I love what you say about feeling your toes needed to be uncovered at night so they could breathe!
As a young child, I remember lying in bed at night and thinking of myself in our planet, and our planet in the solar system, and the solar system in our galaxy, and always more and more, and getting really freaked out, afraid or awed, I didn't have words for this back then for this vastness and the hollow and pull at the pit of my stomach it produced...
I love that, Claudia. I can completely identify with that feeling of fear and awe, " the hollow and pull at the pit of my stomach" is such a beautiful way to put it. I still feel that way when I think about more and more. Thank you.
I've been reading Alan Watts lately and reflecting a lot on his argument that the idea of separateness between things- that the world is made up of lots of little bits - is a myth, that everything is part of the same whole even though we find it hard to see it that way in the Western world. I think what you describe seems like a great example of how to put that philosophy into practice, ie. living with a deeply held respect for things that aren't 'you' but also in some sense are. I love it when things I read dovetail like this - thank you!
I also love that kind of synchronicity, Kate. I appreciate the encouragement around putting the philosophy into practice. If I feel something deeply, or believe it to be true, I always think, "well, where do I see this in my life in the world." Thanks!
We moved to Maine two years ago, and we can see the tide levels rise and fall in the cove below our house. Somehow it makes the cycle of nature more present. We started tracking moon cycles, sunsets and the high and low tide. It creates a shift from nature as something beautiful we experience, like a movie, to something we live within as a small part of it. Interbeing!
Those are great markers, Todd! We have no tide here (we are about as far from a tide as we can get), but we do track the moon and the Nebraska sunsets are truly remarkable. I also like the movie/something we live comparison. When so much of our lives happens on screens, keeping and cultivating the lived part is so important.
When I moved out of my first apartment after 12 years, I felt like I was leaving behind a dear friend, a part of my very soul.. That space had become sacred to me. It inspired me to write a poem titled "Home", where I told my apartment just how much it had meant to me and how hard it was to leave it. Must share it here sometime. 🙂
Oh, I love that and can so understand it. We have moved many times, and I have often felt the pull of the space and the grief of leaving it. Such a wonderful gift to yourself and to your apartment to write a poem about that relationship. I'd love to read it. Thank you!
Beautiful. Reminds me of a favorite line from a poem: I love you | the way the wind | loves a window.
To imagine a world of sentience only increases my enchantment with it. And the core of that sentience I want to believe is love, our universe simply (and magnificently) just iteration after iteration of love knowing itself as love.
Hi Kimberly! Thank you for this. The line from the poem really captures interbeing in action, so to speak. And thank you for bringing love into the conversation. What does it look like when we do? When we see it all as love:)
When I was a kid, I had quite a few stuffed animals. I remember setting them in positions so they would be comfortable, and for the ones I slept with, I kept their heads outside the covers so they could breathe. I experienced a lot of loss as a child, and so I was very attached to the items I had received from my loved ones who had died. I was trying to hold onto the connections with them. Just knowing their hands had held these things, and now mine held them was a comfort. I think most often in my present life, I've been talking occasionally to the trees and flowers in my yard and in the local parks. "I see you, you late bloomer - way to go!" Or maybe just putting my hand on my favorite trees and taking a few deep breaths, appreciating their presence.
This is really sweet to think about, thank you. ☺️
Hi Caryn, I also have habit of putting a hand on a tree or giving particular attention to plant or other creature I come across on a hike. Each has a presence that is, as you say, worth noting and appreciating. I also think that there's something rather tremendous in the lives of those you lost and how your toys seem carriers of those precious people. I didn't talk about the relationship with memory and "things" in this post, but that adds a whole other dimension to this discussion. Thank you.
Your writing was wonderful Emily, although a part of me thought that you have evolved from a ketchup bottle to a jar of peanut butter!
I had to put one of my chickens down this week. She was very ill, but I couldn’t do it, though I wanted to be part of it. I did have a closing conversation with her. Pets are one of those aspects of creation that are full of the things we see in ourselves and give us insights into what motivates them. Perhaps it started with the large collection of stuffed animals I had as a child. All of those conversations I had with them… Perhaps that’s one of the big connections is that we communicate with them and in the case of stuffed animals, they don’t talk back, but we still build a relationship?
