Earth and Spirit: Belonging to the Earth
As the crickets’ soft autumn hum
is to us
so we are to the trees
as they are
to the rocks and the hills—Gary Snyder
What does it mean to belong to the Earth?
At present, it seems that our western culture has slowly devolved into a culture of dissociation, where we as a people have become estranged from our natural world, from community, from our bodies, from our creativity, from the mystery. Either by choice or necessity, many people are hurrying through their lives, receiving information and entertainment mediated by electronics, driving past each other to get home, eating mass-produced food grown and prepared by strangers.
We are forgetting, in this hurried and stressful culture, that we are creatures moving and breathing on a living planet. I believe that this forgetting of our place on Earth is the source of vast wells of personal and collective loneliness, disempowerment, and grief.
The UU Seventh Principle reminds us that we are to hold “respect for the interdependent web of all existence, of which we are a part.” The “of which we are a part” section is deeply important, because otherwise we may become lost in the false separation between ourselves as human beings and the rest of the earthly realm.
The teachings we draw upon as a faith—from existentialist philosophers to indigenous teachings, to cosmology and Buddhism and other faith traditions—all have a lot to say about interdependence and connection. I do believe, however, that sometimes where we may fall short in this inquiry of belonging is in how we live into the idea.
You may be able to easily identify where you feel that sense of embodied belonging. The visceral moment of remembering our connections to the All is what I call grace.
It may be in the garden, or sitting with a child, or working side by side with friends on a service project. It is a practice of mindfulness, this belonging—noticing what is, feeling it in your core.
The beautiful thing about grace is that it is always there, waiting for your attention. And, once you deeply know your belonging, you feel more deeply motivated and empowered to act on behalf of the All.
Rainforest activist John Seed came to see this when he said, “I am not protecting the rainforest. I am the part of the rainforest that has arisen to protect itself.” This is truly a gift that serves our faith’s commitment to love and justice.
Personal Story
When I was around seven years old, I experienced a moment of grace, of a radical sense of connectedness that I have never forgotten, and which has deeply informed my life. I lived in a coastal area, and across the street from my house was a small cove with a beach where my brothers and I often played together.
I woke up early one morning around sunrise and decided to have an adventure. I never got up early, and the idea of going out at such a special time of day felt exciting and daring. I got dressed and snuck out of the house. Crossing the road to head down to the soft, sandy beach, I saw the sun rising over the water in the cove.
I walked down to the water’s edge, noticing the sun’s reflection in the water, and started looking for shells, as I often did. There were small moon jellyfish, and minnows that played in the water there, and I watched for them as well.
As I walked around enjoying the privacy and specialness of this adventure, a flash of bright blue caught my eye. I wandered over to a section of sand dune that was swept up on the side of the beach. It was a large, bare patch of sand, and growing out of it was a huge, periwinkle-colored morning glory, wide and open. I had never seen this color in nature before, and I wondered how such a flower could just grow out of the sand like that.
All at once, my seven-year-old self was struck by a realization that I had never considered before. It felt like the flower was a special gift just for me, and that this gift was sent to tell me that I was a part of a larger life that I had never imagined.
I remember feeling so in awe, and I wondered if God was talking to me. I was raised in a way that didn’t use the word God much, so this was definitely not a part of my usual way of thinking. But I remember feeling a particular sense in my body, a kind of hum, that let me know that this was not just some random story I was telling myself, but something much bigger.
Since that time, I have had other experiences of what I now call grace, many of them in nature, but not all.
I was at my farmers’ market a few years ago, in the early autumn. There was a German polka band playing, and everyone was out—shoppers with their colorful bags and dogs of all sizes; beautiful fall flowers; small children bouncing up and down in time to the polka beat; changing leaves in the trees. I looked up into the sky to see a particular autumn light shining down on us all, and I immediately started weeping, and the words “I am home!” rang through my heart. This was my neighborhood, my people, my trees, my Home.
It isn’t always easy to sense our belonging, but I take comfort in knowing it is there even when I don’t notice.
Lately I have tried to make space in my life for that knowing. In the face of what can be a lonely and confusing world, I think our capacity to connect to our belonging to Earth is needed more than ever. As we navigate ever-faster storms of change, our roots of belonging can hold us for the duration.
A Prayer
Spirit of Life, remind me of my deep belonging to this world.
May I know in my bones my true place in the family of Earth.
Just as the roots of a tree belong to the soil and microbes,
and the branches of that tree belong to the wind and birds that come to perch,
may I know my own deep roots and wide branches
as belonging to a greater forest of life.
As such, may I know regularly the gift of grace,
and act whenever I am able in service to the whole.
A Spiritual Practice
I offer as a spiritual practice a Mindfulness Meditation on Belonging.
Take yourself to a place of comfort and beauty—perhaps in nature, but it can be anywhere. Find a place to sit comfortably, and start to pay attention to your breathing.
As you breathe, see yourself as a creature, sitting, breathing, feeling the warmth or coolness of the thing you are sitting on, using your senses to notice the sights, smells, sensations around you. With each breath, simply be as that creature, as any creature that is a part of its landscape.Imagine the boundary of your skin as simply another connection to a larger part of you.
If thoughts drift in, simply let them drift through and go back to breathing, sensing, being a body in the larger Body of Earth. See if this changes something in your heart, or your body. If it helps, write or draw or dance or create a symbol for this experience that you can return to.
Let us remember within us
The ancient clay,
Holding the memory of seasons,
The passion of the wind,
The fluency of water,
The warmth of fire,
The quiver-touch of the sun
And shadowed sureness of the moon.That we may awaken,
To live to the full
The dream of the Earth
Who chose us to emerge
And incarnate its hidden night
In mind, spirit, and light.—from “In Praise of the Earth” by John O’Donohue
- Earth and Spirit: Belonging to the Earth - November 13, 2011
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