I am still being taught by my elemental friends and each lesson in the natural world is profound. The integration of this latest lesson is an ongoing process right now.
 
A friend and I planned a camping trip to the coast last month and we both had the same place on our list for a stop. It has been on my list for two years, since I first went to Tillamook on business and drove by the sign for Munson Falls. I remember thinking immediately “I’ve got to go there!” I was going to stop on my way back but somehow, I ended up coming home on another highway that day.
 
The modest rural road goes by a scattering of houses and suddenly, surprisingly, leads into a dense green forest that is home to the tallest waterfall in Oregon. I got the impression then that we had just left ordinary reality. Nature spirits, fae, and the hidden folk there create a subtle etheric matrix that makes it a most magical and timeless feeling place. As soon as I got out of the car, I felt pulled right into their world. The stream called to me and I explored its boulders that held plush green islands of vibrant plant spirits. I could feel the hidden folk in tree trunk hollows and under flowers.
 

From the small parking lot we started up the trail that ran beside the stream. Huge Douglas fir, ash and maple created a green canopy above. In a few minutes we came upon a railing around a viewing area and saw that the trail was closed off before we could get close to the falls. But we took the well-worn path around the gate anyway and went on just a bit further, wondering why the trail was closed. Then we saw a mountainous tangle of fallen tree trunks and branches across the stream leading up to the base of the falls. Nature had made its own barricade. Perhaps the nature spirits want to keep that part of their magic for themselves. Who can blame them - after all we humans don't have the best record when it comes to caring for them and their homes. It made sense then why the trail was closed. Anyone climbing on that to get to the falls is risking limb and life. We respected that, took pictures from there and headed back.

We strolled slowly, just taking in all the beauty. The place had a playful, innocent feel, and I felt a childlike curiosity about everything. Many interesting features caught my eye; unusually shaped stones, a cathedral-like space next to a tilted stump, lacy flowers in the trees. Two pale cream-colored butterflies came to flutter around us, and I realized I could feet their movements as small waves in my energy field! That stopped me in my tracks. My friend felt it too. We stood there feeling the butterflies until they moved away into the trees. The lesson was subtle and unexpected.
 
The remarkable experience got me thinking about the butterfly effect. For those not familiar with that, it’s basically the theory of interconnectedness. It uses the example that a butterfly flapping its wings in one part of the world can affect the weather thousands of miles away.  Some might think of it this as a rather unscientific hypothesis. I personally believe interconnectedness is a universal law, a theory that quantum science is exploring now.
 
As an energy practitioner I see it as an illustration of how we affect our world by not only what we do, but how we are. It’s how our energy field – with its frequency influenced by our thoughts and emotions – interacts with the universal web of life. When we are in nature and fully in the present moment, we are open to feeling that web. We can interact with nature spirits and beings on a different level, like feeling the flight of a butterfly. When we keep in mind that we are also the butterfly, we may take greater care of our own energy field, our thoughts, emotions and actions.
 
Some thoughts to ponder in your practice this month:
 
What vibration are we sending out and how is that being felt or perceived by the people close to us, nature, the collective consciousness?
 
And what vibrations are we picking up from our environment, people we spend time with, social media?
 

I walked by the place where an old red oak had stood for at least 100 years on campus. There was nothing to show where it had been, no stump remained. It’s now just a patch of grass that is a lighter shade of green than the surrounding lawn. But I remember its huge branches making so much shade, and the funny hollow in the base that looked like a perfect home for faeries. I sent a blessing to any of its essence that was still in the ground; tiny adrift root threads and sawdust mulched into the soil.

The campus daily news wrote about the tree removal due to structural issues that made it unsafe. I watched the arborists slowly dismember it over several days.  One day I was watching them work from a bench nearby and I felt like it was the day for honorable closure.  Groups of crows came and settled in the surrounding trees. I felt the energy of nature spirits circling all around the area, and the hidden folk; faeries, elementals, elves, and dryads in solemn respect for the old oak. As I tuned in, I got the message that the essence of the tree would always remain in some form. It would remain in the decades of composted leaves that had enriched the soil, the acorns that squirrels had stored away and forgotten, the pollen from the flower buds that dusted into the cracks and crevices of nearby buildings and fields.  The spirit of the tree was moving on, but the vibration of all it had been is in the energy imprint of the area. The nature spirits knew that. They honored its energy as well as witnessed its transformation. I sent my respect as well. I thanked it for everything it was, grateful that I got to know it, and let it know that I would miss it. I wished it a good journey home. The sadness was there, but the honorable closure gave it a place to settle within me.

