Encountering what we long for
Sunshine beams down between green-leaved trees, onto a small creek in the foregound, which shines where the sun touches it. There are moss-covered and submerged rocks throughout the creek.
Thank you for finally showing yourself to me -
I’ve been waiting so long to see you.
She’d been pretty quiet during our time in the forest, and seemed quietly happy to spend an afternoon outside with her adult daughter. As we arrived at the small creek, her face lit up (as did everyone’s in the group - there’s something magical about walking through the forest, next to the sound of running, murmuring water).
We passed bracken and maidenhair ferns - their bright green, glowing new growth reaching out to us from each side of the path. We touched them gently, awed at their softness, at their insistent life.
When I invited folks to find a being to sit near for a bit - a tree, a plant, the creek - she went right down to the water’s edge. We all sat until I knew I had to move us down the trail, but it was tough to interrupt this sweet moment. It was cool there, and quiet, and felt like our own little home for a while.
Later, when we gathered for tea, I passed a cup, explaining this first one would be poured out as thanks to the land. I invited each person to speak into the cup, out loud or silently, anything they wished.
The cup came to her, and she looked past me, past the meadow we now sat in. She looked through the trees, down the hill, all the way down to where the creek runs. She said, “Thank you for finally showing yourself to me - I’ve been waiting so long to see you.”
Who, or what, had she found back there? There are no questions when people share - we simply witness each other. Who or what she encountered, in or outside herself, was for her alone. How long had she waited for this moment? What had stood in the way of this encounter, in the past? And how can I ever thank that forest enough, for meeting her as she’d longed for?
I wonder what your heart longs for. Do your days and nights reflect this longing? Or are they taken up with activities that take you further from what your deepest self desires? We live in late stage capitalism. Most of us have to earn money one way or another to live, and to care for our families and communities. We’re inundated with information - often overwhelming and fear-inducing. Instead of turning toward each other and life, we might retreat into virtual worlds that give us a quick hit of adrenaline, which then rapidly turns to discomfort, or painful comparison, even despair and heartbreak.
My deepest gratitude goes out to those teachers who remind us that our bodies and brains and hearts were not built for this. They were built to dig in the dirt, to move, to be in relationship with the seasons and beings around us. I think of folks like bell hooks and Mariame Kaba for their reminders that hope and love are not exactly, or not only, emotions, but practices - disciplines that we must engage in, over and over again.
When the world’s on fire, does sitting by a creek for a few moments matter? Is this one of those practices of love, of hope, that helps heal fractures that go bedrock-deep? What I know is this - using our bodies and spirits like machines every day will not heal us. Cutting ourselves away from the living world will not heal us.
When we offer ourselves just a moment or two to feel our deepest longings, they often look like connection, love, joy together, labor that serves our soul. Taking time to laugh, to walk in the park, to tend to plants, to stand in solidarity with others, to rest, to read, to play - these are longings that remind us we are not machines, but blood- and breath-filled beings of earth.
What are you longing to meet, or find again? Who, or what, has been missing? Perhaps, if you can, put your back against a tree, or your body down in the grass, and let this question bloom through you.
“We are not meant to allow others to use our life force like a battery for a machine that doesn’t know our names. It matters that we are creating more possibility and justice and joy for ourselves in the present. Yes, our ancestors perhaps knew more about how to be with the Earth; and yes, the more of us who find a relationship with the Earth, the better the future is. But choosing to love the Earth is not just in right relationship to ancestors and those to come, it’s also one of the most healing ways to exist right here and now.”
- adrienne maree brown
