Nature :: Spirit — Kinship in a living world

Have you ever been grabbed by a poem so hard it wouldn’t let go? I recently found “Closing Time; Iskandariya,” by Brigit Pegeen Kelly and couldn’t put it down. Living with it over days revealed layer after layer of wonder and meaning—a thrill for someone trained in close reading of texts. At least one of those layers outlines a pathway for making peace with Earth. Cello music with the poem today is by The Wong Janice.

Young people in Hawaiʻi just won a huge victory in a climate lawsuit that will end carbon emissions in the state’s transportation. But why are the children doing this work? Today we listen to Indigenous voices from communities around the world that are losing their homelands because of climate change, and we reflect on land and kinship and identity. We ask, Am I doing everything I can to work for the climate? With suggestions for resources to help in lowering our own carbon footprint and finding heart-based pathways toward change.

A path of listening, learned first in the yoga class of a beloved teacher in Boulder. For five years I attended her class, five years of book writing and coming to terms with my older brother's death. Wendy taught us how to move by listening—listening first to the body and breath, which is listening to the Earth. Here is a story of listening in Wendy's class.

Why is there a price on land? When land is the living source of all our food—and of us—why do we think we can own it? We take a look at how private landownership got put into law in England in the 1600s to justify the landlords’ seizing of common lands. And how we might imagine our way to a different system. With inspiration for our imaginations from Dr. Lyla June Johnston (Diné) and Greek economist Yanis Varoufakis. And a first imaginary glimpse into an economy where land is free.

On rivers, the secret river, and what one very early project from 1400 BCE to drain a lake can tell us about both. Plus, what losing spiritual connection to the irrepressible flow of life looks like: reaching for power and control over ourselves and others. How can we stay open to the life-giving currents, even those we don't understand?

Looking up and opening the heart at the Solstice. We delve into the stories told by people through the ages about Venus and Orion and share some cool facts about red giants and blue giants. In a season for cultivating peace and goodwill, we turn to the stars to evoke wonder and awe and to cleanse the heart for a new year. 

In a recent university talk Robin Wall Kimmerer, author of Braiding Sweetgrass, reflected on how Indigenous understandings of what she called our “shared responsibility for Mother Earth” can help us heal our relationship with the land. “What does the Earth ask of us?” she asked. She suggested that Indigenous principles for relating with land might help guide Western science so that all can thrive. We reflect on three of these principles—responsibility, respect, and reciprocity—and we ask what might be possible if they informed Western knowing. And we end with Robin’s ideas about how to give back to the Earth.

After my first book came out I hit a wall, feeling churned up inside. What was going on? I turned inward to find out, crossing right over the sharp line that the Western world draws between matter and spirit. I began to talk in spirit with an animal helper: a bear. Some thoughts on the limits that the matter-spirit split imposes on Western thinking, and how most Indigenous traditions regard reality as one unified whole, matter and spirit flowing together through every being and part of Earth. How talking with a bear in spirit nudged me toward larger definitions of myself and of the world. With assists today from Rumi and Vine Deloria Jr.

Here on Maui we’re in crisis since the fire that destroyed Lahaina two weeks ago. But some of the same patterns of using and abusing water that contributed to this crisis are all too familiar from a history of colonizing people and land—including the land where I grew up in Ohio—that extends all the way back to ancient Mesopotamia. Today we look at a few of those historical connections and ask: When is diverting water harmful? What does it look like to care for land, or as we say here, mālama ʻāina?

Getting tripped up in the early stages of writing my next book leads to some reflections on the process of writing the first two. More about how life led me to listening from the heart instead of following thoughtful plans and chapter outlines. On being open to the moment—in writing and life.