The prompting you are doing helps me take a step back and consider my spirituality with a little distance. For years it was connected to a certain niche in the Christian church, fed by the sacred music of composers like Bach, and the opening of windows that ancient liturgical rhythms and cadences offered. I also encountered the sacred in the natural world, and always sought out places of serenity and awe. So I experienced the ebb flow of seasons through the liturgical calendar as well as the natural one.
Now, I am not active in the church and my health keeps me home. But I still think of spirituality as opening to the innate mystery and awe and the complexity of life that comprises the communities in which I live. Now, I experience the cycle of the year much more through the natural movements than the liturgical ones. And my immersion in the outdoors is primarily in my own backyard. If you ask me, I could probably tell you what day of the year it is by where the sun rises and sets in my view. I’m not sure I could tell you where we are in the liturgical year that carefully anymore!
I am glad to give you a glimpse of the ranch, and to bring you back to your restorative memories from your time here.
Your comments about the change in your consciousness of the passing of the year now that you aren't intimately involved in the church are interesting ones. I would bet that you were conscious of three calendars in your years in ministry: the secular calendar, the liturgical calendar and also the calendar of the natural world. And the latter two, as you say, informed your spirituality. (The secular calendar may have and still may play a part in your spirituality too. That might be an interesting thing to consider.) And now your experience of the sacred is primarily informed by nature, and nature right at home, which I think is most important to all of us, whether we realize it or not. I think of the sacred that is right around us all the time is our richest source of solace and renewal, of inspiration and grounding. And I am grateful that you are so aware of that and able to honor and appreciate it.
You've inspired me to begin my own year of intentional spiritual thinking on this Summer Solstice. I've been a spiritual seeker all my life. Lately, I've been dabbling in secular buddhism; but, it doesn't feel like home to me. I've joked that I'm more of a Druid than anything else. Maybe that's not such a joke ;-) The natural world is my spiritual source, and I'm fortunate to live where I have easy access to nature and wildlife. Serendipity brought me to your writing yesterday, and I'm truly grateful for your inspiration.
I'm honored to have inspired you, Joni, and I'm glad that the universe brought you to my work! On spirituality, when I find myself needing to think up labels for my beliefs, I come up with Pagan Quaker, the latter because of Quakerism's emphasis on individual relaxation, the former because I am so intimately involved with the great mystery that is life on this planet. I can see why Druid might work as a label too. I think the most important thing I've learned is to trust my own intuitive spiritual sense, and not worry about which box I fit in! Blessings to you.
I have been thinking about you and your writing, Susan. Spirituality is not something I have given much thought to over my six decades. I rebelled, rather dramatically, against my forced childhood participation in the Catholic Church and maintained a level of rebellion over the years toward anything that appeared religious. During that same time, I began to seek out intentional time and experiences within nature. Tending my garden, hiking a trail, and camping in our national forests formed the foundation of my now greatest relationship - with the landscapes I inhabit. My mid-life awakening led me to pursue what you describe as honoring the natural rhythms of our lives.
Knowing it was predicted to be 85F this afternoon, I headed out to my struggling native plant hedgerow and began weeding in the cool breeze of early morn. I felt the sun's thermal energy gradually touch my body. I might have finished another section but the unseen ravens were having their own coffee klatch so I spent a lot of time scanning the Doug firs, looking to visually eavesdrop. Such a simple experience - I thanked it out loud.
Sue, I suspect that your intuitive self knew what you needed to feed your spirit and your spirituality, even if you didn't bring those needs into your conscious intention. Hence your turning away from organized religion and turning to time in nature, whether your garden or wilder communities of the land. I honor your instincts and your ability to do what was healthy for yourself, even if you weren't consciously thinking about it! And how lovely that you could get outside before the heat and nurture your native plant hedgerow, and then enjoy the ravens' coffee klatch--they are so verbal and vocal! May those experiences be nurturing and give you strength as you prepare for the next chapter, wherever that will take you. Blessings!
I am so glad you wrote about your days and how they reflect the core of WHO you are and what is important to you. How everything you do is woven together with the threads of Nature and Mystery and how the day unfolds with joy as you uncover unsuspected bits of the earth and flowers on your path. I think about the many people I work with that are in meetings, behind computers and in big cities where they do not have the access to the large ecosystems we have here in the West. I remind them that birds are their constant companions even in the dingiest of places and that with awareness we can link our days to our connection to what gives our life greater depth and meaning. Happy Summer days to you dear Susan from over here in Beulah.
