Terry Tempest Williams – Feminism and Religion

Smoke by Beth Bartlett

Perhaps we all are standing on the borderlands – left standing in the debris of our consumptive and violent past, walking toward a future we cannot see but can feel in every cell of our bodies as this global fever is creating a world on fire that is reaching each one of us. How do we find our way home? What will it take to change us and, in so doing, change society?

-Terry Tempest Williams

We awoke Wednesday morning to thick, thick smoke. It looked like the more typical fog that often engulfs us in the early morning, but the faint whiff of smoke even inside with windows closed was unmistakable. One step outside and the smoke was overwhelming – like sitting next to a large campfire with the wind blowing the smoke in my direction. As I was starting to cough, I put the baby in his highchair and headed to the basement to get the air purifier. As soon as I plugged it in the indicator light turned red, meaning very dirty air. Fortunately, it quickly cleared the air, but any time we opened a door the light immediately turned purple.

At the moment, in this land of clean water and clear skies, we are experiencing some of the worst air quality anywhere in the world. In the past few days, the Air Quality Index (AQI) on my EPA app has registered over 1100, far higher than the threshold for “Hazardous” air, which is 301. The entire east coast and Midwest have been under air quality alerts from the fires in Canada, but where I live — Duluth, Minnesota — has had the worst air from the fires just a hundred miles to our north. Oddly, the air here is actually worse than in the towns that have been evacuated due to the fires. It’s the worst air ever experienced here. Even inside, the air purifiers are struggling to keep up.

What is a Glorian? Almost a Review of Terry Tempest’s book by Sara Wright

There is something deeper than hope that is calling us writes Terry Tempest Williams internationally acclaimed naturalist, environmentalist, and author in The Glorians. When we focus our attention on what she calls the ‘holy ordinary’ we are transported into a new way of being.

A Glorian can be a life changing dream like the one Terry had that inspired the title of this book. “Your vow is to create the Epic Documentation of the Glorians,” she was told as she reached the top of a tower by way of a spiral staircase. “What the hell is a Glorian” her father asked. A Glorian can be a moment, memory, an animal, plant, root, eclipse, an encounter with self or with others, an ordinary or non -ordinary experience that pulls us into the Now when the cloak of linear time falls away, and presence is all there is.

Terry shares her experiences with Glorians throughout the book but refuses to define who or what they might be believing that each person’s perceptions are different.

The Glorians written by Terry Tempest Williams, discussion by Sara Wright

The Glorians: Visitations from the Holy Ordinary is an astonishing book written by internationally acclaimed writer Terry Tempest Willams that is predicated on the necessity of bearing compassionate witness to all beings during these troubled times. It is a book about family, friends, earth and dreams, the later of which inspired the title. The volume is composed of a series of essays, only one of which I will discuss here.

Terry, who teaches at Harvard Divinity School, writes about the Divinity Tree, a two-hundred-year-old red oak that was removed from the Commons. Listening to this narrative as a ‘Tree Woman’ was/is excruciatingly painful. My stomach roils in misery, but I am compelled to listen, over and over, because this is my story too.

I came to the mountains because I was in love with trees and bears discovering an evergreen paradise or so I thought until the dreams began. In my night stories all the trees were being slaughtered and there was nothing I could do. Since I was surrounded by fragrant forests that stretched from horizon to horizon, I could make no sense of these terrifying warnings and let them be.

Fire and Ice – wintersolstice25 by Sara Wright

(written during and after the solstice passed)

I walked down
to rippling waters
listening….
Frozen mosses
trees and me
old snow
overflowing
anguish
gathered in a
Chalice of Light
my prayer
for us
my dog
and me
to flow under
fire and ice
or tolerate
soul murder
numbness,
soul murder
I cannot weep

Reclaiming Our Birthright of Joy by Mary Gelfand

Part 2 was posted yesterday

In my earlier piece on joy I wrote about collective joy—the kind that can be experienced in larger groups of people engaging in a shared experience that brings them a sense of joy and connection, like dancing in the streets. Here I’m talking about a more personal kind of joy, shared perhaps with a few people.

Speaking as a woman and a feminist, I have often been conflicted about joy. Sure I want to experience joy, but I often feel guilty about it. How can I allow myself to feel the simple joy that beauty and cosmic connection can bring when there is so much suffering in the world? When I was finally able to accept that denying myself joy did not reduce the suffering of others and was harmful to me, I was able to move past the guilt trip induced by my Christian upbringing. I began to look for ways to bring more joy into my life, and discovered a mother-lode of wisdom from multiple sources.