Sometimes being transplanted is a necessary part of a plant’s story (and our own). But more often, the call is to *stay*—to root down—right where we are, imperfect as it is. It is the call monks have answered throughout the centuries, to “stability”. To staying. Even when there is some aspect of the life in community that is not what they had hoped, or is even quite uncomfortable. The invitation is to let roots sink deeper, discover new nourishment and water to quench our thirst in the hidden depths (most of us are not monks, and yet their calls to stability, simplicity, etc. can speak volumes into our own daily lives and values!). Consider the communit(ies) you are rooted in right now. Your neighborhood or town, family or friends, perhaps church or another spiritual community… How have those been nourishing spaces for you, your roots in proximity to others—communicating underground like communities of trees and their networks of roots and fungi (and even in biochemical changes that have been shown to signal to each other danger nearby!)? Where do your roots feel intertwined with the people around you (whether you judge that to be a desirable thing or not)? How has that been good, or difficult—or both—in your experience? Where are you aware of needing to sink deeper into dark earth (where the roots of others are perhaps less entangled), especially as we are in the season for perennials to do just that—sending roots deeper and wider, growing more than they will any other time of year, soaking up all and storing all that they will need for the coming winter and the “next” of spring? If you have had a sense of needing to be uprooted and transplanted—or have found yourself there, whether you wanted to or not—what is it like to now consider rooting down into the new space and community? To lean into stability and rootedness and connectedness, even if it is difficult to establish? What is one movement your roots could make in this, their growing season?
Posted by Jamie Bonilla at 2023-09-15 14:31:35 UTC