Author: Hans Asfeldt

Inspired by Vivienne Simon’s essay, “Fostering Light in Dark Times.”

It is surely a leap of faith that mobilizes paralysis induced by the intellectual awareness of destruction and its inevitability. We might perhaps meander the paths of life without taking such a leap, but is the stark nature of pain and loss not such that we are incapable of fully investing our energy elsewhere without first confronting the immediate reality? Beyond embracing ignorance or yielding to despair, we yearn to be satisfied by some deconstruction of undeniable truths.

This thirst is borne of the soul’s unrest at the mind’s conclusions. The identification of this relationship is critical in evading a frustration that might otherwise consume and incapacitate.

Destruction as reality is not irrational, rather, it is spiritually challenging. The key recognition is that of the spiritual nature of a struggle. Intellect is incapable as a primary instrument in a search for meaning. So long as we demand a rational explanation capable of dissolving spiritual unrest, we will remain unsatisfied.

Specifically, the required leap of faith is one that pushes argument to its limits, but no further, and engages spiritual struggle where rational conclusions or limitations cause unrest.

Into what, then, does one leap when rational thought is exhausted and the soul, unsatisfied? Curious indeed, that we should jump knowing only what we seek but not where we might find it.

But the soul tastes refuge, just as the feet leave the ground. It is here that life is worth living, even as destruction continues.

– Hans

“Indigenous” so often carries connotations applied to it by invasive forces. The notion that to be indigenous is at its root a harmonious quality and that it is, in fact, a quality innate to each of us is indeed refreshing. As Kaylynn Twotrees suggests in her essay, “Indigenous Mind”, it is a notion that lends itself to the unity of all people. At the most basic level, we are all sustained by the same sources of life— land, air, water and as many would hold, the Creator of those gifts.

With the understanding that none stand apart from another, there is hope that we might seek to revive our awareness of, and gratitude for, the Earth and all that sustains us. Without this philosophy, environmental decline and social conflict replace sustainable living and healthy community.

Only a rich philosophy learned by experience and strengthened by action is meaningful and real. Twotrees’ experience of nature exemplifies this idea. She calls this philosophy one of “indigenous mind”. As she makes herself present in her surroundings, she learns the essence of nature in a way that leads her to strong convictions. It seems that her experience could be no different. She had only to create a space in her mind and soul and the rest followed naturally.

Recognizing the inseparability of nature and humankind is integral to the development of a responsible land ethic. If it is true that each of us has an indigenous mind, we have but to allow ourselves the opportunity to cultivate a certain intimacy with Creation. Certainly community can encourage these opportunities.

Speaking from my own spiritual journey, the land is one element through which we can foster a spiritual relationship with the Creator. For others, there is a spiritual relationship with the land itself. This spiritual facet of our relationship with the land is important, but there is a risk, especially through poetry and prose, that the connection is reduced to feelings and experiences, flaunted by imagery and aesthetic language. Both experiences and the expression of them are of course significant and valuable, but they are feeble and dangerous in the absence of concrete thought and action. If an experience is real and not crafted, it will inevitably become influential in one’s life and redefine one’s very person. It is precisely when the expression of experience no longer reflects tangible transformation that we should be wary. Thus, one must live and breathe a philosophy inspired by Creation, and realized by stewardship.

– Hans

Reflection is an interesting phenomenon. One might say it is the pursuit of insight.

Insight is neither planned nor expected. It ebbs quietly like the tide; we sit in the sand as the odd reach of water licks our feet, teasing us and leaving only dry salt between our toes. Watching the horizon with intent, the expanse seems eternal and by a desire to see more, we will it to change. But who can change the ocean? Precisely in the moment when our yearning seems to fail us, we are caught by a crashing wave that pulls us into the very essence of the tides, where we are thrown about by the currents before being washed up on shore to bask in the sun. The expanse has not changed, but again we peer at the horizon— this time from a different spot on the beach.

It is curious, but I have little to say about our reading today. Perhaps my view of the horizon is obstructed by my preoccupations right here on the edge of the water. It is sometimes enough, however, to steward the stretch of sand that lies right before us.

Hans