The Book of Nature

Reflections

Some questions for reflection, and assorted responses (preferring openings, not summaries or conclusions):

• What stories am I hearing, or involved with, lately?
• How exactly does one (do I) go about this "reading" or "conversation"?
• What have I learned?

I've been hearing a common story a lot these days - a core cultural narrative. It seems to be the first attempt at reconnecting humans and "nature" after the older tradition that says these are separate.

This is the story that says, nature has given us - through evolution - the means to survive. And.. well it sort of ends, like that's supposed to be enough. It's a "low" story, something nearly everyone can agree on - survival is important. This is a story of connection, of unification, but not a very complete or exciting one.

But nature also gives much more: the ability to take comfort, to see beauty, to thrive,
to rely on belonging. This is a really interesting story too. And no less "realistic". These eyes, this mind, that wonders, sees and respond to beauty, are also nature-given, evolved eyes.

This "high" story is not about a different world. It's a different story about the same set of events, a different way of looking at them, one that sees the "deep ground" behind and the "larger space" around what happens. It says that quality - an aesthetic sense - is a fundamental property of existence.

. . .

Patterns are everywhere.
Nature is full of patterns, the forms of how things work or move.
Trees branch. Rivers and their valleys branch. Water branches. Even wind branches, if you could see it. Our veins and arteries branch.

And our bodies branch, from trunk to arm/leg to hand to fingers to hairs and nerves.

There's a basic, less visible pattern:
Almost everything has a "body", which is the way it is in the world.
Feet, legs, a trunk, belly, a head, face, mouth, hands, fingers and toes.
Animals are built this way, but then, so are houses, cups, chairs, mountains and rivers; the wind.
Because they need to stand in the world, face a certain direction, and interact.

This insight seems obvious, ordinary; maybe too abstract to be meaningful. But is it?
I find it ;eads to empathic insight into the "others" with which I share and make the world.
We're a lot alike. We inhabit the world similarly. Observing them - they (the things) can learn for me - teach me things - occasion recognition or respect.

. . .

And how about the "how" of that conversation?

There's something that seems surprising to me, but also reliable, if I'm patient enough to put myself in relationship to an Other, whether that be human (or sentient) or not.

When I listen, give full attention and presence to what is going on around and in front of me, look towards and into its full, unique, and actual nature, I'm turning my attention to "it" as if it had things to tell me, or show me, things I don't already know and can't get abstractly or from any other source. There are two "ends" to the relationship, two parties to the conversation. My attention is "for it", and "It" reveals something new of itself. And at the same time, "it" also gives back something that is "for me". Perhaps it gives a special kind of medicine, something I needed at that time, something I didn't even realize I needed.

This happens when we meet, somehow, in an "in between" space, that is neither "me" not "it", but some mix of the two, and something more. This seems to be the nature of a dialogue or conversation.

Notes

Here are some favorite poems (among many) that treat this theme of conversations with and learning from nature: