The green canopy stretches above the earth, holding the ground in place as the river rushes through the land. Within the canopy many animals and insects live, sheltered. The green gives many a creatures a place to camouflage near, and provides comfort and security. 

Faith can feel like security, like when one needs to leave a toxic situation, and you don’t know where you will land. One needs faith to move forward. One must have belief in something to let go of worry, and to allow plans to unfold. You cannot micro manage your way out of these situations. I know, because I have been in a couple of situations like this in my forty-two years. One gets pushed to the place where the best thing to do is to take a leap of faith out into the world.

As a mental health patient, I also have to have faith in the little things every single day. Somedays I feel good, and somedays I struggle increasingly so. What ends up happening is that I have to listen to what my body and my illness are telling me. I have to let go, and accept, a lot. If I have a full day, I can count on the fact that the next day will offer some difficulty. If I do not experience and practice balance, it is likely that I am not well. Mania comes at a cost. For every high there is a low. So, even though I find myself wishing that I did not have mental illness, so that I could do many things in life that my illness has robbed from me, I know that to manage my life successfully, I must accept a slower cadence. There is a shallow rhythm, there is a gentleness to my life when lived in balance. It does not look busy nor is it about accomplishment. Living with mental illness is about listening to, and trying to care for myself. I must have faith over and over, in order to accept what my body and illness are trying to communicate.

I have faith in god, but I also have faith in the universe, and in the small voice within me. I have faith in my partner, and in my decision to be with my husband. There are a few things in my life that have sustained through many transitions, and through mush hardship, like writing, meditation in nature, walking, and my partner and family. I can have faith in all of these things. Faith is trusting something that is outside of myself. Once you realize that you are being held by life within structural systems, you are also humbled. All of these things that I mentioned would exist without me. These systems or experiences are beyond my control, they are steadfast, and I have faith more and more every day because I am held by these mechanisms. When I am lost in ego, and not trusting the world, but rather have become obsessed with my own influence, I lose track of these supportive systems. When I am grateful, aware, and trusting, I realize how my writing, my relationship, my family, and nature and the universe hold me gently. They all provide structure, wisdom, and healing. When I act in faith, I learn to appreciate my surroundings, and I can trust that if I make decisions that are in line with god’s plan, and that are good for my mental health, that these supportive systems will be strengthened.

As I sit in the woods on my property, I unfold. I begin to listen to my inner voice. I begin to observe biology and nature, and the astonishing beauty and miracle of the earth. I slow down. I let go. I sit and ponder the word faith. Slowly, the meaning and feeling of faith meet me there in the woods where I sit. I begin to feel more secure in my own skin. The universe spins from every leaf and branch, and soon I am humbled by the nature of this world which holds me. I can find healing here. I can let my ego go. I can learn to trust in nature and god’s plan. I can learn to have faith.