Given how harmful an invasive species can be, it’s tempting to see them as wholly bad, the “enemy” of a healthy ecosystem that needs to be eradicated. For modern Pagans seeking to live an embodied spirituality grounded in the sacred land, invasives are powerful allies in coming to terms with our own ambivalent role in the ecosystems we inhabit, and the possibilities and choices that lie before us. Too often our modern society encourages us to see nature as fragile and untouchable, and humans as the worst intruders of all. Befriending invasives can teach us valuable lessons about how to be respectful, loving citizens of the planet that we call home.
Our relationship with nature gives rise to a paradox, in the same way that love creates a paradox. The paradox of love closely parallels the on-going struggle we have with the question of whether we are a part of nature, or separate from it. When we think of nature as our beloved, we discover that the answer is in fact: both.
To be a nature-lover is to recognize this paradox: when we love nature, we see that our love both unites us with and differentiates us from what we love. In this way our love of nature affirms the most basic truth of our experience as self-aware creatures: that we are both a part of and apart from the world around us, that we are both whole individuals ourselves, and united in a whole that transcends our individuality.
We want so very much to understand our gods, to know them intimately, to see how they work in our lives. It is tempting to dissect, to analyze, to categorize. And sometimes, it is necessary, even beneficial. We are categorizing creatures, we human beings. We pick out patterns as a matter of survival. When it comes to our gods, we reach for them not only with our prayers and offerings, but with our reason and our intellects — we would know them with our whole selves, in all their parts, in part so that we might know our own selves better in all our parts. The challenge is to delve into theology without killing its subject, to try our hand at analysis and critical thinking without pretending that the numinous divine is a dead thing that will hold still beneath our careful knives. Theology is not dissection. It is much more gruesome than that; it is vivisection.
During the winter holidays, I gorged myself on pie and hot chocolate and twinkling lights and solstice cheer. I hope you did, too! But while I was lolling about in my sugar-induced hibernative haze recovering from a busy and productive fall, two more of my articles were published — “Keystones of the Sacred Land,” in Aontacht Magazine, and “Reading the Book of Nature,” in The Witches’ Voice. Both articles continue my exploration of ecological polytheism and the work I’m doing to blend my naturalist training more into my spiritual practice.
I’m thrilled to be the newest member of the SageWoman team! My first column, “Forever Maiden: Wild Dirt-Worship in the Digital Age,” makes its debut with a story of seeking out those safe spaces to nurture the youthful goddess within. Plus, my contemplative essay “Goddess in the Details” is featured as the lead story for the issue. Squeeee!
The Meadowsweet Commons | Prayer & Praxis | Comments ( 2 )
Spring has definitely sprung here in the rainy emerald city of Seattle: the salmonberry is blooming and, believe it or not, the sun is shining! (For now, anyway.) This past weekend, Jeff and I enjoyed a somewhat belated equinox celebration — we spent all afternoon hiking through the city’s largest park (while I indulged in some wildflower photography and rather clumsy bird-watching), we observed Earth Hour Saturday evening, and we visited the Seattle Aquarium for the first time, where we made the acquaintance of some very adorable, very playful sea otters. And speaking of sea otters (which happen to be a keystone species out here in the Pacific Northwest), two new articles of mine were also published this weekend, both of them exploring the role of keystones as guides and companions in earth-centered spiritual practice.