Seeing Relationships, Part 2
Essay #10
In the last essay, I quoted Thomas Berry who said “The world is a communion of subjects, not a collection of objects.” We focused on seeing in terms of relationships rather than objects. One of Berry’s frequent collaborators was scientist Brian Swimme. They brought together the worlds of astronomy, physics, biology, anthropology, and theology, and created a new story of the development and evolution of the universe, the earth, and humanity.
According to Swimme, “the ultimate aim of the Universe is a fullness of differentiation, the deepest subjectivity, and the most intimate communion.” In other words, the universe thrives on diversity, the innate potential of each creature, and the web of relationships between all.
In this essay, I’m going to focus on what it means to be “kin” and what it means to be “othered” and the importance of reciprocity.
What is kinship?
I’ve thought a lot about this word and who I consider to be kin since reading the work of Robin Wall Kimmerer in her book, Braiding Sweetgrass. Mostly, kin is considered as the relationships we have with family, and even close friends. They are people we feel strongly connected to, through blood or commonalities, and who we treat with love, kindness, and respect.
Kimmerer argues that all of the many living and non-living beings that we share our lives with could and should be considered kin. These include the plants and animals, trees and forests, rocks and water, sun and wind and rain. But, how do we go about developing this feeling of kinship with these others?
Lyanda Lynn Haupt suggests in Rooted to look at what we have in common with other species. First and foremost, we share space. Most animal species breathe, eat, grow, and mate just like humans do. Everything has its own sense of aliveness, albeit different from our own. So, kin takes on new meaning within a place.
You may have had the experience of a caring, kin relationship with a family pet. It’s different from a human relationship, but deep nonetheless. We communicate in different ways. Why wouldn’t it be possible to have a caring relationship or at least a connection with other non-human beings who share our space and place? But, before we go on, I want to segue into what happens when we don’t think of others as kin.
Othering
We live in a world of difference. There are millions of species of plants and animals, as well as 8 billion human beings of different colors, ethnicities, cultures, and beliefs. Every one of those plants and animals and humans is different. How glorious is that?
This diversity is necessary for life to thrive. When it comes to the natural world, this article from the Guardian says that “biodiversity is the most complex feature of our planet and the most vital.” The air we breathe, the water we drink, and the food we eat all rely on biodiversity. When a system gets out of balance, diversity suffers, and so life suffers too. If we want life to continue and to thrive, we have to take diversity seriously.
What is diversity? Merriam-Webster defines it as “the condition of having or being composed of differing elements; variety, such as the inclusion of different types of people (races or cultures) in a group or organization.”
Synonyms include: contrast, difference, disagreement, discrepancy, disparateness, disparity, dissimilarity, dissimilitude, distance, distinction, distinctiveness, distinctness, diverseness, otherness, unlikeness. Notice all of the dis’s in there. Dis is a Latin prefix literally meaning apart, asunder, away, utterly, or having a privative, negative, or reversing force.
This is a natural, human feeling, to feel apart from or separate from nature, even other people. Yet, we all live on this earth and we are when in fact an integral part of the whole. We are embedded. Everything that happens changes us in some way. We too affect everything else just by our presence. We are the earth and we are all kin.
Yes, we are all different but problems arise when we create an “other” and deem them less worthy. This other could be the natural world or a person who we feel is very different from us.
“But who is this Other? By Other, I am referring to that which is in some way different from ourselves and so provides an opportunity for relating. Forms of discrimination ultimately lack awareness of the qualitative differences, the qualities of the Other. Rather, the Other is often sized up and quantified, objectified, and made distant. We just do not see the other clearly, missing the distinctions and differences that show us what is possible for a life. Most fundamentally, difference is a manifestation of potential, the many spices of life displayed for us, reminding us of our own potential. This is a fundamental recognition of relatedness. But without a more relational perspective, we rarely recognize such patterns and their lessons.” ~ Laura Sewall, Sight and Sensibility
I felt that it was important to include that entire quote. Sewall calls difference a “manifestation of potential” and an “opportunity for relating.” I want to live in a world where everyone and everything can manifest its potential and where relationships are valued.
The Greater Good Magazine says that diversity can be a uniting force for good. Their research suggests that diversity drives cultural, economic, and social vitality and innovation and that intolerance of diversity hurts our well-being and ability to thrive. So, why do we create these hierarchies of value? Why do we economically and socially exploit some over others?
Who or what do you think of as “other” and why? Try to expand your sources of knowledge by reading books, watching movies, or listening to podcasts by diverse voices. Spend time in the natural world and see how other species live their lives in the same spaces as you. Practice experiencing everything as kin.
How diverse is your world? How can you contribute to increasing diversity?
Start with the place where you live; notice where diversity is lacking, whether with people, species, or culture. Get to know the birds, animals, trees, and plants of your area.
