The Bewilderness

A word as a gift.

A cartoon

A thought

Cartoons and words are a bit hard to come by at the moment. Not because there are no ideas, because there are too many, and OMG, that is connected to that, and that, and oh boy, I’m not sure I can go down that rabbit hole today. Anyone relate?

The most resonant thing for me in the past few weeks is a word gifted to me by Nan @ Imaginalbody:

When I heard Nan say it, I felt a full-body recognition. Oh yes, that is where I live now, the tangle. The far edge of modernity, still severed from ecological belonging but recognising a more ancient truth of belonging in my body. There is disorientation, but there is also an invitation. You can read about Nan’s use of the word in the practice of reweaving relations here.

I had to look up the etymology. Bewilder now means to be lost in a cognitive sense, but originally it meant to be lost in a physical place - led astray into the wilds (sounds fun!) Somewhere along the way, we stopped getting lost in forests and started getting lost in our own heads. How perfect. Even our words have morphed to reinforce the separation of brain from body, and body from ecology.

The invitation is right there in the word - may we be lost together and allow the magic of place and people to work on us. How do we accompany each other here without rushing to fix and diagnose? Who might I become if I allow my certainties and identities to dissolve? What might be possible?

I just finished reading A Nation of Strangers, a book about displacement and belonging. Ece’s stories of being unhomed show that we become less strange to each other by caring for one another. I’d add that we become less strange to the world by caring for it.

I keep thinking about how we stay in, or build, thriving community with people who don't share our story about the world anymore, or work towards anything together when so much is disputed. Maybe not everyone has to enter the bewilderness, but perhaps those of us who can, by loosening our grip on who we think we are, might find something older and more common underneath the disagreement.

Again, my drawing this week appeared mostly fully formed (also, we had just rewatched Laputa Castle in the Sky - can you tell?). I am often surprised by what Li’l Bean is saying. “Welcome” - for whoever has stumbled into this disturbing but magical clearing. Saying the only true thing left - welcome, you live here now. Sorry about the mess.

Glimmers and sparks*

My glimmers for today are:

• Sunlight on my face, in a chair by the window, in midwinter.

• The Australian government is signalling some decent starting responses to AI regulation - I am glad this is finally firmly on the agenda.

• Some of our family have been obsessively playing the drawing card game Quick on the Draw, our own version where the prompts are more about drawing crazy things than being on the clock. It has been a hilarious and inappropriate diversion.

Li’l bean is your reminder to pause and ask: What are your glimmers for today?

From your friend and your small, steadfast companion,

*Drawing Li’l Bean helped me navigate out of a period of depression in 2023. A good friend 13, 595km away, helped, too, through a ritual of swapping daily glimmers via text.

A glimmer is a tiny spark of hope, enthusiasm or joy that lifts your heart. By helping me find three glimmers each day, she gently helped me see the joy and beauty already around me.

I’d like to share this practice with you and invite you to reflect on your glimmers for the day when you read this. Think of Li’l Bean as a reminder to notice the glimmers and sparks in your life. We’d love it if you would like to share your glimmers in the comments or by hitting reply (if you don’t like sharing publicly).

My cartoons grow from Ngunnawal Country, where sovereignty was never ceded. My respect and gratitude to Elders across time, those who have held, who still hold, and who will hold this Country in wisdom and care. May my small work walk softly alongside their long story of stewardship and belonging.