Helene, I too think about those who don't feel like they have access to nature, and I like to remind them that plants grow everywhere, birds inhabit the densest of human centers, and lichens grow on the stones of buildings. Not to mention, of course, the millions of microbes who live on and in us and are integral to our functioning as the selves we think we are! It's true that we in the less crowded parts of the West are fortunate to have such vast swaths of wildness to draw on, but as you say, it only takes a bit of nature to reconnect to the source of awe and mystery. Happy Summer to you too from my home for two more days in the Wind River Mountains of western Wyoming.
They are amazing beings, especially so to me because they defy ordinary classification--are they a fungus? Yes, but not entirely. Are they an alga or photosynthesizing bacteria? Yes, but not entirely. What then are they? A collaboration? A community of two? It's just not clear! :)
This Is something that I have slowly come to. I felt it as a merging with the canyon at Sycamore Creek in the Pajarito Mountains of Arizona, just above the Mexican border, and a similar experience with the rainforest at El Yunque in Puerto Rico and the lowland forest of Trinidad. There is a certain sympathy in the realization that we are all part of the cycle, not separate from it.
David, "Merging" with the community of the land is a good way to describe that experience of oneness with the myriad of lives in and around us. I am glad that your rambles and your fieldwork have taken you to places where you have felt that sense of being part of the great sacred cycle of life. It is incomparable, and it changes our sense of who we are and how we belong. Happy Solstice!
"Second, my spirituality is earth-focused and earth-informed. It is part and parcel of my terraphilia. I am grounded in and uplifted by the web of interrelationships that makes up what we call nature, including humans. For me, simply being part of the seasons, the flux and flex of life, watching and learning about the more-than-human lives around me is a sacred experience."
Your words say exactly how I feel also. Nature is my spirituality and my sacred place. It is the Mystery, that place that is really Real, where true life lies. I smiled when I read that you have named your truck. My truck is dark blue, and her name is Sapphire. She is often thanked and told "good job!". That aside, I think if we consider that everything around us is alive, it enriches our own lives and creates a direct connection with the entire Earth.
Finding ways to practice terraphilia and examine and appreciate each moment is soul centering. I love your discussion of this. Close to my heart. Thank you.
Jenny, Your phrase, "that place that is really Real," is what I think Thoreau meant in his ecstatic words about his experience atop Mount Katahdin in Maine, "The actual world! .... Contact! Contact!" The wonderful thing about a relationship with nature, especially nature right around us, is that it's accessible to everyone. We don't need to go to the Big Wild to connect and ground ourselves, to be inspired by the living sacred; that relationship is offering itself right where we are, every day.
I am so glad you're here and that this discussion of practicing terraphilia is nurturing. Blessings!
An extremely worthwhile and difficult goal, Susan. I meditate in the morning and then read a translation of a Rumi poem. When I finish the collection, I begin again. Whatever I learn, I must relearn. I think that might be the plight of being human. It is certainly the plight of this human. Thank you for the stunning video.
What a rich routine to begin the day, Phyllis! Do you have The Illuminated Rumi with translations by Coleman Barks? I love that book. And yes, to be human is to re-learn our essential lessons over and over again until they finally settle in. I think when we stop learning, we are ready to move on to whatever is next after this life. :)
What beautiful invitations, Susan! I'm currently on a retreat/rest for a few days in northeastern KS. Your words have given me something to ponder as I think about how my life will change in the next couple of years (no kids at home), and how I want to be with that change and also the new. What rhythms do I want/need now? What will help me ground? Thank you!
Emily, I hope your retreat time in northeastern Kansas is rejuvenating and rich with inspiration and contemplative time. The transition from having kids at home to not is definitely a big change, and I found that while I could think about it ahead of time and that kind of pondering and preparing was useful, what unfolded wasn't necessarily what I imagined. Regardless, I know you will find what you need as you need it!
Thank you, Susan. It has been really lovely. In my experience, changes don't often unfold as I imagine them. Here's to finding what we need and remembering to look for it and ask for it.
I'm glad that your time "away" has been really lovely. And re asking for what we need when we don't find it ourselves, that is a critical skill to practice, and one I remind myself often that I need to work on!
Thank you for bringing me back to the ranch!
The prompting you are doing helps me take a step back and consider my spirituality with a little distance. For years it was connected to a certain niche in the Christian church, fed by the sacred music of composers like Bach, and the opening of windows that ancient liturgical rhythms and cadences offered. I also encountered the sacred in the natural world, and always sought out places of serenity and awe. So I experienced the ebb flow of seasons through the liturgical calendar as well as the natural one.