Language
“To be native to a place, we must learn to speak its language.” ~ Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass
We humans communicate mainly through spoken language, but also through touch and taste, smells, and gestures. These are different forms of language. According to Kimmerer, one powerful way to develop kinship with other species is by learning how they communicate and noticing how we speak about them.
Kimmerer comes from the Potawatomi lineage, and their language and culture reflects a democracy of species, rather than a hierarchy. In this world, everything is alive and has its own rights, including rocks and water, stories and music. Indigenous languages often have more verbs than nouns. Verbs reflect the aliveness and evolving nature of other beings.
On the other hand, western culture is based on a hierarchy of beings, with humans at the top of the chain. The English language (predominantly noun-based) reflects this culture, where humans are addressed as masculine or feminine subjects, while non-human living beings are addressed as objects, often as “it.”
In her book, Dwellings, Linda Hogan writes that other ways of communicating beyond spoken language can often be “more honest, more comprehensible, than the words we utter.” She says that when it comes to a language that can bridge species, it needs to be one of respect, care, and reverence for life.
Reverence holds all things and beings (including ourselves) as worthy. It brings an aspect of humility and equanimity to relationships. If we approached everything and everyone as worthy of respect, having a right to be here, and having something to teach, we’d realize how deeply connected and interdependent we all are.
To approach another human being with reverence means that we respect that they’re living their own life and so we listen to them with a desire to understand their point of view. We approach conflict with curiosity and a view of what’s best for all, not just for ourselves.
You can also practice treating yourself with reverence by taking the time to replenish and nourish your mind, body, and spirit. When you take care of yourself, you’re better able to respond to the needs of others and you’ll inspire others to do the same.
To approach the natural world with reverence means to pay attention to the lives of other species. Acknowledge that they are alive and speak their own language through sound or gesture. Practice speaking of other species as subjects rather than objects. Say someone, not something, or they instead of it. Say hello. Or, just sit in silence and listen.
To act with reverence towards the natural world means being much more careful, much less extractive. Don’t blow up mountains for coal, or overfish, or destroy the soil. To eat food with reverence means becoming aware of where it comes from – all of the people and resources it took to get it to the table. To act with reverence is to realize how dependent we are on others and to become more aware of the effects of our actions in the world, to see what is hurting.
Nurturing healthy and fulfilling relationships with others involves a combination of communication, empathy, and effort. It’s an ongoing process that requires effort and commitment from all parties. Reflect on your most important relationships and what you bring to them. Practice deepening your conversations, including those with the non-human world. Listen more.
Over the past few years of staying close to home, I’ve begun to see the animals and plants and birds in my yard and neighborhood as kin. I’ve paid attention to their daily habits and how they respond to me. I even feel a closeness with the lake and the creeks and the rock of my place. They are a part of me and I am a part of them. We coexist in a reciprocal relationship, even though we don’t speak the same language.
Reciprocity
You know how good it feels to receive a special, handpicked gift from a friend, one with no strings attached. You don’t feel obligated to give something in return; instead you gratefully receive the offering. You feel seen and cherished. The giver also receives something, most likely a feeling of generosity and care, through the look of delight on your face. At another point in time, you will probably care for them in a similar way. What goes around comes around. This is reciprocity.
All good kin relationships have reciprocity at their heart - some kind of mutual exchange, give and take, or a recognition of interdependence.
We could learn a thing or two about reciprocity from the way the natural world operates. Robin Wall Kimmerer shows example after example in her book, Braiding Sweetgrass.
Bees and flowers have a relationship where each benefits in some way from the other. Flowers provide nectar and pollen for the bees, while bees help flowers reproduce by spreading pollen between them, which produces seeds. This is called “biological mutualism” and it benefits humans and other living organisms as well. We need plant life to live and they need us.
Human digestive systems contain “good” bacteria, which feeds on foods that we don’t digest easily. This helps both stay healthy and alive.
Spider crabs have algae on their backs, which provides camouflage to avoid predators. The algae benefits by having a place to live.
“You can’t know reciprocity until you know the gift.” ~ Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass
To me, trees are the ultimate teachers of reciprocity through their generosity, stability, and perseverance. They’re a vital part of the ecosystem and always give generously. Patricia, the botanist in The Overstory, says “a dead tree is an infinite hotel.“ She views trees as “intricate, reciprocal nations of tied together life that she has listened to all life long.” (via Mitchell Thomashow, To Know the World)
Humans and other species have a relationship with trees of mutualism. While rooted in one place, a tree takes in carbon dioxide and releases oxygen, while humans and other species take in oxygen and release carbon dioxide. A tree offers many other gifts as well; they provide beauty, shade, protection, and sometimes food (fruits, nuts, seeds, oils). They’re a resting place for birds and squirrels, and a home for small animals and insects. They act as a noise barrier and their roots keep the ground stable. Even after they die, a decaying log provides nutrients. They just keep on giving and we simply cannot live without them. What we do to trees affects the water, air, other species and us.
