Nature Never Lies: Quiet Simple Truths

One who strives to make Truth home

May at times be lonely.

One who fawns on the powerful and influential

Will know the chill of solitude for ages.

The superior person peers deeply into

Transcendent reality,

And thinks about the body

They will have after this one is gone.

Rather should one suffer a temporary loneliness

Than the solitary chill of ages.

— Hung Ying-ming

Ying-ming's words settle quietly in my mind, like the sound of one hand clapping. 

For years I have listened skeptically to the voices that promised certainty: the reports, the pronouncements, the endless noise of official explanation. 

They spoke with certainty, yet the words felt as substantial as a vaporous breath on an icy cold day.

Gradually I have stopped listening. Not out of anger, but because my heart found no sanctuary in those places. 

Now I sit with what nature has revealed to me.

The wind moves the branches without apology.

The stream directs the flow without asking permission.

The breath rises and falls, steady and unconcerned with opinion.

Here there is no need for deception, no need for playing make believe to force things to be true. Nature simply shows itself.

And inside, the same stillness waits — the quiet knowing that does not need to be convinced.

The mind, of course, is skilled at weaving its own tales, at building walls of belief to feel safe. It is a lonely and brave quest to surmount those walls. 

Yet the loneliness of seeing clearly still feels lighter than the burden of living inside a narrative that is not one’s own.

The chill of ages comes not from solitude, but from clinging to what was never truly yours.

So I return, again and again, to what is already here: the trees, the breath, the silence between thoughts.

No explanation is required.

Much can be found in what is already here, in the quiet moments, in a sunny blue sky, in the simple pulse of being. 

What does nature, outside you and inside you, whisper to you these days?

Bring the Light to the World

As a child, I eagerly counted down the days to Christmas, anticipating the arrival of a gift-laden, giant sack bearing Santa Claus. 

Now, as a grown simple man, my countdown is for the Winter Solstice, the shortest day and longest night of the year. The return of the light, if not the heat, is gift enough.

My strong connection to the Winter Solstice might be due to the fact that I was born on the second shortest day of the year, way back in 1961. 

I have sometimes wondered - did my birth help bring a bit of light back into the world, setting my purpose right from the start with this unbreakable connection? I like to think so. 

I know correlation is not causation, but the light did begin to return to the world very shortly after I was born. Just saying.

Either way, this day is welcomed by all in the northern hemisphere, because who couldn't use a bit more daylight in their day? 

This year, like every year, my solstice present will be the returning light. That, and peace, are the only things I would like to see under my living solstice tree on the morning of December 21, 2025.

In a world that can be busy, loud, and disconnected from nature, the Winter Solstice reminds us of the natural rhythms that still govern our lives. 

It's a time to reflect on the past and look forward to the future, to appreciate the simple joys of life, and to resist the constant noise of modern society.

Linda and I would like to extend our hope for peace and light for all of the beautiful candle bearers that visit here to read our humble blog and help illuminate our lives. 

May all your simple wishes for health and happiness come to pass in this new year.  

My prediction is that 2026 will burst not only with the bright, cleansing light of Truth, but also with infinite promise for those willing to do the hard work.

Onward, into the light.

The Joy of Boring

Most people would call my life boring—and from the outside, they’d be right. However, I haven’t experienced a single moment of boredom ever.
For the last couple of decades I have rarely ventured more than about 20 km from home, even back when we owned a vehicle. 
I spend most days here, never going out purely for entertainment. Linda and I find our quiet life highly entertaining in the most natural, low-key way.
Quitting the rat race and disentangling from consumerism means I no longer get the jolt of buying new things. Instead, I get a quiet kick from repairing old possessions and using items decades old that still work perfectly.
We’re not into mainstream entertainment or socializing. We neither attend nor host parties—our liveliest “social events” are the occasional lively comment thread on this blog.
We don’t travel unless it’s absolutely necessary, and very few trips are. Yet by staying put so long, and proceeding so slowly, this place has revealed its intimate secrets to us. 
We’ve watched trees grow that weren’t even here when we arrived in 2014 after crossing the continent in our quest for peace and quiet in an appropriate and affordable setting. 
And after more than a decade of feeding the local crows, we now visit with generations of the same family. They bring their fledglings each spring to show them where the daily peanuts appear, recognizing our faces and footsteps from a tree in the yard, or from the power lines across the street.
So, what is boring, exactly, about peace, clarity, and liberation from the tedium of the daily grind? 
Linda once put this to the Universe: “Is enlightenment boring?”
Perhaps it is—to those still chasing the next material thrill. But to us, this quiet, ordinary life feels like the deepest adventure there is.
What about you? Have you found richness in what others call “boring”? We’d love to hear in the comments.

