What do you want me to know, crashing waves?

I wrote this in my journal on September 21, 2026, perched on the edge of a cliff at the Esalen Institute in Big Sur, California. It was the morning after a three-day workshop facilitated by my two favorite nature-inspired mindfulness teachers, Mark Coleman and Lori Schwanbeck. The practices we learned had primed the pump for Nature’s messages to come through.

It was the rocks, not the waves, who answered first:

You can hold your ground against the force of the waves. You must expect the waves, big or small, because the tides are constant. Getting wet supports life. Seeds need moisture to sprout. The more forceful the contact of those waves, the more your edges soften. Transform the impact into a joyful, uplifting, liberating SPLASH.

 

 

Smiling, I recorded the rocks’ message and put my pen back down, redirecting my gaze to the Pacific Ocean. Marine birds, too far away for me to identify, landed gently on the surface. I wondered what other life was out there that I couldn’t see.

I expanded this question to Nature in my journal:

What growth is happening in the world that I can’t see? What problems are being solved in the world that I can’t see?

Nature responded:

So much, my friend! Look at the people who self-selected to attend this workshop with you.

About 40 of us had participated in Mark and Lori’s “Awake in the Wild: Awareness in Nature as a Path of Belonging” workshop. The format was very different from the weeklong silent meditation retreats that I try to attend annually. As an introvert, I look forward to those opportunities to unplug completely, so I was worried the workshop would be less impactful for me.

I was wrong.

Just days before we arrived, the frightening headlines about AI’s threat to humanity had spread like the wildfires that had closed Esalen for several weeks prior to our workshop. The answer to my question to Nature was embodied in my fellow participants.

In what felt like true synchronicity, I just happened to share meals and deep conversation with three different professionals working to keep humanity at the forefront of AI. The details of their work are less important than the fact that I now know incredibly smart, heart-forward humans, from senior AI developers to academics, whose purpose work is to be part of the solutions we need. Their work won’t make the headlines, but it’s happening at the same time as the alarming news is paralyzing many of us.

Back on the cliff, the ocean as a whole whispered a message that broadened my view:

The crashing waves are only at my edges. In my expansiveness, the surface ripples are just the skin of the graceful dance beneath. Marine mammals and fish rock gently in the currents, while plant life sways in constant motion. The crashing waves are only an infinitesimal portion of the whole.

This realization soothed my nervous system and sparked the question, How can I be part of the solution?

Nature’s response:

Share your energy. Inspire people to get outside, reconnect to wonder, awe, and the beauty of the present moment. Invite them to feel the sense of belonging that Nature provides, the delight and joy that we can tap into as an antidote to despair.

In the spirit of that call to action, I offer these photos of Esalen to soothe and inspire, following Mary Oliver’s instructions for living a life:

Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.

All photos © Martha Brettschneider