I had my first hug this week in two months, from a friend’s child I’m visiting in Denver. Solo van life can be so physically isolating. That’s the one part that’s hard to get used to.
It is great to hear from you and learn that you have migrated now to the Colorado Rockies. I have recently wondered where you might be. And it is good to know that you, too, have been uplifted by a hug--such a small word for such a significant act. May it carry you these next miles.
Thank you for articulating the nuance here in the "world of humanity" of that experience. Some of these encounters I have had will live on in me for a very long time. That strangers welcome me, a stranger to their home; that I go and bed down (in my home) at their home--all of it speaks to a fundamental goodness.
Dear Renee, I love this intimate window into the world you have occupied and the precious connections that you are making along the way. A joyful moment to reflect on what has changed for you and within you. A reminder that there is nothing quite like human contact when it is something that has not been available to you. And those darn tissues that never fail to leave their trail! I can only send you a virtual hug, I am with you in spirit 💫🙏
It is so good to read your read on this. I can never seem to remember all the pockets that I stuff tissues, especially this time of year!
There was some synchronicity to that touch, as I had just written last week about touch, a few days before encountering Lynda and being as stirred by my response as by the hug.
The circling back toward home is certainly a time of reflection about what has changed, Louise.
Thank you for the virtual hug. I feel it across that great pond.
Guess what I found as I just got my washing out of the machine……….the remains of a tissue! I thought of you as I did the ‘fluff shake’ and that this connected us across the miles. Have a wonderful day of joy. Louise x
The yearning that is inside of all of us is something much bigger than our individual self. The conscious desire of Spirit calling our attention, to see what is trying to come through us. Desire is asking us to pause, to allow, and then to do the work to bring it into the world, whether that is to create the painting or to park on the land of a stranger and enter their home.
I will ponder the idea of Communion, what is there for me? What does this togetherness mean - desire, Spirit, and me as a human? Thank you Renee for giving me this opening, so that I may move my heart into a new space💕
The way you describe Desire is as a force--a guiding force always moving "through us" as you say. What grabs my attention most about what you share is the sense of a responsibility we have to Desire "to bring it into the world, whether that is to create a painting or to park on the land of a stranger and enter their home."
I am touched that you are here this week, dear friend.
Your question intrigues me. What is communion? I think in parts - self, others and the world. Communion with the sea in Greece where I left a part of me that was no longer helpful on my journey. Communion with others as I sit with friends this weekend as we continue the journey of grief over the loss of a beloved son, brother, nephew and grandson just under 2 years ago. Self as I sit with questions on writing my book, my work life and my journey as I face an upcoming 60th birthday and anniversary of 40 years in nursing. They are all holy places of hope, trust and love.
Welcome back from Greece, dear friend. Thank you for sharing so here about how communion is living in you: the nurturing, receiving sea in Greece; presence with loved ones on this same journey of grief over exquisite losses; communion with self/Self and especially at this time in your life. May you feel held in the communion of these holy places.
"It is said that this yearning is that which suffered all that is into being; it is the yearning of Being itself. When they say that god so loved the world that he gave, what they are saying is that through the fierce angst that bore through Absolute yearning, Love came to be and from that Love poured through ceaselessly all that is, including you and me. We were born of Desire." It sounds like birthing, right? "..the fierce angst that bore through Absolute yearning.." Now I'm envisioning the Big Bang in that way, with that fierce force behind it; exploding into life; creating everything that is. Love can be tender, but so can it be fierce and unstoppable. When we connect with "strangers" like you describe with Tom and Lynda, it just reaffirms our interconnectedness and our desire to truly see each other as loving beings running through this life together. We see and feel the mystery of that primordial force that binds us. It happens when we drop the ego and meet with the heart. Thanks for sharing that encounter Renée; so sweet and so real. "There is no end to love. We may fall off the cliff we thought sacred, or return one time to find the home we dreamt of burning. But when the rain slows to a slant and the pavement turns cold, that place where I keep you and you and all of you; that place opens like a fist no longer strong enough to stay closed. And the ache returns; that sweet and sudden ache that lets me know I am alive..." Mark Nepo is talking about love of course; "that sweet and sudden ache that lets me know I am alive." Love equals life; and communion is the affirmation of that truth.
I love where you have gone with this: "sounds like birthing, right? . . . envisioning Big Bang in that way. . . ." Indeed, this is what Böhme is referring to: the coming into being of something out of 'nothing', i.e., the Big Bang. He points us to a dynamic force that, if it had the stuff of existence, would look like an involuting spiraling down and through. Imagine a water tunneling into a drain. And through that canal outpours light--the Big Bang??--and just as soon, the force that is Love.
