The shrill, shrieking bleep reverberates around my skull and my eyelids flicker upwards, although the difference between eyes open and shut is negligible. It’s dark. It’s Monday morning. And I know that’s it’s below freezing out there. I can hear the sound of my neighbour, scraping ice off his car as he gets ready to go to work. And I ask myself “Whyyyyyyy am I doing this?” But I know why, really.
I was just at the stage where the cold starts to seep into your bones, and you know it’s time to exit. Gracefully gliding 😉 towards the shore, I spotted an elderly, but spritely looking chap taking photos of the golden-orange sunrise. “Morning” I hollered. “What a glorious morning.” “Isn’t it?” he agreed. He was saying something else, but I couldn’t quite hear so I splashed my way towards him and waded out.
He had a warmth about him and, I sensed, a desire to talk. And I knew, somehow, it was important to hear what he had to say.
“I come out every morning at sunrise. I’ve done it every day since my wife died 18 months ago. I’m 73.” My breath caught, and not because of the chill, as I stood in the cold air, dripping lake water from my wetsuit in front of him.
He told me how he walks every morning in memory of his beloved wife, revisits places and walks they did together, takes photos and videos and uploads them to his YouTube channel. He told me how he still feels full of grief but is accepting of that as he doesn’t want, ever, to forget how much he loved her. Derek Teather and his beloved wife Briony.
His connection to the natural world and the places that had meant something to them both, was crystal clear. It brought him the space and the time to reflect, to find healing and a purpose to get out. It connected him to the beauty of the landscapes around him whilst finding meaning in the shared experiences and remembrances of his life with his soul-mate.
The sky had by now turned pale blue and the early, pinky-orange light had hardened to a sharp yellow.
Life is a balance of both. In nature, we can find experiences and meanings which profoundly enrich our lives. On the surface, I’d simply gone for a swim with friends, for laughs, company and a mini-morning-adventure with added bacon sandwiches. But underneath this, something deeper had happened. Without knowing, or even trying, by osmosis (or even a little bit of magic) I’d found myself experiencing many of the elements of the 5 ways to well-being and the 5 ways to nature connectedness.
I’d been active, (walked and swum – in 8 degrees water!) taken notice with my senses (saw the incredibly moving sun rise, felt the icy water on my skin, smelt the bacon cooking – not quite nature, but still, mmm….) felt my emotions (spellbound and filled with joy at the glory of the early morning views, grateful for the shared experience with good friends) connected (with friends, with a stranger and with the natural world all around us) gave to others (the tomato sauce, but more importantly, much more, my time and myself to really listen, with compassion, to someone else’s story) found beauty and meaning (in a shared moment of nature’s awe and wonder with friends and with a someone I had never met before).
