I was raised on the Redwood Coast of northern California. Giant trees were woven into the very fabric of my childhood story. Growing up, I played in vast groves of coastal redwoods, dashing across forest floors blanketed with bracken fern, redwood sorrel, and an endless array of plants and flowers. Though I no longer live on the North Coast, whenever I head back to visit my old home, I almost always pull over for a quiet walk in a redwood grove along the way. Those ancient giants still call to me, grounding me in a way nothing else can. They still leave me with a sense of awe.

With many things in life, we grow numb through repeated exposure. Beautiful things lose their spark over time. That's true for me with some experiences. But not entirely with nature. There's something about it that always stirs an ineffable feeling deep inside me. I've felt it my whole life -a powerful stirring that beauty brings. Though it's always been there, I haven't always shared it openly.

Just this week, an old high school friend reached out after listening to the podcast for the first time. He said, “Oh my god, you’re such a hippy.” I thanked him and agreed—maybe I am. I knew exactly what he meant. We were school kids in the late '70s and went to high school in the '80s, right at the tail end of the hippie era. Back then, the word "hippy" carried a bunch of connotations, but I got his meaning immediately. I've become one of those people who talks about feelings and the pull of nature. To be clear, he didn't say it condescendingly—it was more of an acknowledgment, a guy-way of saying, “Damn, you've changed.”And he's right... and wrong. 

I've changed in that I now speak openly about the inner world. But those feelings? They've always been there. They're not new. What's shifted is that I no longer hold them back. Now, I embrace them—or rather, I let them flow through me freely. I let myself celebrate them out loud.

There's a concept known as aesthetic emotions: the emotional responses we have to beauty. It could be any form of beauty—a painting, a landscape, a person's face, or even the intricate veins in a tree leaf. If it engages your senses, it can evoke this response. That's where the word "sensual" originates—from the senses themselves.

Maybe it's that indescribable moment when a sunset floods your being in a way words can't capture. It's the profound emotion that hits when you gaze at the night sky in the desert, staggered by the vastness and splendor of the universe we're hurtling through. It's the quiet thrill of digging your toes into warm sand as waves crash in, or staring out at leaden skies over a stormy sea on the horizon. You know that sensation—the ineffable instant that makes you acutely aware of your soul's presence. It's that.

Aesthetic emotions arise when your senses are moved by beauty, and more often than not, that beauty comes from the natural world. 

As far back as I can remember, fall has been my favorite season. The way the leaves transform into a riot of colors stirs something profound in me. The sensual elements of fall—the crisp air, the rustling leaves, the earthy scent—it all draws me out the fullest version of myself, including the softer, more vulnerable parts that I kept hidden as a younger man.

As Gretel Ehrlich so beautifully put it, “Everything in nature invites us constantly to be what we are.” Autumn invites me. What invites you? 
Nature's beauty beckons us to show up as your truest self. The biggest barrier to fully appreciating the beauty around us?.. Our own mind: our ego, our fear of judgment, our worry about appearing "soft" or sentimental. Men especially struggle with this one. We build these walls to protect ourselves, but -in doing this- we block the very experiences that make life rich and meaningful. It becomes a barrier between us and our ability to appreciate beauty in the moment. 

In a world that often prizes toughness and productivity over wonder, it's easy to dismiss those stirrings as frivolous. But what if we leaned into them instead? What if we allowed nature to peel away those layers, revealing the authentic humanity beneath? Think about it: in those moments of awe—standing under a canopy of redwoods, watching autumn leaves dance in the wind, or feeling the ocean's rhythm—we're reminded that beauty is everywhere, waiting for us. Just waiting. It's not reserved for grand vacations or rare escapes; it's in the everyday—the way sunlight filters through branches, the song of a bird at dawn, the feel of rain on your skin. All it asks is that we open our senses to it, without resistance or self-doubt. It's a reward for being fully present.

And this invitation from nature isn't just about fleeting feelings; it's a call to live with more presence, vulnerability, and connection. When we shed the ego and fear, we foster a deeper bond not only with the world around us but with ourselves and others. We become more empathetic, more alive, more whole.

So here's my gentle reminder and invitation to you: pause today, wherever you are. Step outside, breathe in the air, notice the beauty that's already there. Let it stir your soul without apology. 

Has a particular natural wonder has ever moved you that way—I'd love to hear your stories. Share in the comments.

Thanks for joining me on The Soul Podcast. Until next time, let nature invite you to be exactly what you are.