. . . that primordial force that binds us. Yes, within to within, invisible but made visible by gestures of connection and Love.
Thank you for sharing the Nepo poem. I am always breathtaken with the passage: "opens like a fist no longer strong enough to stay closed."
As always, thank you for touching my heart in such profound ways. What came to mind as I read about your time with Lynda, and your cycle of having become feral and then returning to a sense of home, an answer to a yearning, was my own wrestling with an idea that seems prevalent in many ancient myths...the idea of civilizing as progress. I'm thinking of Gilgamesh in particular (though there are many, such as Enuma Elish, with the same premise) where the "order" of civilization defeats the "chaos" of nature. The ordering principle being what the Gods bestowed upon man. There's part of me that has cringed at this interpretation of these myths, seeing it as an ushering in of patriarchal ways. But in reading your words, I can now so clearly see that feral-ness (possibly chaos) and home (possibly order/stability) are not so mutually exclusive. We can bring one into the other with every breath, with every experience, until they do, in fact, become one. The wild, the home, and the yearning that binds them. Thank you so much for this deepening, Renee! And I'm so glad you got a hug from Lynda. That made me smile from my soul. ❤️
You spin this hermeneutic spiral another turn, re: notions of progress "where the 'order' of civilization defeats 'chaos' of nature. The ordering principle being what the Gods bestowed upon man." It is the human that put chaos and order in opposition, but in actuality, one cannot be without the other! Polar complements of one dynamic whole. And so, in this way, Lynda's grouse story holds it all: "the wild, the home, and the yearning that binds them". Your soul smile is like a hug.
Dear Renée, Having only just discovered you in the very last stages of your journey I can’t help but feel sad that you are almost at its end, I have missed your becoming feral and I feel already, a void, perhaps this will be the case for you too?
I understand well the yearning for other, not so much of a home filled with items or the comfort they bring but the warmth of a hug, the face of a loved one, human touch. Unexpected kindnesses from others cause these yearnings to ache, they ache in places we didn’t know we had... I felt the ache in your chest rising when you left Lynda and Tom... but how beautiful to have known this xx
Your words empathic words touch me. I realize in reading you that it might help you all for me to share more about the journey back toward home--as necessary a part of any journey as the journey out to the 'ends of the earth'. So, I thank you for this.
Is there sadness? It is more that I am stirred. Deeply stirred as I reflect on the years journeying these miles back toward home.
And the journey has brought me into depths of intimacy with strangers even as I have lived in depths of solitude. These encounters have given me hope in humanity, which can be hard to come by when we bear witness to the horrors inflicted by humans onto one another. And yes, there is something in me that is now unabashedly feral, wild, like the places I have been, and silent, and the inner work is to care for this. For some reason Rilke's words come to me here: (I'm paraphrasing) Love is two solitudes that border, protect, and care for one another. My sense is that this expression of love toward the wild nascence and silence within is what will border, protect, and care for it to continue to live in the world. . . .
I read your words and utter out loud: "Hmmm." Yes, this "expansive grace of true hospitality" was my experience. It felt divined. Thank you for reading and sharing.
At last I come to read this post that has had a week to sit. Could the week have enhanced the flavors? What a beauty, this. It’s like your words are answering the call of fall, and every inessential thing is gone, leaving only purity of heart in every paragraph. Your poem. Your empathizing and hilarious transition from flies making you their food and home to the dinner invitation with your hosts. The eternal yearning. Communion. Jeepers, you got it all in. What’s left to say? Happy one-year anniversary and happy homing. 🙌❤️
I had my first hug this week in two months, from a friend’s child I’m visiting in Denver. Solo van life can be so physically isolating. That’s the one part that’s hard to get used to.
Liz,
It is great to hear from you and learn that you have migrated now to the Colorado Rockies. I have recently wondered where you might be. And it is good to know that you, too, have been uplifted by a hug--such a small word for such a significant act. May it carry you these next miles.
With love,
Renée
Renee, you write,
”My hope—always—is to offer something that lives in you for a while, evokes the world in ways that shake off the taken-for-granted…”
I dare say you do that for me. Thank you.
This narrative captures a world of humanity which lingers in me.
I’m quieted by what rises from this story, simplicity, kindness as a remedy for that soul longing you name.
Megan,
Thank you for articulating the nuance here in the "world of humanity" of that experience. Some of these encounters I have had will live on in me for a very long time. That strangers welcome me, a stranger to their home; that I go and bed down (in my home) at their home--all of it speaks to a fundamental goodness.
