Such a salve to read these gentle, well-contemplated words of yours today, they indeed resonate deeply within me.
The timely reminder that we are not alone and the mycelium network of physical & emotional connection is always present to be attended to, feels like a lifeline in a moment being dubbed ‘a tipping point for the planet’.
My hands are currently covered in soil from planting trees, sowing food seeds and tending our animals. There is a tremulous uneasiness I can feel when I’m in the garden or on the farm- as if the trees have become watchful and alert, attuned to their own ancient forms of communication their deciduous habits are changing and I can’t help feeling it’s better to listen to them than tune into any clickbait human news…trunks will long outlive trump& the toxic bacteria he surrounds himself with, I have to remind myself
Dearest Tara, I couldn’t agree more, my nervous system chooses listening to the trees over the news any day. Trees are speaking volumes and infinite sense. Would that I could find my way through the soil to be planting with you. I’d love to drop by for a cuppa in your garden.
“That the weft of relations gets thinned out when we are immobilised in global dispair, and yet can be so simply strengthened by small acts of connection.” Beautiful. 🙏
I took some extra time today to listen to you reading. In itself, this was a small act of tripping. I had already read the article, why listen too? The listening convinced me of the value. You read more slowly, more mindfully than I read. I took a few moments more to relax, feel your words, let my body make its own connections. I, too, sing for fallen birds. Thank you for reminding me why.
‘I, too, sing for the fallen birds’ - the beauty and sorrow in these words is an entire lament. Thank you Helen for this gift, for your reading and listening so closely.
I am touched by the beauty and rawness of this piece. Your desire to shake the habits of conversation to allow for the numinous to appear is now sown in the collective. Thank you for modeling it.
Such an honest and beautiful reflection on connection and disconnection, love the image of the play between the two hands, two minds, two responses and most of all two friends . Thank you
Such a salve to read these gentle, well-contemplated words of yours today, they indeed resonate deeply within me.
The timely reminder that we are not alone and the mycelium network of physical & emotional connection is always present to be attended to, feels like a lifeline in a moment being dubbed ‘a tipping point for the planet’.
My hands are currently covered in soil from planting trees, sowing food seeds and tending our animals. There is a tremulous uneasiness I can feel when I’m in the garden or on the farm- as if the trees have become watchful and alert, attuned to their own ancient forms of communication their deciduous habits are changing and I can’t help feeling it’s better to listen to them than tune into any clickbait human news…trunks will long outlive trump& the toxic bacteria he surrounds himself with, I have to remind myself
Dearest Tara, I couldn’t agree more, my nervous system chooses listening to the trees over the news any day. Trees are speaking volumes and infinite sense. Would that I could find my way through the soil to be planting with you. I’d love to drop by for a cuppa in your garden.
“That the weft of relations gets thinned out when we are immobilised in global dispair, and yet can be so simply strengthened by small acts of connection.” Beautiful. 🙏
Ah, you are so good at pick out the gems Kimberly. Thank you!
Thanks for this "tiny, little act of resonance."
My pleasure Chris! Thanks for your reading.
Julia, what you wrote so needs to be said and read! Our world depends on what you said.
Go, my new friend, I hope ...
Thank you Mary for your sweet words!
I took some extra time today to listen to you reading. In itself, this was a small act of tripping. I had already read the article, why listen too? The listening convinced me of the value. You read more slowly, more mindfully than I read. I took a few moments more to relax, feel your words, let my body make its own connections. I, too, sing for fallen birds. Thank you for reminding me why.
‘I, too, sing for the fallen birds’ - the beauty and sorrow in these words is an entire lament. Thank you Helen for this gift, for your reading and listening so closely.
I am touched by the beauty and rawness of this piece. Your desire to shake the habits of conversation to allow for the numinous to appear is now sown in the collective. Thank you for modeling it.
Oh, thanks Andreea and for this lovely word - numinous - it billows like a cloud
Such an honest and beautiful reflection on connection and disconnection, love the image of the play between the two hands, two minds, two responses and most of all two friends . Thank you
Thank you Sally for your inspiration and co-weaving.