The village

We use the word “resiliency” often in describing our capacity to cope with change, to face reality. Resiliency is mentioned in describing the tools that can help us continually develop and draw from a reserve of mental, physical and spiritual strength.

I tuned in yesterday to a week-long summit on trauma and resiliency with speakers from all over the world. Dr. Peter Levine and Dr. Bessel van der Kolk spoke of somatic practices — movement and song—that can be a tremendous source of healing in the wake of trauma. Dr. David Treleaven described the way trauma “shrinks our window of tolerance” and mindfulness work can be a source of expansive healing. Dr. Ron Siegel talked about the power of relationships to help regulate our nervous system, to help us evolve and grow in response to impermanence.

My children’s first grade school year draws to a close this week and have been reflecting a lot on our village. Just as Dr.Ron Siegel describes—it’s a system of relationships that help regulate and wire us in a whole variety of ways. And as the second week of sabbatical unfolds, I am beginning to understand resiliency from the old growth forest in this way:

The change in temperature from walking on road to the old growth forest is quite noticeable. The concrete generates heat, the light is more blinding, the sound of my feet against the ground a bit sharper. Then, the forest path begins and the coolness wraps around me like a tallit, the air is rich with nutrients, and my feet are cushioned by the carpet of pine needles. In time, the fire of stress on my nervous system is calmed and the coolness of nature’s sanctuary invites me to dwell, time and again.

Perhaps now I will call our village, our pod, our community which has been such a source of blessing, our forest. And yes, we are opening a bottle of champagne (and sparking apple juice) to celebrate the last day of school!

…Your stories are our welcome night sign

Of stop and rest and sky and stars

and forgotten sleep where we wake again

To find we are surrounded, embellished,

Frightened, nourished,

Sheltered, restored, rejected and inhabited

By—how shall I say your name?

Wood, trunk, branch, leaf,

Boreal harmony of green in-breath,

My hands clapping, eyes opened,

Mouth attempting the song

Of your unspeakable gifts and grace

Again and again—the full hidden

Not to be said, mysterious

and utterable name of your full breath. Tree.

-David Whyte, Fire in the Earth