world outside was transformed by it.
But that wasn’t enough. I needed to feel the change in the air, the temperature drop and the humidity, smell the petrichor.
And I guess my father felt the same way. The memories of my father are a heavy mix—the good, the bad, the in-between—but those quiet times out on the porch, listening to the rain . . . those were good nights. And from them, I learned to love the rain.
From the publisher's feed
Welcome to the Everyday Human podcast.
My name is Eastin DeVerna. Each day, I'll share a reflection written by me and inspired by literature, poetry, music, movies, video…
Together, we'll explore what it means to be human. Every month we'll walk a new path, taking a look at life, death, the universe, and everything in between.
Thanks for coming along.
For more, visit eastindeverna.com or join me on Instagram @the_everydayhuman.