A Soulful Pause for Nature-Loving Spirits

What is that I hear? The sound of life rushing by growing faint now, in this final month of the year. 

Snowflakes drift down here, not yet collecting, but portending promises of a deeper stillness soon to come.

Bring it on.

For those of us deeply attuned to nature's rhythms, winter is far more than cold and quiet—it's a sacred invitation to pause, reflect, and rejuvenate our spirits.

Fall and winter remind us to slow down and savour the present moment. 

The vibrant greens of spring and summer have faded into autumn's brilliant colors, giving way to freezing temperatures and a serene landscape soon to be blanketed in white.

In this season, the universe whispers: "Pause, dear souls, and find beauty in this moment."

Winter's approaching cloak offers a gentle opportunity to cultivate mindfulness—to be fully present and appreciate winter's simple repose.

In the animal kingdom, many creatures wisely embrace hibernation, retreating to cozy dens to conserve energy and allow nature's cycles to unfold undisturbed.

I, too, feel drawn to this instinct. 

As spiritual beings, we can draw profound inspiration from nature's wisdom. 

Create your own sacred space—a cozy nook where you can retreat and "hibernate" metaphorically. 

Whether it's a cushion by the fireplace or a quiet spot beneath your favorite tree, let it be a sanctuary for reconnecting with your inner self and the divine energy that surrounds us, rekindling your inner flame.

As daylight shortens, our focus naturally turns inward. Winter is the perfect time to nurture the soul through practices that feed the spirit: meditation, prayer, gentle movement, or simply sitting in quiet contemplation.

Lighting candles or tending a fire, the warm glow symbolizes the eternal flame that burns brightly within every living being.

Allow this season to become one of introspection—a chance to explore your inner depths and rediscover truths that may have been overshadowed by life's warmer, more active seasons.

Incorporate winter's elements into your practices. Observe the delicate patterns of snow crystals as reminders of beauty in simplicity and the infinite variety of life. 

Offer gratitude for the earth's dormancy, trusting that it rests now to burst forth with renewed vitality in spring.

Winter is not a time of barrenness, but a canvas for inner reflection. Nature, in its quiet wisdom, guides us to turn inward and discover the magic within.

Embrace the stillness. Honor the hibernation of your spirit. 

Let the winter winds carry away what no longer serves you—releasing, as Thoreau urged, with his call to "Simplify, simplify, simplify.”

In this season of quiet renewal, may you find solace, deeper connection, and profound spiritual recharge. 

It won't be long now until the days begin to lengthen and the light returns.

In that promise we rejoice, because the light always returns.

In the meantime, happy hibernation, friends.

Home Grown Carrots

Artist Paul Cezanne said, “The day is coming when a single carrot, freshly observed, will set off a revolution."

I’ve observed that carrot - it came from my garden, and it set off a revolution of taste in my diet.

In my humble opinion, there is nothing better than fresh garden carrots. So crisp, so sweet, so easy to store and enjoy.

I have never tasted a store bought carrot as good as the ones I grow myself. 

Until I pulled a carrot from the ground, washed it off, and ate it, I  hadn’t experienced the true carrot taste.

The substandard ones from the store that I was use to were the right colour, the right shape, and the right size. But they lacked the robust, lively taste of carrots from the garden. They were bland and ho-hum. Carrot-ish.

Garden variety carrots are not only tastier, but also more nutritious. 

Speaking of variety, garden carrots have it all. Big ones, little ones, and in all kinds of shapes. There are orange ones, yellow ones, and purple ones - a rainbow of tasty beauty.

And my wonderfully diverse carrots are almost free. 

I had a moderate carrot harvest this year. Like everything else, this year's yield was affected by the months-long drought.

It seems too early, but I am nearing the end of my carrot harvest that has been stored in our unheated garage since I lovingly picked them in September. 

There are enough left to make a nice, big batch of carrot-ginger soup. Perfect on this snowy, windy, cold late Fall day.