Do you recognize the unearned gifts you receive daily from your place? Stop and linger, noticing what you’re receiving, unearned, at this moment. Look for nuances, subtleties, like a warm wind on your face. What resources of care do you rely upon in your place?
Next to consider is how you give back for these gifts, beginning with simple gratitude. More ways to offer thanks include through rituals, traditions, ceremonies, or celebrations. For example, in my place, we have monthly festivals to honor and give thanks for the fruit harvest.
Beyond saying thank you, reciprocity also means sometimes taking action, or offering your own care or gifts in return. In an article in Emergence Magazine, Kimmerer describes the gifts of serviceberries, a plant that gives abundantly where she lives. The berries are beloved for their tastiness and medicinal value, as well as their beautiful white flowers in early spring. She asks,
“What could I give these plants in return for their generosity? It could be a direct response, like weeding or water or a song of thanks that sends appreciation out on the wind. Or indirect, like donating to my local land trust so that more habitat for the gift givers will be saved, or making art that invites others into the web of reciprocity.”
In Braiding Sweetgrass, Kimmerer describes the Three Sisters Garden (Indigenous origins), made up of corn, beans, and squash. Beans offer the gift of protein. They take nitrogen from the air and turn it into nutrients. Corn offers starch. But neither beans nor corn have the vitamins provided by squash. Each thrives when planted alongside the others. Also, they’re less susceptible to pest outbreaks. The Three Sisters Garden teaches the importance of sharing our gifts and supporting each other.
Other ways to give back include showing restraint, taking only what you need, doing as little harm as possible, or refusing to participate in harmful activities. If harm has already been done in a relationship, there are two actions you can take, to restore and repair.
The first step, to restore, is to acknowledge the harm and stop it. Nature, especially, is very adept at returning to balance all on its own. In Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer says that when she is asked the best way to restore the relationship between land and people, she always says “plant a garden.” Most people can do this and it benefits all.
If acknowledging and stopping the harm is not enough, you may need to fix or repair what is broken, including making amends. In an ecological community, active repair could be planting native trees or removing invasive species. Or, you could create wildlife corridors.
In a human relationship or community, repair might involve a formal apology and some kind of compensation. For example, in many places, reconciliation for Indigenous communities involves acknowledging and apologizing for past harms, providing financial reparations, and giving land back.
How do you and the citizens of your place make amends for past harms, especially with regards to marginalized communities? Can you name restoration and repair projects in your place? Which ones need to happen? Which organizations that support restoration and repair do you or can you support? If you haven’t already, plant a garden (or a tree).
Read: Ireland, a Land of Reciprocity
Conclusion
“We see quite clearly that what happens to the nonhuman, happens to the human. What happens to the outer world, happens to the inner world.” ~ Thomas Berry, The Great Work
I want to conclude here with a story relayed by Gary Ferguson in his book, The Eight Master Lessons of Nature. It’s about a religious group called The Latitudinarians, which I’ll summarize below.
During the 1600’s and through the mid 1700’s, a movement grew within certain Protestant churches of England, based on the notion that humans are naturally generous and relational, as opposed to being intrinsically flawed. This group spread a message of gaining freedom through caring, tenderness, and charity towards all of their fellow creatures.
The Latitudinarians argued that this generous impulse was powerful and our best chance at happiness. A person who is kind to others tends to be more kind to themselves, leaving them more confident in cultivating their own unique talents. Such a community takes from what is abundant and gives to that which is in need. Living in this way enables us to feel the harmony, balance, and rhythm at the core of life.
This seems to me to be the epitome of kinship.
I don’t doubt that you are a caring, generous person. But, for myself, I know I can always do better. I’ve realized that in any given situation, I have several choices in how to respond. I can ignore what’s happening and not respond at all; I can respond with only what’s necessary, or I can respond generously, giving more than necessary. Here’s an example.
Someone reached out to me (and a few others) for a potential collaboration. They gave me permission not to respond, and said that if I didn’t answer, they wouldn’t contact me again. That was a generous gesture on their part. I thought about the request and decided it wasn’t something I was interested in doing at this time. I had quite enough on my plate already.
It’s not in my nature not to respond at all, so the next possibility would have been to say thanks but no thanks, with a short explanation. This would certainly be sufficient and respectful. Instead, I asked myself what a generous response would look like. I thought about how brave it was for her to reach out and how honored I felt that she did. So, I responded by telling her that and wishing her luck with her project. She wrote back, literally saying “thank you for the generous response.
To respond generously means you consider the other’s perspective and what they might need from the encounter. You recognize that what you think is right may not be what they think is right.
Life is made up of relationships and healthy relationships depend on reciprocity. How do we create a culture of reciprocity? If we live from a place of gratitude, where everything is a gift, then reciprocity will naturally follow. Kimmerer says it well, ”Whatever our gift, we are called to give it and to dance for the renewal of the world. In return for the privilege of breath.”
Seeing relationally begins with an appreciation of others and how we shape and are shaped by them; how we are all interdependent. In the next essay, we’ll explore interdependence within systems.