When we gather to wonder about the sacred,
we begin as separate scraps of cloth,
squares left on the seamstress’s floor.
Perhaps we believe we have nothing to offer
because we are not more whole.
Wonder becomes the needle.
The sacred is green thread.
Communion fills the seams.
And who, or what, is the seamstress?
Of course, we were confused
about our worth.
But my god,
it is beautiful when we can’t help but see
how essential we are—the material of us
gathered into the grand cloth.
It is painful to be pierced in the joining.
No one wants to know this.
And yet each time we wonder together,
and wonder, and wonder,
we learn again just how we fit,
how integral we are, how surely
the cloth needs us all.
—Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
Dear Springhouse community,
I hope this letter finds you well as we move into the height of spring. All around us, things are emerging and rising into fuller life, even as the world continues to hold such uncertainty and brokenness. The seasons remind us that wholeness is not one condition, but many rhythms held together — growth and rest, clarity and challenge, all part of a living whole.
This points to the theme I want to explore this month in relation to the source of life: the relationship between unity and diversity, distinction and similarity, and what it means for us to truly center the wholeness of life in all that we do.
I recently celebrated my daughter’s 22nd birthday at a restaurant here in the Blue Ridge Mountains with my husband, daughter, and her friend. It is hard to believe that Lizzie is 22 years old; I can still remember her following her older brother around in the garden and coming back with loads of carrots. As our meal came to close, the birthday dessert came out with a lit candle, and the server sang, in a very low tone, the classic birthday song. We joined in at the table and soon, everyone in the room was singing. It was precious to see how this one individual celebrating her 22 years on the planet, could bring together a room full of strangers, and even more magical, through a song that we all know. One person’s birthday turned into a whole group singing–unified by a song and a desire to celebrate life. That’s magic to me.
I remember teaching at a sustainability conference a long time ago in Philadelphia, at a place called the Philly Magic Gardens. If you haven’t been, this place is wall-to-wall mosaics. Everywhere you turn there are broken pieces of pottery put together in large wall patterns that tell a story much larger than the broken pieces. The workshop I was leading was about taking our own brokenness, our own wounds, and stepping back a bit (through art and dance) to see if we could see how they fit into a bigger picture. Even though I chose this venue because of how well it suited the themes we were exploring then, I remember being struck by the power of stepping back and seeing the whole; while understanding that each individual, unique piece on that wall created the beauty I was witnessing as part of the whole.
When unity does not erase difference, and when difference is held together like Trommer points to in her poem, the magic of interdependent relationship can happen. The Springhouse community has been working over the past 12 years to create a community where individuals can grow into deeper belonging with themselves, each other, and this place. This happens when the fundamental principles of respecting individuality, fostering unity, and taking care of relationships are practiced.
This is more complex than I once thought, especially when it is lived over time. Unity requires a bigger picture, a primary purpose, a North Star to bring us together and direct us. Respecting individuality within that larger purpose (much like the pieces of the cohesive mosaic) means having practices in place that allow a person to be seen, for example one-to-one mentoring and meaningful opportunities to reflect on one’s depth and growth.
As we grow together over time, processes to take care of and restore relationships are needed. Much like building a mosaic, I imagine, it is as important to see the beauty of each piece, and it is to see the whole. In a community, a living system, it is of the utmost importance to have systems in place that allow us to keep learning how to be honest with ourselves and each other, and to be responsible for our actions and feelings, as we learn how to be in interdependent relationships over time.
A mosaic is defined as a pattern or picture made up of smaller, distinct pieces. A community is strongest when each member continues to more deeply understand who they are, and how they fit into the larger picture.
One last story about the trip we recently took to Jubilee Climate Farm in Harrisonburg, VA. This farm is committed to farming as a community with immigrant populations using agroforestry practices. It is led by a team that includes someone I worked with almost 30 years ago in Colorado Springs. We were both engaged with the social justice community in different ways and crossed paths from time to time in our work. It was wonderful to see Tom again.
Here is what I noticed about the dance between unity and diversity in this place: the diversity of people was present in culture and in age, but what I also noticed is that the place—the Earth, the garden—was very much a member of this community. It is easy in a world where disembodiment reigns to forget that the Earth, and the cosmos that hold us and this Earth, are part of the whole picture. When we forget this, which we have, we cause deep destruction through that forgetting.
Jubilee holds a daily space to remember that we are not only part of a world with many cultures, but also part of the Earth itself, and the reminders there are plentiful. One example is an outhouse that allows human manure to become part of the growing strategy, particularly in relationship to willow, which thrives on that manure. That willow is then used in a number of ways, including being part of a system that helps to filter out the toxins in the creek that flows through the farm.
We were so inspired by this place and are very excited about the future possibilities with Tom and the team there as they help us bring to life a farm like this at Springhouse.
Life both unifies and diversifies. Life is relationship. To be in relationship with the mysteries of life—the source of life, the power of life itself—is to practice deepening our intimacy with unity, diversity, and connection.
Springhouse is a place where we envision, practice, and share ways of living that contribute to a thriving world for all. For us, this means creating the conditions where we can learn to recognize and live the magic of these threads of wholeness, distinction, and brokenness—and how they are woven together.
I hope these stories have given you something to carry with you as you reflect on this mystery. And I hope you will join us in this exploration. In the coming months, you will see more opportunities for adults near and far to take this journey over the longer-term with us. You will also be hearing from us very soon about our one and only fundraiser, Give Local, this June where we seek to raise $120,000 to support our efforts.
Until next time, and with deep gratitude,
Jenny
