Do You Feel the Magic? Rediscovering Connection Through Meandering in Nature

Wandering, listening, and the subtle ways the natural world speaks back.

Welcome to this edition of Walking the Liminal!

I’m glad you’re here! And if you’re a new subscriber, a special welcome!
All photos in today’s post are by me.

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Do You Feel the Magic?

There is something extraordinary within nature. A vibration, a hum. It feels like magic, a quiet joie de vivre. But it asks something of us…

and that is to meet it.

This isn’t about hiking as a workout,
nor observing nature like a documentary.
Nothing wrong with these, but that’s not what I’m speaking to here.

This is a meditative type of participation,
where attention becomes a portal and curiosity the guide.

Listening through our senses and bodies,
to the song and story of the landscape.
Unique to each place, time of day and season.
Where a relationship is recognized and a conversation begins.
In this liminal space… the boundary softens,
we’re no longer entirely sure where we end and everything else begins.

And yet, this way of relating isn’t how many of us were taught.

As a Child

I grew up in a time when one could leave home in the morning and not return till lunch or even dinner. Many of those days were spent wandering and playing in the woods. It felt natural, familiar, comfortable. But there were also places that stirred wariness, even fear. I avoided the swampy area without question, and I made sure that I was home by nightfall, as if the land itself held different rules once the light began to fade.

And still, a subtle message crept in…
Through family, school, and culture,
I learned that nature was something separate.
That I was here… human, defined, contained.
And nature was there… something other, something else.
I could enter it, but it wasn’t something I belonged to.

Meandering

I could feel the pull before I had words for it, an inner tug calling me to the hills near my home. I had to answer. I had to go.

Upon arriving, I set off on the path. Not with any particular destination in mind except wanting to visit the stream at some point. Beyond that, this was a time to meander.

Usually, when I hike with others, there’s a pace, a plan. But this time I let my inner compass align with this land.
Go straight, turn here, pause there.

Oak Tree

Within ten minutes, I found myself drawn to an old, gnarly oak tree, to stop and stay awhile.

Beneath her branches sat a picnic table that became my place to rest, my sit spot. I loved how the weeping willow type boughs of this oak tree brushed the earth. Captivated by the strange, white spheres that clustered together in the tree. And a lot of my attention was drawn to the several birds that played, sang and moved through her canopy.

I named her Mother Oak.

Later, I learned those spheres were insect galls. Protective nurseries created by tiny wasps for their larvae. Harmless to the tree, these wasps release chemicals that redirect the tree’s growth into forming the ball. What spoke to me was the relationship it revealed between species, this intricate co-existence.

Time felt suspended while I was with Mother Oak. And when it was time to go, I bid my farewells in voice, offering my gratitude before continuing on.

Stream

My next sit spot was at the edge of a small stream. A threshold between water and land.

I’ve always felt a deep need to be near water. My entire life I lived within reach of the ocean. Water’s rhythmic presence soothes my soul. Even in its unpredictability, there’s a power. Water has its own liminality, ebb and flow. Gentle and wild.

This small stream carried all of that. Its sweet, melodic sound, the way the light danced and glistened across its surface, and its steady movement seemed to draw me along with it. All of this bringing me a deep sense of calm.

Water speaks… if we listen.

In its flow, it reminds us we're not separate,
but in relationship, part of the current moving through all things.

Faery Portal

As I walked up the trail from the stream, and before leaving the forest, I came upon a faery portal.

At the time of this walk, I was writing about Beltane, a sabbat whose veil is said to be thin. Where Samhain turns us toward descent, darkness, mystery and our ancestors. Beltane opens into emergence, light, and life-force. A time long associated with the fae, these subtle and unseen presences, guardians of nature.

Something in me recognized the moment.

I gathered a few wildflowers that were abundantly blooming nearby and offered them at the base of this opening and spoke a blessing.

There wasn’t a visible response…
but I did sense a delicate shift.
A felt sense of acknowledgment.
Relationship.

Snake

After crossing the liminal space from forest into open meadow, I continued along the trail until I suddenly stopped.

In the path before me was Snake.

She wasn’t moving, her body still…
except for the steady, rhythmic flick of her forked tongue.

Not as a threat, but a way of sensing, reading the air, gathering information.

She was a gopher snake. A non-venomous constrictor, that resembles a rattler. No wonder she’s here for these hills are alive with gophers!

I had crossed paths with Snake just a week prior.
So this didn’t feel random. It felt like a message.

I’ve never feared snakes. If anything, I’m drawn to them. They carry deep symbolic meaning for me, that of renewal, transformation and the shedding of what no longer fits. In Hinduism, a path I walked for many years, the snake represents Kundalini, the life force that moves and dances along the spine.

I could feel the mirror in it…
a reflection of where I find myself now: shedding one chapter and entering another.

Call to the Hawk

Same park, but from a week prior

Earlier on the trail, I found myself speaking a prayer out loud, calling to Hawk. I felt her presence. And humbly asked if she would please show herself to me. Red-tailed hawks have long been one of my totem animals, carrying deep personal meaning.

Later, after passing Snake, saying my goodbyes to Mother Oak, and offering my gratitude to the land, I continued toward the trail’s end. Then came the gentle nudge…

Look up.

YES! There she was.
Circling once overhead, then soaring in the direction of Mother Oak.

My heart expanded with awe and love. I stood still, with an inner bow of gratitude. Watching her return toward Mother Oak was a beautiful confirmation.

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Integration

Meandering is a powerful way to immerse in nature. Each landscape holding its own ongoing conversation, one we can enter if we slow down enough to listen. And why I found myself speaking out loud, not TO the land, but WITH it. I’m part of the exchange, already in relationship with what’s unfolding.

When guided by intention, this kind of wandering becomes a moving meditation. Each step, each pause, opens space for the details of light, sound, and texture to arrive more fully.

With attentive listening, it’s hearing how the land communicates. Birdsong, rustling leaves, shifting winds, and the quieter language beneath sound. A sense of connection emerges, and the immediacy of the present moment becomes palpable.

Where the boundary between human and land blurs.

From there, a feeling of belonging naturally arises, a gratitude as a form of reciprocity within this living world.

And perhaps this is the magic…
not something we find, something we enter.

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Offerings:

I offer tarot readings and one-on-one sessions, a held space of reflection designed to accompany your inner explorations, integrations and alignment with the rhythms of life. If this resonates, feel free to send me a message or visit my website for more information.

Thanks for reading!

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