Ha! Yes, I have indeed evolved from ketchup to peanut butter:). I'm sorry to hear about one of your sweet chickens, and I'm glad you got to have a last talk with her. I agree that being able to talk to something, a stuffed animal, a tree, a stone, a dog without having them talk back using our spoken language does contribute to our ability to form different bonds with these non-humans. Now, I want to think about the different ways that all of these beings communicate and how we build relationships with them that do or don't include words. Thank you for this!
I've felt the same way about objects for as long as I can remember. Stones in particular invariably make me pause and wonder --does this little pebble actually want to be picked up? Is a brief connection with me an OK thing, or would they prefer to remain where they are? The answers go both ways., and over time I've become more of a "catch and release" pebble gatherer (or I don't gather at all), as it feels like some stones are interested in a reciprocal relationship with me, and some are not. I feel the same way about objects and beings of all kinds (cars not least!), and am deeply warmed by your words and thoughts on this way of being in and with the world.
Yes! I love to hear you talk about this, Sarah. I absolutely agree - some things, stones, may want a connection, some may not, and listening to find out. I glad my words warm you up:). Thank you!
When I was a child, there was one point on our way to church each week (I am a recovering pastor’s kid, haha) where I would fix my attention on view: layers of landscape grounded in the Appalachia foothills of my county. Recently, I’ve discovered similar views in the part of the other side of the county where I live now. On my drives, I’ve contemplated how this isn’t just a view but where I live. I am part of these hills. This sense of placedness is deepening as I locate myself within this scene and not merely an observer of it.
That's beautiful, yes, to be a part of the whole, and how does that change how we relate to our landscapes - such a great observation. Thanks Christianna.
What a great read. Thanks, Emily. Because I spend so much time running on mountain trails I’m very privileged to be able to experience that oneness with the earth. That appreciation and wonder is different than the memory items I’ve kept for decades. Heartfelt memories for me but a different kind of longing for.
I love what you say about feeling your toes needed to be uncovered at night so they could breathe!
As a young child, I remember lying in bed at night and thinking of myself in our planet, and our planet in the solar system, and the solar system in our galaxy, and always more and more, and getting really freaked out, afraid or awed, I didn't have words for this back then for this vastness and the hollow and pull at the pit of my stomach it produced...
I love that, Claudia. I can completely identify with that feeling of fear and awe, " the hollow and pull at the pit of my stomach" is such a beautiful way to put it. I still feel that way when I think about more and more. Thank you.
I've been reading Alan Watts lately and reflecting a lot on his argument that the idea of separateness between things- that the world is made up of lots of little bits - is a myth, that everything is part of the same whole even though we find it hard to see it that way in the Western world. I think what you describe seems like a great example of how to put that philosophy into practice, ie. living with a deeply held respect for things that aren't 'you' but also in some sense are. I love it when things I read dovetail like this - thank you!
I also love that kind of synchronicity, Kate. I appreciate the encouragement around putting the philosophy into practice. If I feel something deeply, or believe it to be true, I always think, "well, where do I see this in my life in the world." Thanks!
We moved to Maine two years ago, and we can see the tide levels rise and fall in the cove below our house. Somehow it makes the cycle of nature more present. We started tracking moon cycles, sunsets and the high and low tide. It creates a shift from nature as something beautiful we experience, like a movie, to something we live within as a small part of it. Interbeing!
Those are great markers, Todd! We have no tide here (we are about as far from a tide as we can get), but we do track the moon and the Nebraska sunsets are truly remarkable. I also like the movie/something we live comparison. When so much of our lives happens on screens, keeping and cultivating the lived part is so important.
When I moved out of my first apartment after 12 years, I felt like I was leaving behind a dear friend, a part of my very soul.. That space had become sacred to me. It inspired me to write a poem titled "Home", where I told my apartment just how much it had meant to me and how hard it was to leave it. Must share it here sometime. 🙂
Oh, I love that and can so understand it. We have moved many times, and I have often felt the pull of the space and the grief of leaving it. Such a wonderful gift to yourself and to your apartment to write a poem about that relationship. I'd love to read it. Thank you!
