Bob Ross famously called them “happy accidents.” Those moments when something doesn't go quite the way you planned, but somehow, something beautiful comes from it. 

I experienced one of those happy accidents this past weekend during my Art of Nature Wisdom workshop. I had asked everyone to go outside and find a plant that caught their attention. One of my students came back absolutely captivated by a patch of red clover. She stood there in total awe, watching butterflies, moths, and bees moving from flower to flower. And I remember thinking…

Wait. What red clover patch?

I had walked past that patch countless times. And I had barely noticed it. Four years ago, I had a vision for that space. I imagined a beautiful wildflower garden—the kind you see in magazines. Colorful. Abundant. Filled with flowers, birds, bees, and butterflies. And for one glorious year, it was. Then came year two. My beautiful wildflower garden turned into what can only be described as a wild weed patch.

It wasn't what I had envisioned at all.

Eventually, I gave up. That fall, I rototilled the entire thing and planted red clover. It was supposed to be a temporary solution while I figured out what to do next. It kept the weeds down. It was easy to maintain. I could mow it a couple of times a year. Perfect. Except… I never really looked at it. Because it wasn't what I wanted.

It was the consolation prize.

The backup plan. The thing I settled for after my original vision didn't work. Until this weekend. When my student stopped and really saw it. Suddenly, I saw it, too....
- butterflies,
- moths,
- bees,
- abundance,
- life,

The very thing I had wanted to create four years earlier was right there in front of me. It just didn't look the way I thought it would. And that stopped me in my tracks. 

I had been so focused on the form of my dream that I had completely missed the essence of it.

I wanted a beautiful wildflower garden. But what I really wanted was a place that fed and supported nature. And somehow, my “failed” garden had created exactly that. Just in a much simpler, lower-maintenance, and completely unexpected way. In fact, my students were so fascinated by the red clover patch that several of them left thinking about planting one in their own gardens.

What I had dismissed as a failure had become an ecosystem.

A happy accident. And perhaps that's one of the gifts of nature. Nature doesn't always give us what we planned. Sometimes she gives us something better suited to what we're actually trying to create. But we have to be willing to notice it. 

How often do we do the same thing in our own lives?

We make a plan. We picture exactly what success is supposed to look like. Then something goes sideways...
- The business doesn't grow the way we expected.
- The career path changes.
- The relationship takes an unexpected turn.
- The project doesn't unfold according to plan.
- And we decide we've failed.

But what if we're simply standing in front of our own version of a red clover patch and looking at it and thinking...

This isn't what I wanted!

What if we paused long enough to ask:
What is here?
What is working?
What has this unexpected path created that I couldn't have planned?
What if this isn't a failure at all?

Maybe it's a happy accident. Maybe the dream didn't disappear. Maybe it simply took a different shape. And sometimes, when we stop looking for what we thought we wanted, we finally have the opportunity to see what we've actually created.

That red clover patch taught me something I'll remember:

Don't be so attached to the picture of the dream that you miss the gift standing right in front of you.

Sometimes the wildflower garden isn't lost. Sometimes…
​
it's just growing in disguise.

Until next time,
keep looking for the magic hiding in plain sight.
With curiosity & a little MOXIE,
Robin 

Last week, as I was pulling weeds, I was thinking about the next step towards transforming the yard, when a plant gave me some unsolicited advice. Apparently, I was being too rigid.

I had a plan for what I wanted to accomplish, how I wanted things to go, and what needed to happen next. And somewhere between pulling weeds and trying to get everything "right," I heard:

You're being too rigid. Let go of the plan.

Okay. Message received. 😂
But it got me thinking about how often we do the same thing.We make a plan.
We decide how something should unfold.
And then when life takes an unexpected turn, we tighten our grip.
We try harder.
We push.
We convince ourselves that if we can just figure out the right path, everything will fall into place.

But nature doesn't work that way.
A tree doesn't stop growing because the wind changed direction.
A river doesn't abandon its destination because a rock appeared in its path.
A willow bends.
Seeds wait.
Branches reach around obstacles.
Nature is constantly responding to what is happening in the moment.


Maybe that's part of nature's wisdom for us, too.

Being flexible doesn't mean giving up on what you want. It means being willing to let go of the idea that there is only one way to get there. You can...

• have a direction without having every step mapped out.
• hold the dream without gripping the plan.
• ask "What do I need to do next?" instead of "How do I make this happen exactly the way I planned?"

So, here's this week's Nature Wisdom Experiment:

Notice where you're gripping the plan.