I will miss my carrots when I have to go back to buying the store-provided industrially grown, all-the-same orange roots I call corporate carrots. They are built for profit, not perfection.

Because of that, I am grateful for my fresh, naturally perfect carrots. Planting, caring for, harvesting, and eating them makes me happy.

Start your own taste revolution - grow carrots! Your tastebuds, and pocketbook, will thank you.

You Are the Gift

Happy holidays simple livers. Once again we have the perfect opportunity to initiate a buy nothing Christmas. 

But it won’t be easy.

Suggesting leaving gift giving behind in our debt-funded consumerist economy is tantamount to treason, punishable by exclusion, banishment and ostracizication. 

However, it also just might save us from out of control debt and misery, not to mention overstuffed storage lockers and garbage bins.

Mainstream narratives confuse good will in the world with good loot under the tree. We can turn that around.

It is amazing what a search for ‘’no gifts, please’’ brings up. Tons of polite and gracious ways to let people know you are going gift free.

If you are present-free curious, right now is the perfect time for choosing a stress-free, gift-free holiday season.

Try one or more of the above suggested ways to communicate your desire to make this holiday season about relationships with each other, and nature rather than about loot.

Besides, the best gift you can give is your time and undivided attention. 

And that is free.

No material gift may be the best gift this year. It is exactly what many of us would like.

Thanks for nothing, except for you, just as you are, which I deeply love and cherish.

Be the most valuable gift you can give, then give freely.

The world will be a better place because of the gift of your presence in this very moment.

Happy Buy Nothing Christmas from your Scroogey friends at the Not Buying Anything Blog.

Thank you for your time and attention year round, for which we are infinitely grateful.

You Can’t Buy It

We've been sold a bill of goods. Consumer cultures have been brainwashed into thinking that happiness is all about piling up more crap. 

The trillion-dollar-a-year advertising industry is behind this scam, pushing the idea that buying junk we don’t need is the path to bliss.

But here’s the real kicker: we can’t figure out how people can have a paltry possession pile and yet still be happy.  

From our perch atop our teetering mountains of trinkets, gadgets, and toys, we scratch our heads and wonder, 

"How is that possible?"

Maybe those happy, non-materially oriented people are happy because they don’t have a bunch of distracting distractions. 

Some of the happiest societies around are less affluent, small, traditional, and relatively unmonitized. 

That is because historically, indigenous and traditional societies have operated on principles that prioritize community well-being over individual wealth accumulation. 

These societies often rely on systems of reciprocity, gift-giving, and communal labour rather than monetary exchange.

We shouldn’t be pointing out what they don’t have; instead, we should look at what they do have.

Maybe stuff doesn't actually make people happy. Consider the results of the 200-year-old conspicuous consumer experiment. 

The verdict is in: it’s a bust, and it’s time to try something different.

Actually, it’s not that different. Go back just a few generations, and everyone's ancestors were living simpler, materially poorer lives. 

But were they any less happy? If not, then what’s all the extra stuff for?

Here are a few reasons why our ancestors and materially poor people and communities today might be happier than those with more stuff:

1. Less Debt, Less Stress 

Less debt means less stress, and less stress means more happiness.

2. Strong Community Ties

Often, people with fewer material possessions have stronger community ties, relying on each other for support, which creates a sense of belonging and mutual aid.

3. Appreciation for Simple Pleasures

When you don’t have much, you learn to appreciate the little things. 

4. Freedom from Consumerism 

Being away from the rat race of consumerism can lead to a greater sense of contentment and peace of mind.

5. Genuine Experiences

It's important to note that experiences can also be consumerized. The key is to seek out genuine, meaningful experiences that enrich the soul, not just the social media feed.

6. Spiritual Richness

Spiritual practices and community rituals can play a significant role in daily life. These practices provide a sense of purpose, inner peace, and connection to something greater than oneself and one’s material possessions.

7. Simplicity and Contentment

Voluntary simple living people often find joy in the simplicity of their lives by prioritizing quality over quantity. This leads to a greater sense of contentment and fulfillment.

 

Think about that the next time you're standing in line at the mall, waiting to buy non-essential things. 

Because in the end, it's not about the stuff. It's about the stuff that matters. 

And that stuff? 

You can't buy it.