“The Value of Stillness” - Mindfulness Monday Marsh Walk
Mindfulness can open the doors to a life otherwise unseen by the busy mind, especially to the wonders that only offer themselves to a slower and arguably wiser way of living. There is a value to stillness; it is the essence of clarity. For example, when observing a waterbody after a storm, overtime the sediments fall and that which exists within become visible. This is a metaphor I often use to welcome the gap between body and mind. To pause in the in-between where no thoughts exist, and everything of that moment is born. This Monday, February 5, we applied this very practice to observing the marsh at Cedar Beach through Back to the Bay’s first Guided Meditation and Marsh Walk. Led by two members of our amazing team - Kimberly Manzo and myself, Ella Gatfield - participants welcomed “The Value of Stillness” through attuning to the present, assimilating to their surroundings, and later learning about the workings of the marsh in winter.
While walking the marsh before participants arrive, a Snowy egret provides Kim and I company. This small white heron is the ideal mentor when it comes to embracing stillness. In the practice of meditation, one is carving out space between stimulus and response - between thought and action. The heron stands incredibly still, completely attuned to its surroundings. From this state of stillness, undistracted by action, a well-informed decision is often made. For the egret in the marsh, this tends to be reflected as a successful catch of fish or crustacean. He flies away into the cloudless sky as our guests arrive well dressed for the cold but fresh air. We circle by the edge of the marsh, and I lead the group into a guided meditation, shifting attention to each of our 5 senses. The senses aid our connection of inner-self to the outer-world. As we attune to our final sense of the meditation - sight - we each open our eyes to a different view of understanding, and proceed to explore the marsh at our own accord.
One of our participants looking out on the marsh.
Kim, our Marine Educator and habitat wiz, gathers us back together to lead us through the marsh. She explains that while the Salt marsh cordgrass (Sporobolus alterniflorus) appears to be dead, their plant parts underneath the salt ponds are very much alive. The top half of the plant is brown, yet it provides nutrients to the lower half of the plant where the rhizobial roots connect to the poorly draining mineral soils. The Salt marsh grass exists in a semi-dormant state, providing habitat for Killifish and Fiddler crabs, which burrow into the sediment and root systems to avoid freezing, entering a near catatonic state.
The plants of the salt marsh grow based on salt tolerance, with Sporobolus being the most tolerant - it is able to thrive being inundated by the tide twice a day. The middle zone of the marsh is made up of plants such as salt meadow cordgrass (Sporobolus pumulis), which can tolerate occasional salt exposure and flooding. The highest elevations of the marsh, made up of cedar trees and other native plants and shrubs, are able to withstand limited salt exposure. Some of these plants boast a rusty hue, and others, bay berries that are a welcome source of nutrients to many birds and animals. With deciduous foliage fallen, the visibility of resident birds and those who migrate south for winter are apparent, all the more in striking colors and songs. Blue jays, Cardinals, Chickadees, Canadian geese, and others make their presence known. In the distance I hear a Downy woodpecker, perhaps searching for insects in the bark or staking its territory.
Kim Manzo at the front, guiding participants to the edge of a salt pond to discuss the symbiotic relationship between marsh grass and tides.
Long Island is experiencing an especially stormy winter this year, with strong winds and heavy precipitation. While there has been some coastal destruction in parts of the Island, in moderation, winter storms help to churn up and incorporate the decaying plant matter back into the marsh sediment to be composted. This process provides essential energy for spring growth. The marsh helps protect us from winter storms by capturing floodwaters and slowly releasing them back into our larger waterbodies, filtering storm runoff in the process. Marsh grass also sequesters carbon from the atmosphere - a process often referred to as Blue Carbon - playing a critical role in mitigating the effects of climate change, such as rising atmospheric temperatures (largely a result of fossil fuel). In short, marsh habitat is a precious resource that is home to many vital species, provides a buffer against coastal erosion, and helps regulate global warming.
As we wrap up our mindful marsh ecology tour, we see seagulls dropping shells on the pebble-ridden shoreline of Cedar Beach, eager to snack on the meat hidden inside. We share conversation about horseshoe crabs and plovers, and compare observations made over the years.
When we slow sown, we lay the foundation for speeding up with greater intention and awareness. When we do so, we see all kinds of things we were missing, out in the world, and inside ourselves. As the Greek philosopher Heraclitus of Ephesus said, “the only constant in life is change”. With the rate of ecological devastation increasing largely due to climate change, we can all play a part in bettering where the story leads. To me, this shift in understanding is a kind of liminal space - the precipice of greater awareness yet to be comprehended. Regarding environmentally-forward conversation and implementation, this can evoke a sense of vulnerability and fear. I know it does for me, but I believe life’s most turbulent moments are where the best and most enduring transformations occur. That is, when we choose to see them for what they are; to accept what the in-between offers up, utilizing it as a template to move forward with greater intention.
Next time you find yourself by a body of water, in the woods, or looking up at the night sky, observe where you are and feel your relationship to the universe as a whole. As we deepen our connection to Nature, and cultivate a greater awareness of Self (oneness), we can take environmental processes and systems that are abstract or hidden beyond our view less for granted. This sense of gratitude will not restore biodiversity or remedy rising atmospheric temperatures, but it seems unlikely that we can solve any significant environmental problems without it.
Kim and I hope to see you at our next Guided Marsh Walk and Meditation on Monday, March 4. We will enter into the next chapter of the marsh’s cycle: “The Emergence of Life”. You can find the sign-up link below: