interconnection and belonging
I recently attended a discussion with author Rebecca Giggs where she discussed how the lives of whales reflect back to us the condition of our oceans, and that - in essence - makes space for us to ponder our relationship with the natural world.
I have always had, but am noticing an even more expansive interest in oceanic life, that is running parallel to my desire to rehabilitate the illusion that we (as humans) are separated from Nature. It still courses, like a curse, through my veins on my worst days. But I have been blessed by the gift of carrying in one hand an undying and tenacious relationship with the Anima Mundi (World Soul) with an exile wound in the other hand, and this is what allows for our Chiron moments - of becoming our own versions of the Wounded Healer. What I’m weaving from mine is an embodied sense of belonging to an Earth that includes human and other-than-human relationships, which makes being here much richer, and much more interesting. Specific to re-weaving relationship to sea mammals, Undrowned: Black Feminist Lessons from Marine Mammals by Alexis Pauline Gumbs has become an eco-mythic guide that resonates through me on a somatic level. I can feel their words. And I remember something about what it used to mean to feel oceanic. A while back I read that when sea life turned to life on land, female bodies adapted to carry the ocean within their bodies, to incubate life that would otherwise be too vulnerable to exist without the warm, salty protection of the womb.
I also recall a video that was shared with me, of whale song heard underwater during a snorkeling excursion. I recall how, when hearing it, the waters inside of me vibrated, how remembered, buried grief churned out wails, of body-sea longing, forgotten until that moment. It feels similar to being with singer Ahlay Blakely, who leads group singing to explore - and be with - communal grieving, and how we are moved by moving grief together. I think the idea is that we’re moved into action, even when action *only means witnessing. I wonder how stirred I would have become had I been in that dynamic water of whale song, enfolded in the vibration, the vibration enfolded in my cells, perhaps to the point of total dissolution. I’m not sure I would have minded that much, to feel the hardness of calcification broken down by the salt, and perhaps to become my own salt crystal. I learned that whales communicate though complex, structured dialect kindred to human language; that their nervous systems combine highly attuned visceral reaction with emotionally sensitive judgement that allows them to bypass connections that are less necessary; that they teach us how to breathe; that they’re living, blue carbon sinks; and that when they die their body becomes a springtime host to feed and grow a diversity of microbes and species necessary to sustain ocean life - which is to say sustain all life on this planet.
To be in contemplation with the wild is akin to the guidance I often share in counsel with others, and I continue to personally evolve what this looks like in my own life so that my interaction with the wild feels less extractive, maybe less feral. What emerged from one recent collaboration was playing with reach - towards connection in the form of an offering, a gift, of gratitude rather than asking for something. To invite. To make space for Nature to step into, and towards. To forge with patience, respect, reverence and a loose grip on our expectations. To allow ourselves to be in a humble position in the dreaming of crow, or tree, or river rather than over-humanizing or situating ourselves centrally, within our own need. I am the first to admit to my anemia, my starvation, my longing for other-than-human connection and relationship, and how I have brought my self-consciousness and feelings of unworthiness, siphoning rather than fortifying. Asking to be built up, to fill the wound, instead of becoming a trusty companion to Earth-beings. Every collaboration I am privileged to sit in reminds me to come back to myself, to widen my arms and not reach from a place of desperation or grasping, but to allow room for trust in what’s bigger, older and wiser. That knowing also exists within each of us. I am unlearning the delusion of control and remembering what it means to trust in the importance of expanding our sensory and experiential gestalt. I feel committed to experiment with extrospection, an ethical responsibility to listen to other-than-human life and how we impact each other, and ultimately live in the image of each other. To trust that they come with their own inner-trusting-knowing too, and desire to meet each other from that place. I’m curious: can we move towards harm reduction when we lean into humility and allow ourselves to be an element within the Anima Mundi? To allow ourselves to be swept along with whale-song, to submit to Earth-speak that comes in form of fire and rain, heat and ice, ground cracking and crumbling, sky falling.
We certainly need to gather around our grief and to acknowledge what has been lost. But we have to be careful not to put the labor of repairing the damage upon the already-injured Earth. One of the most heartbreaking directives I am hearing more and more is that if we love a place, then we must leave it alone. As in, don’t go there. Don’t interfere with Nature’s inherent ability to repair and heal. I can hear this on a cognitive level, but when I allow myself to feel the weight of loss in what’s implied the impulse in me is to run into the arms of the forest. To feel the cooling validation, to smell the scent of growth and decay. But what is really needed is to turn in towards my own grief, one that is carving a hole in my fire-dancing, water-dreaming, air-breathing, Earth-singing heart and to love the ever-lasting life out of what I must let rest. Perhaps that is the mandate - to care for our Earth-Mother with a similar fervor that we have been held with. While we are all of Nature, and possess Nature intelligence, it is only hubris that has us believe that we are the source of (or worse, can override) Nature intelligence. This of course does not mean to not build structures of support, but we have to be honest about their impact. (As an extreme, but tragic example, see the needs of cooling systems on data centers as one example of how water extraction may very likely lead to irreparable ecosystem imbalance). Is there a way we can withdraw just a bit, to allow room for Nature to step towards us, to trust, and be carried by Nature’s dreaming to show us how to repair? In that process can we be moved into something beyond our own imagining? And in that movement, can we feel a sense of deep belonging?
*It’s important to clarify that only here is indicated to emphasize how mainstream culture tends to minimize the importance of active witnessing, and how profound and healing being seen in our grief, and in or our story can be. Those who hold, see and witness are doing heavy psychic and emotional work, as are the ones who bring forth their honest vulnerability.