Lost in the Wild
Table Talk
Setting the Table
Welcome yourself to this place and time. Place your feet squarely on the ground and notice how you are supported by the earth beneath you. If it feels ok, try lengthening your spine a bit as you take a few slow breaths in and out. Perhaps take a moment to place your hands on your heart and notice the energy.
Recall for a moment a time when you were captured by the experience of being outdoors — the colors and textures, the scents and sights, the temperature and sounds, maybe even the flavors of that moment.
Awakening to citizenship in the broader commonwealth (the wider, more-than-human community of beings) has real ramifications for how we humans get along with one another. It carries substantial consequences…for the way that our body politic breathes.
— David Abram in Becoming Animal
Psalm 19: 3-4
There is no speech, nor are there words;
their voice is not heard;
yet their voice goes out through all
the earth,
and their words to the end of the world.
Food for Thought
When I’m over-activated by challenges of work and the world, I ditch my phone and head to the same spot in the woods I’ve gone to several times each week for months. It has become comfortably familiar to me. There’s a patch of velvety moss beneath a hickory tree I often feel to bring a sense of calm. There’s an oak sapling whose top was snapped off, but has sprouted new branches. There’s a spongy fallen log teeming with decomposers of all kinds. Occasionally the snapping turtle on patrol in the adjacent pond will peer at me with only coal-beaded eyes and nostrils above the surface of the mire. And sometimes I spot a beaver munching on alder branches or a great blue heron contorting herself into a tree pose on one leg.
Though it feels that we are all rather acquainted with one another now, I still pause and ask permission to hang out in that space. It is important for me to remember that there, I am a guest. That, in that space, my role is only to be — to pay attention and to listen — not so much for words, but for the language beneath human words that invites me in. It is a holy space. A space where I encounter the divine in ways that I do not find elsewhere. There is a sense of intimacy, connectedness, and a striking sense of reciprocity — a give and take of experience and emotion, sometimes of joy or wonder, but also at times a sense of grief and sorrow.
Often, I sense the trees snickering, not at me, but with me at all that is of this world. They pull off the Southern expression, “Bless your heart,” better than any human I’ve encountered. There are times I’ve shared my thoughts, my struggles, my pain. But mostly I experience a stream of gratitude that comes from my heart to the woodland community and back again.
The wilderness offers honest companionship. A sense that we are there for and with one another — to meet one another and accompany one another from one encounter to the next, unconditionally. The buds come regardless of the economic news. The fiddleheads open in the dappled sun no matter what somebody said to somebody else. The ants pursue their dogged purposes over and under and over leaf duff. This is a framing for my head and heart and soul like no other.
When I am finished, I pour some water as a gift to the earth, or sprinkle a few sunflower seeds from my pocket, and I walk on toward all that awaits me. And I am changed. It’s like my spirit has been brushed by these companions, flaking off some of the plaque of human hubris and conflict. I’m not Pollyanna about the natural realities of tooth and claw. It’s just that this community reminds me to stay in my lane, it grounds me in my place, and cautions me to do what is mine – to not get caught up in business that is too much my own agenda.
This is the soul-full gift I have found in allowing myself to get lost in the wild — to open myself to the wisdom of creation. To “hear” the shift of awareness while noticing splotches of light and heat on the forest floor. To notice my tears at the occasion of a bed of gentian violets. This is the language this woodland community has taught me to feel – to “speak” much more in my body. In turn, I have become more attuned to my own living, to my own interconnectedness with creation, and to the ways the world around me can nourish my soul, offering life-giving wisdom. How might you find the wisdom of creation speaking to your life this season?
There are many places now offering forest therapy or forest bathing walks with invitations to notice and then come back together with a group to share your experiences. You might check if there are such opportunities in your local community, or simply find some friends and give it a try.
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For a printable version of today's reflection Click Here!
Blessing
Generous God,
Awaken my senses to the pulsing of your Word in the more-than-human world, in the whispers of life and bonds around me, to bring renewed resources to my joys and dilemmas.
Amen.
A little Table Talk for your table...
Open a discussion with your community about knowing holy goodness and wisdom through other beings. Often, we can most access that wisdom through experiences with our pets, or plants in our garden, or birds at the feeder. How have you experienced holy goodness and wisdom through other-than-human creation?
With whom in your life might you gather for a short walk to support each other in noticing the tiniest things on the land? At the end of the walk, you might set a table with beverages and snacks and talk about the experience.
Complete this sentence in a way that is authentic to you: A magical place in my childhood, or other time in my life was…
Try taking it to the Kids Table...
In the yard or a park, encourage your kiddos to search for something from the natural world that doesn’t require pulling or cutting and bring it back to talk about why they chose that particular thing. They might even make up a little story about what they brought.
Go for a walk. I suggest walking slowly for five minutes in silence, noticing the movement on the land, the sounds, the awareness of changes in breeze or temperature. After five minutes, talk about any new discoveries.
Curiosity, intuition, and imagination often lead us into greater awareness, playfulness, and renewal. What have your kiddos learned about nature in recent weeks?
Meet our Welcoming Voice!
Rev. Craig Schaub enjoys time with plants, hiking, biking, and sitting in the woods. He is a minister at Parkway United Church of Christ in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, and is committed to community organizing, food justice, climate resilience, and anti-racism work. Craig is married and has an adult daughter.
To hear more from Rev. Craig throughout the week, follow along on our Instagram!
Here are Five Things to Remember When Setting Your Own Welcome Table!