Now, I am not active in the church and my health keeps me home. But I still think of spirituality as opening to the innate mystery and awe and the complexity of life that comprises the communities in which I live. Now, I experience the cycle of the year much more through the natural movements than the liturgical ones. And my immersion in the outdoors is primarily in my own backyard. If you ask me, I could probably tell you what day of the year it is by where the sun rises and sets in my view. I’m not sure I could tell you where we are in the liturgical year that carefully anymore!
I’m continuing to explore…
I am glad to give you a glimpse of the ranch, and to bring you back to your restorative memories from your time here.
Your comments about the change in your consciousness of the passing of the year now that you aren't intimately involved in the church are interesting ones. I would bet that you were conscious of three calendars in your years in ministry: the secular calendar, the liturgical calendar and also the calendar of the natural world. And the latter two, as you say, informed your spirituality. (The secular calendar may have and still may play a part in your spirituality too. That might be an interesting thing to consider.) And now your experience of the sacred is primarily informed by nature, and nature right at home, which I think is most important to all of us, whether we realize it or not. I think of the sacred that is right around us all the time is our richest source of solace and renewal, of inspiration and grounding. And I am grateful that you are so aware of that and able to honor and appreciate it.
Explore on!
Yes!
You've inspired me to begin my own year of intentional spiritual thinking on this Summer Solstice. I've been a spiritual seeker all my life. Lately, I've been dabbling in secular buddhism; but, it doesn't feel like home to me. I've joked that I'm more of a Druid than anything else. Maybe that's not such a joke ;-) The natural world is my spiritual source, and I'm fortunate to live where I have easy access to nature and wildlife. Serendipity brought me to your writing yesterday, and I'm truly grateful for your inspiration.
I'm honored to have inspired you, Joni, and I'm glad that the universe brought you to my work! On spirituality, when I find myself needing to think up labels for my beliefs, I come up with Pagan Quaker, the latter because of Quakerism's emphasis on individual relaxation, the former because I am so intimately involved with the great mystery that is life on this planet. I can see why Druid might work as a label too. I think the most important thing I've learned is to trust my own intuitive spiritual sense, and not worry about which box I fit in! Blessings to you.
I have been thinking about you and your writing, Susan. Spirituality is not something I have given much thought to over my six decades. I rebelled, rather dramatically, against my forced childhood participation in the Catholic Church and maintained a level of rebellion over the years toward anything that appeared religious. During that same time, I began to seek out intentional time and experiences within nature. Tending my garden, hiking a trail, and camping in our national forests formed the foundation of my now greatest relationship - with the landscapes I inhabit. My mid-life awakening led me to pursue what you describe as honoring the natural rhythms of our lives.
Knowing it was predicted to be 85F this afternoon, I headed out to my struggling native plant hedgerow and began weeding in the cool breeze of early morn. I felt the sun's thermal energy gradually touch my body. I might have finished another section but the unseen ravens were having their own coffee klatch so I spent a lot of time scanning the Doug firs, looking to visually eavesdrop. Such a simple experience - I thanked it out loud.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts.
Sue, I suspect that your intuitive self knew what you needed to feed your spirit and your spirituality, even if you didn't bring those needs into your conscious intention. Hence your turning away from organized religion and turning to time in nature, whether your garden or wilder communities of the land. I honor your instincts and your ability to do what was healthy for yourself, even if you weren't consciously thinking about it! And how lovely that you could get outside before the heat and nurture your native plant hedgerow, and then enjoy the ravens' coffee klatch--they are so verbal and vocal! May those experiences be nurturing and give you strength as you prepare for the next chapter, wherever that will take you. Blessings!
I am so glad you wrote about your days and how they reflect the core of WHO you are and what is important to you. How everything you do is woven together with the threads of Nature and Mystery and how the day unfolds with joy as you uncover unsuspected bits of the earth and flowers on your path. I think about the many people I work with that are in meetings, behind computers and in big cities where they do not have the access to the large ecosystems we have here in the West. I remind them that birds are their constant companions even in the dingiest of places and that with awareness we can link our days to our connection to what gives our life greater depth and meaning. Happy Summer days to you dear Susan from over here in Beulah.
