Dear relatives,
The Wholly Earth newsletter has reached over 250 readers, and I am so thankful to each of you for making space in your lives for this weekly missive. Whether you are new or have been with us for a while, thank you for being here!
In last week’s essay, I mentioned the wonderful experience I had at a recent event. During the gathering, I encountered a chorus of brilliant healing arts practitioners in my community. I even had the opportunity to present a little something on one of my favorite topics: breathwork as a catalyst for personal and collective liberation.
Over the last year, I’ve come to realize that my love for breathwork, and sharing it with others, is rooted in the idea of not looking away. Breathwork is concerned with aspects of culture, medicine, and ecology–themes that this newsletter aims to explore–and serves as a gentle reminder to pay attention to the most subtle parts of life; those points of being that are sometimes hard to see.
The story of one particular presenter has stayed with me, and I’ve been thinking about something she said for the past week. Toward the end of her presentation (which focused on the synergy between fitness and fashion), she addressed how challenging it can be to see oneself amid the noise of other people’s opinions. The struggle for self-acceptance is a universal experience and is often tied to intergenerational trauma, including the loss of traditional lifeways. As a person who did not grow up speaking the language of my ancestors, I understand how difficult it can be to put words to this absence.
In our reading this week, “Love in a Time of Terror: On Natural Landscapes, Metaphorical Living, and Warlpiri Identity,” we delve into the words of beloved nature writer, Barry Lopez. The essay was originally published by Orion Magazine in 2020 and is replete with rich stories and connections from his experience traveling within an Aboriginal Settlement (akin to a reservation in the United States) in Australia's Northern Territory. He speaks to “the failure of love” as a central riff in the hearts of human beings, and calls for more intimate and reciprocal interactions. Black feminist scholar and activist bell hooks refers to this notion as a love ethic, emphasizing love as an action-oriented endeavor; love as praxis.
This idea draws me back to our conversation about breathwork and seeing oneself. It reminds me of the presentation that I offered to the group during the gathering. As we witness the collapse of multiple unjust systems, our hearts and minds will feel the weight. The urge to look away seems logical, but what if we were to, instead, stay with the struggle? As Lopez writes, “You must, at the very least, establish a truce with realities not your own, whether you’re speaking about the innate truth and aura of a landscape or a person.” To not look away from violence and conflict happening in the world, we first have to be willing to keep a steady eye on our interior and exterior life and give ourselves compassion amid personal struggles. We cannot look away from ourselves, nor can we be absolved from collective suffering and grief. Every ounce of feeling matters, every act of love counts.
To close today, relatives, I don’t have a question for the week, but I’ll leave you with two offerings. The first is a quote from the essay that feels profoundly poignant for this current moment in history:
In this trembling moment, with light armor under several flags rolling across northern Syria, with civilians beaten to death in the streets of Occupied Palestine, with fires roaring across the vineyards of California, and forests being felled to ensure more space for development, with student loans from profiteers breaking the backs of the young, and with Niagaras of water falling into the oceans from every sector of Greenland, in this moment, is it still possible to face the gathering darkness, and say to the physical Earth, and to all its creatures, including ourselves, fiercely and without embarrassment, I love you, and to embrace fearlessly the burning world?
Secondly, I’ve compiled my notes from several presentations, talks, and workshops that I’ve given about breathwork over the last three years into a slide deck. The following is what I presented at the women’s wellness gathering. It is a lyrical version, and if read aloud it also feels like a prayer or incantation.
After you’ve read the quote and viewed the slides, if you have any reflections or feedback, I’d love to hear how these landed with, and within you.
With gratitude,
Christian
p.s. As mentioned in the slides above, you can see pinecones breathing here. It is such a delight to witness!
Updates
The Inner Ecology Winter Solstice Session is about three weeks away, and I am looking forward to the gathering! The virtual session will be held on December 9th at noon EST, and during our time, we’ll explore the wisdom of the Winter season through guided breathwork, acupressure, and reflective journaling.
This is a sliding-scale offering that is open to any level of experience. It will be the last workshop for the year. The 2024 workshop dates will be posted in January before the Lunar New Year. Please note that Paid subscribers in the Friends tier have access to all quarterly events. If you want to join us for the workshop, you can upgrade your subscription or register online.
Reading
Next week’s essay will focus on the intersections between the readings over the past month. As a gentle reminder, this missive will be for paid subscribers. Here is our November reading list: “Indigenizing the Future: Why We Must Think Spatially in the Twenty-first Century”, by Daniel R. Wildcat; “Decoloniality and anti-oppressive practices for a more ethical ecology”, by Christopher Trisos, et. al; “Love in a Time of Terror: On Natural Landscapes, Metaphorical Living, and Warlpiri Identity”.
Creating
For the past month, I’ve been diligent about creating more breathing room in my life and work. Here is one way that I am prioritizing this endeavor:
Every night, I practice a breathing meditation right before going to sleep. It has helped to slow my thoughts down and ease me into a more restful state. In the morning, I’ll take a few moments to journal, review what I wrote, and then use that information as a guide for the day, or week. It has helped me to approach each day—and even each moment—with more calm, and less chaos.
It is about coming back to love, in every possible way.
I'm looking forward to following your newsletter, thank you!
Love. How are you? How is your heart? The best questions