What curiosity entwines
“We cannot create what we can't imagine.” —Lucille Clifton
Dear relatives,
I have a short letter for you today, as I am recovering from a late-summer cold. Thankfully, I’ve had a copy of Camille T. Dungy’s Black Nature: Four Centuries of African American Nature Poetry (borrowed through an inter-library loan) to ease things a bit.
This anthology is epic and includes the work of over 90 poets from the diaspora, many of whom were new to me. There were, of course, familiar and beloved names such as Phillis Wheatley, Richard Wright, Audrey Lorde, Nikki Giovanni, Ross Gay, and more. There are many pieces that I love, and one poem in particular by Lucille Clifton titled “the earth is a living thing,” has stayed with me.
This week, whenever I attempted to write before sunrise (as I often do), my little one woke up, always eager to play and ask questions, like “Are there snakes in our world?”, Or recalling a memory of seeing a lake that was so beautiful he began to cry. Although I don’t encounter snakes often, or live very close to any lakes (Lake Erie is about 3 hours away), I can’t imagine a world without them. And I hope my son and my grandchildren never have to imagine life without them either.
I’ve been thinking a lot about play lately, and the ways we are conditioned out of our innate creative capacity. Next year, my son will be in Kindergarten and I deeply worry about what will happen to his vast imagination. As we inch closer to deciding on a school district, I can’t help but wonder what a lack of connection with nature does to creativity and curiosity. The area we live in has very limited access to nature-based schools, however, there is one STEM magnet school (one of only 4 in the entire state) that I’ve actually had the pleasure of working with as a volunteer in their Environmental Club. If I’m being honest, ensuring that there is, at least, a portion of the curriculum dedicated to ecological concerns is the highest priority for me in the decision-making process.
When I consider the ruptures in my imagination, I can draw a clear connection between colonization and capitalism as causative factors—both perpetuate Cartesian thinking, which disembodies society from nature. This, of course, could not be farther from the truth. We are entwined with the world; interdependent in all respects, from the air that we breathe to the earth under our feet.
In the comments, I’d love to hear about a curiosity that has sparked your creativity, either recently, or something that has held your attention through the years.
This time of year, just before the Vernal Equinox, always brings about transformation, sometimes in ways that we least expect.
I look forward to your comments, relatives.
With gratitude,
Christian
Practice Opportunity
The Fall Embodiment Workshop is an online gathering that offers a unique opportunity to deepen your connection with nature and yourself through embodied practices. We’ll meet on Saturday, September 16th at noon EST to explore the wisdom of the seasons and learn how to align your inner rhythms with the cycles of nature. Through guided breathwork, acupressure, and reflective journaling, you will cultivate a greater sense of harmony and well-being. This workshop is sliding scale, and suitable for all levels of experience. Registration and details here.
I’m curious to know…
If you are a paid subscriber or you chose the sliding scale option, and you have yet to receive the connection details, do let me know!
Listening | Reading | Creating
This week, I’ve been listening to too much external noise. While music is always an ally, I’ve noticed that, instead of opting for my favorite playlist or podcast, I am tuning into a lot of social media. I’m over it. Next week, my focus is to pay better attention to my habits and make time for more internal reflection, and contemplative practices. My hope is that this will free up space in my brain and body to consume less and create more.
Recently, noticing and watching the skies and clouds have been a thing, and it makes me imagine a little and more importantly, feel a speck of calm inside my chest.