The Survivors: A Reflection on Life's Persistence

Spring - Week 13 - On Those Who Remain and Those Who Rest

In Her Nature is a year long exploration into the healing power of the natural world. Season by season, setting out to awaken the spirit, and rekindle joy. The weekly journal of a neighborhood, its plants and birds and creatures — and how they are helping repair a heart and rebirth a soul.

As I take my daily walk in my neighborhood, spring is unfolding in a symphony of new life. Delicate buds are unfurling, bees are testing fragile wings, and an array of seedlings are pushing through soil up toward the Colorado sun. It's a cacophony of vibrant renewal, as if the world is exhaling all the life it held in reserve through winter months.

Yet in this season of beginnings, there lies a hidden story that often goes unnoticed in our wonder. Every living being we encounter - each chickadee flitting between branches, each dandelion claiming a patch of lawn, each squirrel gathering forgotten acorns, is nothing short of a miracle. They are the survivors. The ones who made it through. The ones who dared to claim even a moment of existence.

We must remember that for every bit of life who greets our eyes this springtime, countless others won't live to see the season unfold. For each survivor we encounter, there's an unseen testament of triumph against tremendous odds. The prairie dog that spotted the eagle's shadow just in time, the aspen sapling that thrived despite hungry deer, the butterfly that weathered the early thunderstorm — these beings represent nature's countless quiet victories against overwhelming challenges. They stand before us as living monuments to persistence in a world that offers no guarantees.

As I walk among these survivors, I'm struck by how different our human experience has become. We've built our lives inside. A protective bubble. How fortunate we are to no longer worry about our basic survival, food, shelter, and safety, and that of our children. While this remains an unrealized dream for millions around the world, those of us reading these words likely do so from the relative comfort of our home.

Our fundamental relationship with existence has shifted dramatically. We expect to survive, while the rest of nature only hopes to.

Perhaps this is why we're so drawn to witnessing the wilds of life. It reconnects us with a more profound awareness about existence. Each encounter with nature is a meeting with an enduring presence, a life that has already won countless battles we never had to fight.

From the one-footed collared dove that still manages to find food, to the maple tree growing sideways after being knocked down — they carry visible reminders of survival's cost. And yet, in their continued striving, they embody a wordless wisdom about what it truly means to be alive.

They don't question whether life is worth the struggle; they simply persist. Maybe there's wisdom in that simplicity. A reminder for us that being alive itself is extraordinary, regardless of the challenges that accompany it. Our human tendency to take survival for granted blinds us to the everyday miracle of existence that unfolds in every garden, forest, and sidewalk crack around us.

This Spring

How can I love this spring when its pulling me

through my life faster than anytime before it?

When five separate dooms are promised this decade

and here I am, just trying

to watch a bumble bee cling to its first purple flower.

I cannot save this world, but look how it's trying,

once again, to save me.

— James A Pearson

And yet, for all our celebration of the survivors, there remains another story that deserves equal reverence — that of those who didn't make it. For every resilient being that persists, there are countless others whose journey ended far too soon. The transition between winter and spring brings particular poignancy to this reality, as the landscape reveals both renewal and loss in the same frame.

Often in spring, more animals attempt perilous crossings of our roads, their migratory paths and territories intersected by our highways of human convenience. I'm often moved to tears when driving past their still forms on the asphalt. I have to fight the urge to stop and move them gently to a quiet resting place among the tall grasses. My heart aches knowing their final moments on earth were spent beside the rush of indifferent traffic, their passing barely registered by the world that claimed them.

I think of my dearest neighbors who found a perfect, tiny baby rabbit in their yard last weekend after a late spring snow — its delicate form touched by winter's unexpected return. In that moment, something stirred in all of us, a recognition of how precarious and precious each breath of life can be. When we encounter these small, still moments in nature, they open our hearts in ways we don't expect. They remind us that even the briefest lives leave ripples in our world, teaching us something about tenderness, about paying attention, about holding space for both beauty and loss. And perhaps most gently, they remind us to be kind with ourselves as we navigate our own seasons of change.

While many drive past fallen creatures with averted eyes, there are those who place wildflowers beside fallen sparrows, who bury the squirrel found beneath the oak tree, who pause to witness rather than ignore these small tragedies. In these acts of mindfulness, we recover something essential about our own humanity — the capacity to honor all phases of existence, not just the triumphant ones.

Perhaps true reverence for life requires us to bear witness to its entirety — both its tenacious persistence and its inevitable surrender. By honoring those who didn't survive, we complete the circle of attention that makes us fully present to the world around us. We acknowledge that in the grand choreography of nature, those who don't survive play roles as necessary as those who do — becoming nourishment for scavengers, returning to soil that will feed new generations, their brief lives part of a continuous cycle that sustains all others.

The natural world teaches us that survival and surrender are not opposites but companions in the same sacred dance. By witnessing both with equal attention, marveling at the tenacity of the dandelion pushing through concrete while honoring the chickadee's song and tenderly acknowledging her silent nest - we recover a more complete understanding of what it means to be alive.

For in this complete vision, we find an invitation to live with greater intention, to savor each moment as the miracle it is, and to extend our reverence to all living things. This awareness invites us to live our own days with greater intention, to savor each moment as the miracle it is, and to extend our circle of compassion to encompass all beings, celebrating both their presence and their passage.

—> What moments of natural wonder caught your attention this week? Please share your stories and photos in the comments below. Let's experience nature's gifts together.

As always, thank you so much for reading and supporting me.

Love,

Jane