When stressed, and aren’t we all, Mr. Rogers said “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.”
Also, I think: Listen for the life. The helpers are part of it. The buzzing work of insects, the subtle rustle of trees, the constant chatter of people. The throb of the world. The pulse of the universe. The densely diverse microscopic life in forest soil or ocean water. Bathe in it, be in it, take your place.
Maybe this is why we are happier and saner with trees near us – the growth of other living things makes up our beginnings, our instinctive home, our habitat.
“Om, shanti, shanti, shanti,” to me, is a call to remember we are all of us integral to the active, dynamic, electricity of nature. It’s powerful but perhaps inconvenient, it’s daunting but crucial. The sorrow cannot overcome it.
The forests of fiction are full of specific stories but also of moods and tones, acting as allegories for the kinds of rich natural worlds we crave. If we mentally wander through these places, what can we learn about ourselves and our place, our purposes and our higher nature, the mindblowing nature of that densely diverse life in micro and macro scopic realms?