Helene, I too think about those who don't feel like they have access to nature, and I like to remind them that plants grow everywhere, birds inhabit the densest of human centers, and lichens grow on the stones of buildings. Not to mention, of course, the millions of microbes who live on and in us and are integral to our functioning as the selves we think we are! It's true that we in the less crowded parts of the West are fortunate to have such vast swaths of wildness to draw on, but as you say, it only takes a bit of nature to reconnect to the source of awe and mystery. Happy Summer to you too from my home for two more days in the Wind River Mountains of western Wyoming.
Yes dear Susan Thank goodness for lichens. They have saved me before!
They are amazing beings, especially so to me because they defy ordinary classification--are they a fungus? Yes, but not entirely. Are they an alga or photosynthesizing bacteria? Yes, but not entirely. What then are they? A collaboration? A community of two? It's just not clear! :)
This Is something that I have slowly come to. I felt it as a merging with the canyon at Sycamore Creek in the Pajarito Mountains of Arizona, just above the Mexican border, and a similar experience with the rainforest at El Yunque in Puerto Rico and the lowland forest of Trinidad. There is a certain sympathy in the realization that we are all part of the cycle, not separate from it.
David, "Merging" with the community of the land is a good way to describe that experience of oneness with the myriad of lives in and around us. I am glad that your rambles and your fieldwork have taken you to places where you have felt that sense of being part of the great sacred cycle of life. It is incomparable, and it changes our sense of who we are and how we belong. Happy Solstice!
You are speaking my language, Susan. Midsummer blessings, may your earth-loving path continue to shine brightly for you! xo
Thank you, Carmine! I so appreciate your words and your support! Midsummer blessings to you as well! xo back.... :)
"Second, my spirituality is earth-focused and earth-informed. It is part and parcel of my terraphilia. I am grounded in and uplifted by the web of interrelationships that makes up what we call nature, including humans. For me, simply being part of the seasons, the flux and flex of life, watching and learning about the more-than-human lives around me is a sacred experience."
Your words say exactly how I feel also. Nature is my spirituality and my sacred place. It is the Mystery, that place that is really Real, where true life lies. I smiled when I read that you have named your truck. My truck is dark blue, and her name is Sapphire. She is often thanked and told "good job!". That aside, I think if we consider that everything around us is alive, it enriches our own lives and creates a direct connection with the entire Earth.
Finding ways to practice terraphilia and examine and appreciate each moment is soul centering. I love your discussion of this. Close to my heart. Thank you.
Jenny, Your phrase, "that place that is really Real," is what I think Thoreau meant in his ecstatic words about his experience atop Mount Katahdin in Maine, "The actual world! .... Contact! Contact!" The wonderful thing about a relationship with nature, especially nature right around us, is that it's accessible to everyone. We don't need to go to the Big Wild to connect and ground ourselves, to be inspired by the living sacred; that relationship is offering itself right where we are, every day.
I am so glad you're here and that this discussion of practicing terraphilia is nurturing. Blessings!
I am happy to have discovered you and looking forward to more discussion of terraphilia.
An extremely worthwhile and difficult goal, Susan. I meditate in the morning and then read a translation of a Rumi poem. When I finish the collection, I begin again. Whatever I learn, I must relearn. I think that might be the plight of being human. It is certainly the plight of this human. Thank you for the stunning video.
What a rich routine to begin the day, Phyllis! Do you have The Illuminated Rumi with translations by Coleman Barks? I love that book. And yes, to be human is to re-learn our essential lessons over and over again until they finally settle in. I think when we stop learning, we are ready to move on to whatever is next after this life. :)
What beautiful invitations, Susan! I'm currently on a retreat/rest for a few days in northeastern KS. Your words have given me something to ponder as I think about how my life will change in the next couple of years (no kids at home), and how I want to be with that change and also the new. What rhythms do I want/need now? What will help me ground? Thank you!
Emily, I hope your retreat time in northeastern Kansas is rejuvenating and rich with inspiration and contemplative time. The transition from having kids at home to not is definitely a big change, and I found that while I could think about it ahead of time and that kind of pondering and preparing was useful, what unfolded wasn't necessarily what I imagined. Regardless, I know you will find what you need as you need it!
Thank you, Susan. It has been really lovely. In my experience, changes don't often unfold as I imagine them. Here's to finding what we need and remembering to look for it and ask for it.
I'm glad that your time "away" has been really lovely. And re asking for what we need when we don't find it ourselves, that is a critical skill to practice, and one I remind myself often that I need to work on!
Oh boy, yes.