Thomas Berry, a Passionist Priest and ‘geologian,’ wrote about the history of the Earth from a geological and theological perspective. He could see from the past and present what was needed for the future. He knew what had been lost and what needed to be recovered, mainly an intimate and mystical relationship with place.
“The ancient human-Earth relationship must be recovered in a new context, in its mystical as well as in its physical functioning. There is need for awareness that the mountains and rivers and all living things, the sky and its sun and moon and clouds all constitute a healing, sustaining sacred presence for humans which they need as much for their psychic integrity as for their physical nourishment.” ~ Catching the Power of the Wind, Thomas Berry
This is the invisible half of life and it’s something I think about a lot. When it comes to exploring our perceptual world, we do this by noticing what’s often overlooked – there but not seen. In my workshop on Place, we work on identifying and restoring the (invisible) stories of our place from a geological, indigenous, watershed, wildlife, climate, and cultural perspective. Today, I’d like you to consider other invisible parts of life and the language of place.
The Invisibles
When we tap into our perceptual world (pre-intellectual awareness), we see according to our senses, intuition, emotions, and the space between us. David Abram wrote about this in the Spring 2006 Issue of Parabola Magazine, in a piece called The Invisibles. Here’s a summary of the points he makes.
By invisible, he’s not necessarily referring to the subatomic or supernatural realms, although they’re part of it too. He says you can start by becoming aware of what’s hidden behind things and inside things. These invisible elements are there and a part of our perception but we can’t see them. Abram calls these horizontal and vertical depth. They lend a sense of mystery to our everyday world. There are also other unseen dimensions – like sounds and smells, as well as our thoughts. And, let’s not forget another form of invisibility or concealment, that which moves between things, through the medium of the air or atmosphere. Abram calls this the depth of immersion.
How these three depth dimensions interweave is different in each place and this is what is called the genius loci or the particular power of a place.
Every encounter we have in our life is influenced by this invisibility, and unique to a particular time and place. Thomas Berry spoke to this when he said, “the universe is a communion of subjects, not a collection of objects.” We sometimes sense or intuit these invisible relationships but we can never perceive them exactly. Berry also talked about the numinous quality of things, their essence or sacred and awe-inspiring quality. These too are invisible.
Environmental writer Barry Lopez speaks about the numinous quality of the more-than-human world in the context of it looking back at us. In other words, there’s a mutual encounter. The thing you’re looking at is no longer a thing, but a sentient being undergoing an experience just as you are. Abram agrees. He says that when we treat the world as an object from which we ourselves are separate, we’re destroying the ability of this planet to support us. We must include ourselves in the encounter and remember how we’re supported by the world around us and how our actions contribute. There’s a relationship happening in this invisible in between and the quality of that relationship determines what happens. When we perceive this momentary encounter and how it’s influenced by the genius loci of the place, we begin to see the true reality of the moment. This isn’t something that can be explained, only acknowledged. Everything contributes to the dance.
The Language of Place
“To be native to a place, one must learn its language.” – Robin Wall Kimmerer
Robin Wall Kimmerer speaks of the invisible as the language of a place. How do we learn this language? One way is to listen carefully to all the many ways your place speaks in languages different from your own – plant fragrances, bird song, the wind. Or what about the force that causes a flower to bloom? These invisible forces are what Kimmerer calls the grammar of animacy.
In Potawatomi this grammar of animacy means that we have the linguistic structure to speak of the living world as if it were alive, as if it was a person, as if it were our family – because in our way of thinking, it is.
The word animate means “possessing or characterized by life, alive, a living thing, full of life” (Merriam Webster). We think of humans, plants, and animals as being animate. However, rocks and water, mountains and fire, songs and places, all have elements of animacy, of aliveness. We just can’t see their growth and change with our eyes. A language of animacy holds all things with equal respect and worthiness.
When learning a new language, we often begin with nouns, naming things. This is fairly easy, a matter of memorization but tells us nothing about the things themselves. In the Ojibwe language, many things that we would consider nouns in the English language are, in fact, verbs. For example, “to be a bay.” What does that mean? Here are Kimmerers thoughts.
“A bay is a noun only if water is dead. When bay is a noun, it is defined by humans, trapped between its shores and contained by the word. But the verb wiikegama–to be a bay–releases the water from bondage and lets it live. “To be a bay” holds the wonder that, for this moment, the living water has decided to shelter itself between these shores, conversing with cedar roots and a flock of baby mergansers. Because it could do otherwise–become a stream or an ocean or a waterfall, and there are verbs for that, too. To be a hill, to be a sandy beach, to be a Saturday, all are possible verbs in a world where everything is alive. Water, land, and even a day, the language a mirror for seeing the animacy of the world, the life that pulses through all things, through pines and nuthatches and mushrooms.“
In her book Becoming Wise, Krista Tippett writes, “The words we use shape how we understand ourselves, how we interpret the world, how we treat others. Words make worlds.” So, maybe by changing our language we’ll change our relationship with the natural world. Something that might mutually benefit both parties. One way to begin changing your language and noticing the relationships in between is to visit the same place on a regular basis and observe closely. I wrote about my experience doing this at this post, Eco-Awakening at the Pond.
Can you see the life that pulses through all things? Pay attention to the invisible half of life today.
How to do this. As you become aware of a perception – an encounter between subjects, take note of the invisible part of your perception. What’s behind each subject, what’s inside, and what’s between? You don’t have to name or guess or even imagine what this might be. As a matter of fact, it’s better that you don’t. Just recognize that it’s there and a part of the perception. Take note of the invisible relationship which lies in the space or air between. The quality of that relationship depends upon what each brings to the encounter and is also influenced by the particular quality of the atmosphere in that time and place. Pay attention to the languages of animacy around you. Sense the dynamic and timeless nature of the encounter.
Articles Cited
* Catching the Power of the Wind – Thomas Berry
* The World We Still Have – An interview with Barry Lopez, Sun Magazine
* Animism, Perception, and Earthly Craft of the Magician – David Abram