With love,
Renée
Dear Renee, I love this intimate window into the world you have occupied and the precious connections that you are making along the way. A joyful moment to reflect on what has changed for you and within you. A reminder that there is nothing quite like human contact when it is something that has not been available to you. And those darn tissues that never fail to leave their trail! I can only send you a virtual hug, I am with you in spirit 💫🙏
Louise,
It is so good to read your read on this. I can never seem to remember all the pockets that I stuff tissues, especially this time of year!
There was some synchronicity to that touch, as I had just written last week about touch, a few days before encountering Lynda and being as stirred by my response as by the hug.
The circling back toward home is certainly a time of reflection about what has changed, Louise.
Thank you for the virtual hug. I feel it across that great pond.
With love,
Renée
Guess what I found as I just got my washing out of the machine……….the remains of a tissue! I thought of you as I did the ‘fluff shake’ and that this connected us across the miles. Have a wonderful day of joy. Louise x
Louise, connected across the miles through the ‘fluff shake’. Now we’re bonded anew through tissue!
Absolutely Renee!
This is so good.
The yearning that is inside of all of us is something much bigger than our individual self. The conscious desire of Spirit calling our attention, to see what is trying to come through us. Desire is asking us to pause, to allow, and then to do the work to bring it into the world, whether that is to create the painting or to park on the land of a stranger and enter their home.
I will ponder the idea of Communion, what is there for me? What does this togetherness mean - desire, Spirit, and me as a human? Thank you Renee for giving me this opening, so that I may move my heart into a new space💕
Safe travels my friend.
Donna,
The way you describe Desire is as a force--a guiding force always moving "through us" as you say. What grabs my attention most about what you share is the sense of a responsibility we have to Desire "to bring it into the world, whether that is to create a painting or to park on the land of a stranger and enter their home."
I am touched that you are here this week, dear friend.
With love,
Renée
What a beautiful essay! I'm new around here, on your page, and I love your writing style, Renee! 🩷
Monica,
Welcome! I'm so glad you're here! Thank you for your kind words and taking the time to comment. Feel free to chime in any time.
With love,
Renée
Thanks for your answer, Renée! Will be reading more soon.
Monica, thank you.
Your question intrigues me. What is communion? I think in parts - self, others and the world. Communion with the sea in Greece where I left a part of me that was no longer helpful on my journey. Communion with others as I sit with friends this weekend as we continue the journey of grief over the loss of a beloved son, brother, nephew and grandson just under 2 years ago. Self as I sit with questions on writing my book, my work life and my journey as I face an upcoming 60th birthday and anniversary of 40 years in nursing. They are all holy places of hope, trust and love.
Thanks dear Renee.
Dear Erma,
Welcome back from Greece, dear friend. Thank you for sharing so here about how communion is living in you: the nurturing, receiving sea in Greece; presence with loved ones on this same journey of grief over exquisite losses; communion with self/Self and especially at this time in your life. May you feel held in the communion of these holy places.
With love,
Renée
Thank you Renee.
Hi Renee,
If you ever head south and ,contrary to all your recent journeys in the wild, you find yourself in the NYC area, let me know!
Best,
David
David,
In fact, I will be in near your area soon. If it works out, I would love to meet you! email me? reneeeliphd AT gmail.
With love,
Renée
"It is said that this yearning is that which suffered all that is into being; it is the yearning of Being itself. When they say that god so loved the world that he gave, what they are saying is that through the fierce angst that bore through Absolute yearning, Love came to be and from that Love poured through ceaselessly all that is, including you and me. We were born of Desire." It sounds like birthing, right? "..the fierce angst that bore through Absolute yearning.." Now I'm envisioning the Big Bang in that way, with that fierce force behind it; exploding into life; creating everything that is. Love can be tender, but so can it be fierce and unstoppable. When we connect with "strangers" like you describe with Tom and Lynda, it just reaffirms our interconnectedness and our desire to truly see each other as loving beings running through this life together. We see and feel the mystery of that primordial force that binds us. It happens when we drop the ego and meet with the heart. Thanks for sharing that encounter Renée; so sweet and so real. "There is no end to love. We may fall off the cliff we thought sacred, or return one time to find the home we dreamt of burning. But when the rain slows to a slant and the pavement turns cold, that place where I keep you and you and all of you; that place opens like a fist no longer strong enough to stay closed. And the ache returns; that sweet and sudden ache that lets me know I am alive..." Mark Nepo is talking about love of course; "that sweet and sudden ache that lets me know I am alive." Love equals life; and communion is the affirmation of that truth.