Think of something in your life that isn't unfolding quite the way you expected.
Instead of immediately asking, "How do I fix this?"

Step outside. Find something in nature that is bending, flowing, adapting, or growing around an obstacle. Spend a few quiet minutes with it. Then ask:

"What would it look like for me to bend instead of break?"

You may not get a five-step plan.
You might get something much more useful:

your next step.

And sometimes, that's all nature is asking us to find.

And here's the fun thing about my upcoming workshop The Art of Nature Wisdom...


• You don't have to arrive with a question perfectly formed.
• You don't have to know exactly what you need.
• You simply have to be curious.

Because sometimes the most interesting discoveries happen when we stop trying to control the outcome and give ourselves permission to notice what shows up.

Keep the intention. Release the rigidity.
Robin

Have you ever had a dream that felt both exciting and terrifying?

The kind of dream that makes your heart say YES! while your brain immediately responds with...

Who do you think you are?

I have. Back in 2010, I had a dream that I was going to be a sunflower farmer. Yes. A sunflower farmer. The idea absolutely lit me up and scared the heck out of me. Who was I to become a farmer?

But instead of talking myself out of it, I followed the nudge. I researched what kind of sunflower seeds to plant. I figured out what I needed to do. I asked my family for help tilling the soil.

I had a dream.
I asked for help.
And I took action.
And then...life happened.

I ended up taking a new position with a tractor company. And the birds ate all of my sunflower seeds before I ever got the chance to harvest them. Not exactly the sunflower farm I had envisioned. For a while, I could have looked at that experience and decided...

Well, I guess that dream wasn't meant to be.

But that's not what happened. Because here's what I've learned...

A dream not working out the way you imagined doesn't mean you were wrong to dream it.

Sometimes the dream is simply the beginning of the conversation. That sunflower dream taught me to...

• listen to the little voice inside me
• move toward something that excited me even when I was afraid
• ask for help
• take action before I had everything figured out

And eventually, it taught me something even bigger...

I was capable of dreaming beyond the life I already knew.

The sunflower farm wasn't the destination. It was a doorway. Over time, my dream shifted. I began creating workshops. Then sound baths. Then nature sound baths.

And eventually, the work I am doing today with The Art of Nature Wisdom is about helping people slow down, pay attention, listen differently, and discover what nature might be showing them about their own lives.

The dream got bigger. Not necessarily bigger in the way I expected.

Bigger in the way I had become ready for. 
And maybe that's one of nature's greatest lessons.

A seed doesn't know exactly what the flower will look like when it begins to grow.

• It simply responds to what is around it.
• It sends down roots.
• It reaches toward the light.
• It adjusts to the weather.
• It grows around obstacles.
• And it keeps becoming.

Maybe our dreams work the same way. We don't always need to know exactly where the nudge is going to lead.

• We need to be willing to listen.
• We need to be willing to ask for help.
• We need to be willing to take the next step.
• And when things don't go according to plan?

We don't necessarily need to give up.

Maybe it's time to pause and ask...

• What did this experience teach me?
• Who have I become because I was willing to try?
• What am I ready for now that I wasn't ready for before?

Because sometimes what looks like a dead end is actually a doorway.
Sometimes the dream doesn't disappear. It evolves.

And sometimes the dream that didn't work out is the very thing that prepares you for the dream that will.

So, if you've been carrying a dream...
If you've felt that little nudge...
If you've been thinking, "Maybe someday..."
I want to invite you to listen a little more closely.

You don't have to know the whole path.
You don't have to know how it will turn out.
You don't even have to know whether the dream will look exactly the way you imagined it.

Just take the next step.
Ask for help when you need it.
And see what happens.
Because you never know.
The birds might eat the sunflowers.
And you might discover you were growing something much bigger all along.

The birds might of ate my sunflowers, but they didn't eat my dream.
Robin

Lately, I've been asking myself a question:

What if I want more?

I have a good job. I have a good life. I have plenty to be grateful for.

And yet...I’m bored.
Everything feels a little too mundane. 

I’m craving more creativity, joy, inspiration...a spark that points me toward something that feels alive...

Something that makes me sit up and think, "Yes. That's it!”

Everyone seems to have an answer about what I should do next. But honestly, most of it sounds like more of the same. And then comes that little voice:

Who am I to ask for more?