I’ve been in a large online study group with shamanic teacher Sandra Ingerman all this year. She has been talking to us a lot about honorable closure as being a way to acknowledge loss and endings. By honoring death, we respect and revere life. It doesn’t mean we can’t grieve. It doesn't mean we don't feel the pain when someone we love dies. But for me there is a comfort in recognizing that the cycle and flow of energy does not disappear or end with the death of the third dimensional form.

This is also a way to honor other things in our lives that pass away; relationships, cars, jobs, ways of being in the world. We can honor them for the experiences; nourishment received, services rendered, and lessons learned, while deeply acknowledging what we are feeling. Simply thanking them for everything they have been and given helps create an ending for our own peace and fertile ground for fresh starts. Honorable closure is a vital part of energy work and shamanic practice. It helps us move forward, and it also sends a beautiful energy out into the world. And we need that now more than ever.

One of my biggest joys this year has been deepening my relationship with Nature Spirits. They have told me to come visit them in out of the way spots, off the beaten path. There are less distractions that way and I can immerse myself in the experience for deeper teaching.

Recently I took a new forest hike on an unmarked trail off a main trail.  I was looking for a creek that ran nearby and after a half mile or so I heard it bubbling and singing. The trail was uphill and winding and I kept going, looking for a spot where it met the creek. I rounded a bend and saw that the trail dipped down and the creek crossed it in a beautiful cascade of small steps before it dropped off in a tiny waterfall.  Upstream the ferns and bushes grew over a quiet area that looked to be an ideal place for faeries to play. It was incredibly beautiful, and a feeling of magic made my senses light up.

For a moment I thought about continuing to explore what might be around the next bend. I looked up the trail ahead and was startled to see a gnome staring back at me. It was easily seen in the mossy tree stump, and its energy felt a little stern. The first thing that crossed my mind was that it is guarding the trail and I’m not to go any further. I said hello and asked if I could go farther down the trail. I felt the answer as a definite no.  I asked if I could stay there at the creek crossing and did not get a no. In my book, that’s a yes. I took off my shoes and put my feet in the creek.  I glanced at the gnome every so often, amazed at how strong and animated its energy was.  

There is nothing quite like Elementals. Everything that exists on Earth is made up of Elementals, including our bodies. In ordinary realty we think of them as earth, air, fire and water, but they prefer to be called Gnomes, Sylphs, Salamanders and Undines. We can describe their qualities and meet them and engage with them. However, we can’t easily describe what they are because they are in both the physical and non-physical realms.

A gnome is an earth Elemental. It is earth, and it is also the spirit of earth. Great caretakers, they tend soil, plants, stones, minerals and are grounded, methodical and helpful with protection and abundance. I could also sense the undines, the water Elementals, in the creek, but I couldn’t really see them.  Elementals choose the level and form of interaction they make with us. I have never had an elemental interact with me in ordinary reality as strongly as this gnome did.

I left a small offering in gratitude for the beauty of the place and the meeting with the nature spirits and Elementals. I took a few pictures and headed back to the main trail. On my hike out, I thought about why the gnome had stopped me from going on down the trail. Maybe it was being protective of other beings that lived back farther in the forest. Or maybe it was being protective of me. I wondered if there was a cougar den back there, as sightings happened in the area a few times a year.

Later I looked at the pictures I took and almost fell over. In the very first one a trick of the sunlight and shadow had formed a detailed image of a cat next to the gnome.  I had a strong feeling then that the gnome was guarding me from disturbing a cougar.  Or guarding the cougar from being disturbed by me.

Gratitude filled me. This was a powerful lesson about trusting my second attention, and the messages I receive.  The experience also solidly brought home the truth that as we open to knowing nature as beings instead of objects, we can communicate in remarkable ways.  But it requires offering respect and a receptive heart instead of projecting the outward force of mental logic. That can be difficult for humans to do sometimes. It is fortunate that nature is patient.