Beautiful. Reminds me of a favorite line from a poem: I love you | the way the wind | loves a window.
To imagine a world of sentience only increases my enchantment with it. And the core of that sentience I want to believe is love, our universe simply (and magnificently) just iteration after iteration of love knowing itself as love.
Hi Kimberly! Thank you for this. The line from the poem really captures interbeing in action, so to speak. And thank you for bringing love into the conversation. What does it look like when we do? When we see it all as love:)
When I was a kid, I had quite a few stuffed animals. I remember setting them in positions so they would be comfortable, and for the ones I slept with, I kept their heads outside the covers so they could breathe. I experienced a lot of loss as a child, and so I was very attached to the items I had received from my loved ones who had died. I was trying to hold onto the connections with them. Just knowing their hands had held these things, and now mine held them was a comfort. I think most often in my present life, I've been talking occasionally to the trees and flowers in my yard and in the local parks. "I see you, you late bloomer - way to go!" Or maybe just putting my hand on my favorite trees and taking a few deep breaths, appreciating their presence.
This is really sweet to think about, thank you. ☺️
Hi Caryn, I also have habit of putting a hand on a tree or giving particular attention to plant or other creature I come across on a hike. Each has a presence that is, as you say, worth noting and appreciating. I also think that there's something rather tremendous in the lives of those you lost and how your toys seem carriers of those precious people. I didn't talk about the relationship with memory and "things" in this post, but that adds a whole other dimension to this discussion. Thank you.
Your writing was wonderful Emily, although a part of me thought that you have evolved from a ketchup bottle to a jar of peanut butter!
I had to put one of my chickens down this week. She was very ill, but I couldn’t do it, though I wanted to be part of it. I did have a closing conversation with her. Pets are one of those aspects of creation that are full of the things we see in ourselves and give us insights into what motivates them. Perhaps it started with the large collection of stuffed animals I had as a child. All of those conversations I had with them… Perhaps that’s one of the big connections is that we communicate with them and in the case of stuffed animals, they don’t talk back, but we still build a relationship?
Ha! Yes, I have indeed evolved from ketchup to peanut butter:). I'm sorry to hear about one of your sweet chickens, and I'm glad you got to have a last talk with her. I agree that being able to talk to something, a stuffed animal, a tree, a stone, a dog without having them talk back using our spoken language does contribute to our ability to form different bonds with these non-humans. Now, I want to think about the different ways that all of these beings communicate and how we build relationships with them that do or don't include words. Thank you for this!
I've felt the same way about objects for as long as I can remember. Stones in particular invariably make me pause and wonder --does this little pebble actually want to be picked up? Is a brief connection with me an OK thing, or would they prefer to remain where they are? The answers go both ways., and over time I've become more of a "catch and release" pebble gatherer (or I don't gather at all), as it feels like some stones are interested in a reciprocal relationship with me, and some are not. I feel the same way about objects and beings of all kinds (cars not least!), and am deeply warmed by your words and thoughts on this way of being in and with the world.
Yes! I love to hear you talk about this, Sarah. I absolutely agree - some things, stones, may want a connection, some may not, and listening to find out. I glad my words warm you up:). Thank you!
When I was a child, there was one point on our way to church each week (I am a recovering pastor’s kid, haha) where I would fix my attention on view: layers of landscape grounded in the Appalachia foothills of my county. Recently, I’ve discovered similar views in the part of the other side of the county where I live now. On my drives, I’ve contemplated how this isn’t just a view but where I live. I am part of these hills. This sense of placedness is deepening as I locate myself within this scene and not merely an observer of it.
Thank you for sharing!
That's beautiful, yes, to be a part of the whole, and how does that change how we relate to our landscapes - such a great observation. Thanks Christianna.
What a great read. Thanks, Emily. Because I spend so much time running on mountain trails I’m very privileged to be able to experience that oneness with the earth. That appreciation and wonder is different than the memory items I’ve kept for decades. Heartfelt memories for me but a different kind of longing for.
Yes, there's a distinction there, I think, a difference in relationship and being with. All that time with the earth is such a gift. Thank you Steve.