To Become the Rain

Now, now we must become
the rain,
Letting our bodies sink into
the parched earth, filling
every crevice with a listening
so great that flowers
bloom where our bodies lie.

Look up at the sky and shout
prayers of thanksgiving
that cause
the heavens to join in,
raining down sweet mercy.

There is no choice anymore
but to lie still and sink in.
We must moisten the ground
of each other
with our own sweet essence,

showing the rains,
by our example,
what it is to flow down,
gathering strength and unity.

What is it to love one another?
It is to belly down and
become the rain.
That way
the Earth may remember
and so share her own heart
which beats in-sync with
our own.

Sulis Sarasvati 2011

Birdsong

Waking this morning, birdsong. Instead of feeling like the sounds were in my ears, they seemed to be entering my heart. The vibrations filling and radiating out in persistent and concentric waves making my cells hum and vibrate together…if I say the felt meaning of this experiencing to you in words, it would be ‘love’. I go downstairs without speaking and put on my boots and walk up the lane with our dog. I meet a finch in the Holly tree, sheep is coughing, the air is filled with sound and rich with colours all warmed in the bright sparkling sunlight.

A start….

I am reading two books at the moment. One is ‘The Spell of the Sensuous’ written by David Abram published in 1997 and the other is ‘Vital Signs-Psychological Responses to Ecological Crisis’ edited by Mary-Jayne Rust and Nick Totton and published 2012.

Reading the introduction to the latter, and in engagement with the writers I recognise myself as an activist and feel somehow encouraged by, “But a fundamental principle of activism is that no one can change the world alone; the task is always too big, and we just have to do as much as we can, in the way that we can.” (Introduction xxii Vital Signs)

As I read Viola Sampsons first chapter, in this anthology of (mostly) UK authors, I share with you some of her thoughts, ones that touch me as I engage with her today.

“As objectivity is over-privileged, the value of subjective experience can be easily dismissed and, with that, our empowerment to act on our experience of ecological crisis.”

“I feel bearing witness, grieving, and facing squarely the pain of our collective responsibility, is one of the most important ecopsychological tasks of our time. Honouring our pain can give us an opportunity to grow, shaped by our relationship with our world, just as a tree growing on the edge of a cliff is shaped by the sea winds, and our muscle and bone is wrought from our interactions with our encompassing world. Grief is the process by which we enter a new relationship, wise from the knowledge that shattered our earlier certainties. Living as interconnected, feeling, responsive, and sentient beings, we can move away from trying to “save the planet”, towards actions that are an expression of the earth to save itself- our Self.” (Page 12)

“As industrial civilisation strains ever higher and brighter, some are going down, deeper and wider, facing the shadows and opening to a different way of knowing. From here perhaps a spark of ecocentric consciousness can take hold, where humanity is a living expression of this alive planet’s intelligence, and where the earth’s gestures of humanness flower alongside those of python, mosquito, and rose.”

“Can we complete the intellectual leap of the scientific revolution with a dive into embodiment? Can we reconcile this flight of human consciousness with an opening inwards- and thus outwards- to the depths and expanse of the collective unconscious, the intelligence of the universe?”

November 24th

So, I’ve managed to set up my blog…

My intention is to share some of my journey as I explore the field of ecopsychology and how this is affecting me and consequently my practice. I have been living an awe-full unravelling of my ideas of myself and I am finding connections that feel like I’m being joined up at the roots.

I am finding music again and have recently purchased flutes made from Yew and Holly from Dartmoor. These are of Native American design, different from the silver flute that I played for 10 years until I was 19 and gave up as the joy I found in my connection gave way to pressure and other people’s agendas. So I pick up a flute again.