We've been taught that wanting more is somehow selfish.
Be grateful for what you have.
Don't be too demanding.
Don't expect too much.
You have a good job.
You have a roof over your head.
You should be happy.
And of course, gratitude matters.
But perhaps gratitude and desire can coexist.

You can appreciate what is and still be curious about what could be.

Maybe wanting more isn't a rejection of the life you've created. Maybe it's an invitation to listen more deeply to the life that's trying to emerge. Nature reminds us of this. Nature simply responds to what it knows.
It reaches.
It grows.
It bends.
It rests.
It changes direction.
And it keeps listening.

So perhaps this week, give yourself permission to ask for more.
- More creativity.
- More joy.
- More adventure.
- More meaning.
- More aliveness.

Not because your life isn't good enough. But because...

You are allowed to want what makes you feel more alive.

And you don't have to know what comes next. Start with the question (details below).  Nature has a funny way of helping us discover what we're ready to see.

Ask the question. Make space. Listen for what emerges.
Robin

This is part of what we'll explore in The Art of Nature Wisdom Workshop.
​
Not how to predict the future.
Not how to find some magical answer outside of yourself.
But how to develop a different kind of relationship with the natural world and with yourself.

Because sometimes the answer doesn't arrive as a lightning bolt.
Sometimes it's a feeling.
An image.
A pattern.
A moment of unexpected clarity.
A bird that appears at just the right moment.
A tree that reminds you to bend instead of break.
A path that suddenly makes you curious.
Nature gives us something our busy lives often don't:

Space to notice!

You don't have to know exactly what you want next.
You don't have to have a five-year plan.
You don't have to blow up your current life.
You simply have to be willing to ask:
What else is possible for me if I stop and listen to Nature?

Fall is in the air.  The days are getting shorter, the temperatures are getting cooler, and the school bus has started to drive by my house daily.  For me, Fall is the season of reflection around my dreams.  

The dreams I have pursued.
The dreams I have accomplished.
And perhaps even more importantly, the dreams I once had but somehow set aside.
It made me wonder...

When did we become so afraid to dream?

As children, dreaming seems to come naturally. We imagine. We pretend. We believe that anything might be possible.
Then somewhere along the way, the questions begin.

• Is that realistic?
• What will people think?
• Are you qualified?
• Can you really do that?
• Shouldn't you be doing something more practical?

And slowly, often without even realizing it...

We begin to let other people write the story of our lives.

We listen to what we should do.
What we ought to do.
What is expected of us.
Until one day, we may find ourselves wondering...

What happened to the dream I once had for myself?

For me, nature has played an unexpected role in helping me reconnect with my dreams. And looking back, I realize something important.

Nature didn't give me my dreams. It gave me the space and the courage to listen to them.

When I spend time in nature, something shifts.
The noise begins to quiet.
There are fewer voices telling me what I should be doing. Fewer distractions competing for my attention. Fewer reasons why an idea won't work.

And in that quiet, I begin to notice things...

• A curiosity.
• A nudge.
• A little
• A whisper that says,

Some of those whispers have led me down paths I never could have predicted.
To create nature sound baths.
To create a card deck.
To write a book.

None of those dreams arrived with a detailed map or a guarantee that I would know exactly what I was doing. They began as small ideas.
A spark.
A curiosity.
A whisper.
And I had a choice.
I could dismiss them.
Or I could get curious and see where they wanted to lead.

Nature doesn't demand that you know the entire path.

One of the things I love about nature is that it reminds me that life is always unfolding.

A seed doesn't need to know exactly how tall it will grow.

A river doesn't stand at its beginning demanding to see every turn before it begins to flow.

A path through the woods doesn't always reveal where it is leading until you are willing to walk far enough to see what is around the next bend.

Perhaps our dreams are a little like that.
We often think we need to know the entire plan before we begin.
Where will this lead?
Will it work?
What if I fail?
What if I change my mind?
But maybe those aren't the questions we need to answer first.
Maybe the first question is much simpler...

What is whispering to you right now?

What idea keeps coming back?
What possibility makes you feel just a little more alive?
What would you explore if you didn't have to know where it would lead?
Because you don't have to know exactly where the dream will take you.

You simply have to be willing to listen when it whispers.

This week, I invite you to try a Nature Dreaming experiment. Details below.

Giving you permission to dream,
Robin

Did this experiment spark your imagination? Make you curious? What parts inspired you?  What parts scared you?  Nature helps us wake up to what we already know or what we're ready to discover.

Join me at my upcoming workshop The Art of Nature Wisdom where you will learn how to connect deeper to nature and your dreams.