"Wonder and love, we see, are inseparable." I think love is the source of everything; it is the animating force of the universe. I "know" this from an experience I've talked about before here; that love is constantly permeating everything and that energy of love is available to us all the time, but we have to be receptive to it. And perhaps that is where wonder and awe come in. I agree with you Renée that wonder is one of those doorways into the mystery and that love awaits when we are in a state of wonder. I remember reading a passage by Stephen Levine when he was describing what you were saying around the experience of seeing a tree, for example. The mind has such a need to name things to make them familiar to us, perhaps stemming from the ego's need to have control over our world, when in truth we have none. And by naming the tree a "tree" we often miss the experience of being with the tree as another being in our world, and marveling at the fact that it exists at all; and that we have the capacity to connect with this being as another being without words, without labels; just experiencing in wonder, and dare I say love. When I am in a state of wonder and awe, I am one with everything and every being; there is no separation. And when I truly allow myself to surrender to that state, I am also in love with everything and everyone. How could it not be so? I have a new poem by Mark Nepo I recently memorized. I would say that you can substitute light for love in the poem and be changing nothing. "The poplars are reaching for the sun. The taller of the two leans more toward the river than a year ago. I wonder what they can teach me now that I'm leaning more into the world. I keep struggling to be who I am without shutting out others, and to be with others without giving who I am away. Surely this must be doable. To be who we are, anywhere, everywhere. The poplars lean as all plants do toward water and light. But we resist. Overwhelmed or in pain, we turn from the light, and push things away, when it's how there is no end to light that is the teacher. There is something reassuring about the poplars leaning. When in grief, I can't bear all the light, though it's the relentless way that light keeps filling dark places that keeps everything possible."
"The world is by how it is experienced, and that experience is an ever-unfolding flux. In this very moment of that ceaseless unfolding, you and I are the world to one another and every other being. We are the world." Hi Renee. I'm a new subscriber here and love this post on wonder and "affinity for being," so much to ponder, but really, I suppose, so much to live. I'm going to enjoy spending some time with your footnotes and the resources listed there as well! Thank you.
I have read your reflections twice over these last difficult days Renée, and with my heart in many torn unrecognizable pieces it has been an exercise of endurance to reply with any deep understanding.
Wonder has not appeared in any of its extraordinary forms, wonder was taken by the hand of death and temporarily, I hope, fled.
Despite that which has broken me though, despite that for these days of the present, which are after all, the only now I can live much as I find no pleasure in the tristesse of these moments given, love is ever present… Love for my lost loves, left in iridescent mists of memories, all that remains. And thank goodness.. thank goodness.
But now, I flounder, contrary to my own original reflections on wonder and love being companions with an unquestionable surety, here, today I do question whether perhaps, in circumstances beyond the normal, whether in fact one can be present without the other..?
Love without wonder..? Wonder without love?
I send my gratitude for your insightful words nevertheless, with love xx
Thank you Jenna for appreciating my entry and for letting me know. It lets me know that you and others are first of all reading what I write, and being moved as well. I love what you said about the tree experiencing us as well as us experiencing the tree. Sometimes I forget that it works both ways. I see those organisms we call trees as uniquely beautiful and certainly capable on whatever level it exists for them, to feel and connect with our presence.
I so love this letter, Renee! Here, among other things, you've given me the gift to consciously recognize the gaps and, thereby, expand into more and more wonder. Thank you for that! ♥️ In my work with the ancestors, I've come to know that (at least for some, some of the "time") when we die, we do keep seeing through our eyes, and also through the eyes of others, including the still-living, if we choose to. It's one of the reasons the ancestors are so focused on us. They are with us, in us, seeing through our eyes. I feel compelled now to take a journey with them and ask about the ways they perceive the gap. I really love how you brought the idea of the gap into also being a bridge. This really resonates with me. It makes me think of wonder as a sort of initiation. First it creates the gap (the separation) and then it bridges to its own expanded return. That's magnificent! Thank you for all of this, my friend! I can't wait to begin the class with you.
