Image Description: A tree with roots partially in view. A green, leafy forest is in the background.
Each of us is unique and particular, distinct and differentiated, yes (and these are great gifts)
But in every moment, each person is a We.
Every single one of us is a Collective — we are Plural not only in a myriad of thoughts, feelings, memories, and impulses, each as plentiful and contradictory as the next —
but also
We represent internalized others. We are a nexus of relationships, embodied.
Who is always rooted in Whose.
Whose — not possession or ownership. not fate or determinism.
Image Description: Four trees with bright orange leaves.
I had a total geekout about these trees.
When I walked out of the gym, I just stood there, stunned that so many gorgeous fall leaves were present in one place.
Beyond the worthy geekout, however, these trees also remind me of something. I think they’re a valuable symbol, especially if we feel fatigued or on edge during this season.
Every autumn, trees reveal their vibrant colors when their energy is shifted toward their roots.
All spring and summer, leaves gather energy for sustenance and growth through their photosynthesis process. When the autumn begins, leaves don’t really turn red, orange, yellow, and brown. They are revealed to be red, orange, yellow, and brown. In preparation for winter, deciduous trees stop their photosynthesis process. As a result, the accompanying color of green recedes, and we see the revealed colors of these leaves. This process prepares for the winter season in which roots can continue to thrive and grow.
When we see the vibrant colors of autumn, we might also make analogies and ponder our own rooting process.
As we think about the present moment we’re living, and the future we want to live,
What forms of energy do we need to shed? What forms of energy do we need to pursue?
To what and to whom are we rooted? With what and with whom are we connected?
How can a sense of groundedness reveal beauty? How can rootedness help us see the worth and value of the people around us.
During autumn, when we see the trees (and potentially, have a geekout) perhaps we can ponder these kinds of questions. As I watch trees make these changes, I like to imagine that their energy and focus is moving into the ground — into the most foundational parts of being — and I find myself wanting to do the same.
What do we need to bring inside ourselves toward the most foundational parts of ourselves?
Image Description: A sunset with hues of orange, pink, and deep purple amidst trees. Photo, Renee Roederer.
It’s the one year anniversary of this story, so I thought I’d share it again — Ha!
I was finishing up my daily walk as the sun was setting, and I snapped some beautiful photos with deep purple in the sky. Ahhh… So nice.
And I saw a bat. Ooh, cool!
Then another. Then more. Then lots.
And I ended up running out of the woods (and laughing at myself running) because too many bats were flying near me. It was a funny scene. I screamed once. I chuckled. But mostly, my heart was racing.
They kept swooping down near me for bugs. Don’t do that!
Once I got out of the woods, I also laughed imagining the scenario that I’ve been this cautious about COVID only to get rabies.
“Renee was the most disciplined person we knew about not getting COVID, but sadly, she got rabies, refused water, and died.”
Image Description: A person is holding seeds in their hand and planting them in a row in the soil. Public domain image.
Today, I’d like to share a poem I wrote. It was commissioned by Northminister Presbyterian Church in Endwell, New York. It is based on Matthew 8:31-38.
Seeds He speaks to us in parables: Very truly, I say to you, Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.
At once, we easily feel the weight of this, the fear of this, the loss, the decay, the bereavement.
Yet the very one acquainted with all of these in his body, knows his Body —
the Community, the Family, the Kin-dom that we are.
We are the fruits of his love laid down. We are the fruits of his love lived forward. He speaks…
There’s a plant in the Sahara Desert that can regenerate itself long after it has died. As much as 100 years later.
I recently watched this video in total amazement.
And it makes me wonder what could still be possible — what could still take shape among us too — we who are still living, we who can choose, and we who can become utterly surprised when the unthinkable and the seemingly impossible presents itself.
Image Description: A murmuration of starlings in the air. The sky is a light orange color. There are bare trees with no leaves beneath the murmuration. This image was taken from the Geograph project collection. See this photograph’s page on the Geograph website for the photographer’s contact details. The copyright on this image is owned by Walter Baxter and is licensed for reuse under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 license.
“Starlings’ murmuration consists of a flock moving in synch with one another, engaging in clear, consistent communication and exhibiting collective leadership and deep, deep trust. Every individual bird focuses attention on their seven closest neighbors and thus manage a large flock cohesiveness and synchronicity (at times upwards of over a million birds).”
-Sierra Pickett
“My dream is a movement with such deep trust that we move as a murmuration, the way groups of starlings billow, dive, spin, dance collectively through the air — to avoid predators, and, it also seems, to pass time in the most beautiful way possible. When fish move in this way, they are shoaling. When bees and other insects move in this way, they are swarming. I love all the words for this activity.
“Here’s how it works in a murmuration/shoal/swarm: each creature is tuned in to its neighbors, the creatures right around it in the formation. This might be the birds on either side, or the six fish in each direction. There is a right relationship, a right distance between them — too close and they crash, too far away and they can’t feel the micro-adaptations of the other bodies. Each creature is shifting direction, speed, and proximity based on the information of other creatures’ bodies.
There is a deep trust in this: to lift because the birds around you are lifting, to live based on your collective real-time adaptations. In this way thousands of birds or fish or bees can move together, each empowered with the basic rules and a vision to live. Imagine our movements cultivating this type of trust and depth with each other, having strategic flocking in our playbooks.”
Image Description: Within a blue and white, splotchy background, the quote reads, “Trauma comes back as a reaction, NOT A MEMORY.” — Bessel Van Der Kolk
Fight, Flight, Freeze, Fawn, Dissociation, Depression, Anxiety, Numbness, Overwhelm, People-Pleasing, Overwork, Somatization, Hypervigilance, Avoidance, Insomnia, Inability to get out of bed, Difficulty being with others, Difficulty being alone,
Image Description: A group of lambs. Some are eating grass. Some are looking around. Public domain image.
If you’re feeling stressed in any way, I just want you to know about this thing that happens. I want you to imagine it and smile.
I have a friend who lives on a farm where they raise sheep. And every night before sunset, all of this year’s lambs, who are now functionally tweens, get together in a little tweeny bopper gang and run around the farm en masse. It’s a thing they do.
As they near dusk, they just get the urge to be with their peers and exert their energy in a collective romp around all the grounds of the farm. A little gang. Of tweeny bopper sheep. Running around together. In the joy of adolescence.
I just want you to know about these tweeny bopper sheep. I want you to know that this happens every day.
Image Description: A bee collecting nectar from a pink flower.
Bees bumble from flower to flower, using the navigation of bright colors to bring them to life-giving nectar. They collect it and covert it to honey to care for their young, and by extension, the whole hive.
But they have no idea about something else. . .
They have no idea they are pollinating the world’s food supply.
It helps me to remember that. The lives of bees are already so intricate and complex even in what they do intend, but beyond that, their work yields more life and complexity than they know.
Maybe this can remind us:
Individually, and especially collectively, our best intentions, our best connections, our best work, our best loves, and our best visions may yield more life and complexity than we know too.
Image Description: A sunset with hues of orange, pink, and deep purple amidst trees.
Smuggling Grace 