Ed,
I love where you have gone with this: "sounds like birthing, right? . . . envisioning Big Bang in that way. . . ." Indeed, this is what Böhme is referring to: the coming into being of something out of 'nothing', i.e., the Big Bang. He points us to a dynamic force that, if it had the stuff of existence, would look like an involuting spiraling down and through. Imagine a water tunneling into a drain. And through that canal outpours light--the Big Bang??--and just as soon, the force that is Love.
. . . that primordial force that binds us. Yes, within to within, invisible but made visible by gestures of connection and Love.
Thank you for sharing the Nepo poem. I am always breathtaken with the passage: "opens like a fist no longer strong enough to stay closed."
With love,
Renée
As always, thank you for touching my heart in such profound ways. What came to mind as I read about your time with Lynda, and your cycle of having become feral and then returning to a sense of home, an answer to a yearning, was my own wrestling with an idea that seems prevalent in many ancient myths...the idea of civilizing as progress. I'm thinking of Gilgamesh in particular (though there are many, such as Enuma Elish, with the same premise) where the "order" of civilization defeats the "chaos" of nature. The ordering principle being what the Gods bestowed upon man. There's part of me that has cringed at this interpretation of these myths, seeing it as an ushering in of patriarchal ways. But in reading your words, I can now so clearly see that feral-ness (possibly chaos) and home (possibly order/stability) are not so mutually exclusive. We can bring one into the other with every breath, with every experience, until they do, in fact, become one. The wild, the home, and the yearning that binds them. Thank you so much for this deepening, Renee! And I'm so glad you got a hug from Lynda. That made me smile from my soul. ❤️
Jenna,
You spin this hermeneutic spiral another turn, re: notions of progress "where the 'order' of civilization defeats 'chaos' of nature. The ordering principle being what the Gods bestowed upon man." It is the human that put chaos and order in opposition, but in actuality, one cannot be without the other! Polar complements of one dynamic whole. And so, in this way, Lynda's grouse story holds it all: "the wild, the home, and the yearning that binds them". Your soul smile is like a hug.
With love,
Renée
Dear Renée, Having only just discovered you in the very last stages of your journey I can’t help but feel sad that you are almost at its end, I have missed your becoming feral and I feel already, a void, perhaps this will be the case for you too?
I understand well the yearning for other, not so much of a home filled with items or the comfort they bring but the warmth of a hug, the face of a loved one, human touch. Unexpected kindnesses from others cause these yearnings to ache, they ache in places we didn’t know we had... I felt the ache in your chest rising when you left Lynda and Tom... but how beautiful to have known this xx
Susie,
Your words empathic words touch me. I realize in reading you that it might help you all for me to share more about the journey back toward home--as necessary a part of any journey as the journey out to the 'ends of the earth'. So, I thank you for this.
Is there sadness? It is more that I am stirred. Deeply stirred as I reflect on the years journeying these miles back toward home.
And the journey has brought me into depths of intimacy with strangers even as I have lived in depths of solitude. These encounters have given me hope in humanity, which can be hard to come by when we bear witness to the horrors inflicted by humans onto one another. And yes, there is something in me that is now unabashedly feral, wild, like the places I have been, and silent, and the inner work is to care for this. For some reason Rilke's words come to me here: (I'm paraphrasing) Love is two solitudes that border, protect, and care for one another. My sense is that this expression of love toward the wild nascence and silence within is what will border, protect, and care for it to continue to live in the world. . . .
Thank you, Susie,
With love,
Renée
This entire passage feels like an embrace. Thank you for communing with us.
Kimberly,
Thank you for sharing this. My communing with you is because you are here. So I thank you!
Truly.
With love,
Renée
Loved this essay. I felt the expansive grace of true hospitality.
Amy,
I read your words and utter out loud: "Hmmm." Yes, this "expansive grace of true hospitality" was my experience. It felt divined. Thank you for reading and sharing.
With love,
Renée
At last I come to read this post that has had a week to sit. Could the week have enhanced the flavors? What a beauty, this. It’s like your words are answering the call of fall, and every inessential thing is gone, leaving only purity of heart in every paragraph. Your poem. Your empathizing and hilarious transition from flies making you their food and home to the dinner invitation with your hosts. The eternal yearning. Communion. Jeepers, you got it all in. What’s left to say? Happy one-year anniversary and happy homing. 🙌❤️
Tara,
Thank you.
(That's all and everything in two words.) 🙏❤️
With love,
Renée