"Wonder and love, we see, are inseparable." I think love is the source of everything; it is the animating force of the universe. I "know" this from an experience I've talked about before here; that love is constantly permeating everything and that energy of love is available to us all the time, but we have to be receptive to it. And perhaps that is where wonder and awe come in. I agree with you Renée that wonder is one of those doorways into the mystery and that love awaits when we are in a state of wonder. I remember reading a passage by Stephen Levine when he was describing what you were saying around the experience of seeing a tree, for example. The mind has such a need to name things to make them familiar to us, perhaps stemming from the ego's need to have control over our world, when in truth we have none. And by naming the tree a "tree" we often miss the experience of being with the tree as another being in our world, and marveling at the fact that it exists at all; and that we have the capacity to connect with this being as another being without words, without labels; just experiencing in wonder, and dare I say love. When I am in a state of wonder and awe, I am one with everything and every being; there is no separation. And when I truly allow myself to surrender to that state, I am also in love with everything and everyone. How could it not be so? I have a new poem by Mark Nepo I recently memorized. I would say that you can substitute light for love in the poem and be changing nothing. "The poplars are reaching for the sun. The taller of the two leans more toward the river than a year ago. I wonder what they can teach me now that I'm leaning more into the world. I keep struggling to be who I am without shutting out others, and to be with others without giving who I am away. Surely this must be doable. To be who we are, anywhere, everywhere. The poplars lean as all plants do toward water and light. But we resist. Overwhelmed or in pain, we turn from the light, and push things away, when it's how there is no end to light that is the teacher. There is something reassuring about the poplars leaning. When in grief, I can't bear all the light, though it's the relentless way that light keeps filling dark places that keeps everything possible."
"The world is by how it is experienced, and that experience is an ever-unfolding flux. In this very moment of that ceaseless unfolding, you and I are the world to one another and every other being. We are the world." Hi Renee. I'm a new subscriber here and love this post on wonder and "affinity for being," so much to ponder, but really, I suppose, so much to live. I'm going to enjoy spending some time with your footnotes and the resources listed there as well! Thank you.
I have read your reflections twice over these last difficult days Renée, and with my heart in many torn unrecognizable pieces it has been an exercise of endurance to reply with any deep understanding.
Wonder has not appeared in any of its extraordinary forms, wonder was taken by the hand of death and temporarily, I hope, fled.
Despite that which has broken me though, despite that for these days of the present, which are after all, the only now I can live much as I find no pleasure in the tristesse of these moments given, love is ever present… Love for my lost loves, left in iridescent mists of memories, all that remains. And thank goodness.. thank goodness.
But now, I flounder, contrary to my own original reflections on wonder and love being companions with an unquestionable surety, here, today I do question whether perhaps, in circumstances beyond the normal, whether in fact one can be present without the other..?
Love without wonder..? Wonder without love?
I send my gratitude for your insightful words nevertheless, with love xx
Thank you Jenna for appreciating my entry and for letting me know. It lets me know that you and others are first of all reading what I write, and being moved as well. I love what you said about the tree experiencing us as well as us experiencing the tree. Sometimes I forget that it works both ways. I see those organisms we call trees as uniquely beautiful and certainly capable on whatever level it exists for them, to feel and connect with our presence.
I so love this letter, Renee! Here, among other things, you've given me the gift to consciously recognize the gaps and, thereby, expand into more and more wonder. Thank you for that! ♥️ In my work with the ancestors, I've come to know that (at least for some, some of the "time") when we die, we do keep seeing through our eyes, and also through the eyes of others, including the still-living, if we choose to. It's one of the reasons the ancestors are so focused on us. They are with us, in us, seeing through our eyes. I feel compelled now to take a journey with them and ask about the ways they perceive the gap. I really love how you brought the idea of the gap into also being a bridge. This really resonates with me. It makes me think of wonder as a sort of initiation. First it creates the gap (the separation) and then it bridges to its own expanded return. That's magnificent! Thank you for all of this, my friend! I can't wait to begin the class with you.