Two talks with trees

First, the Copse Oak

The world is talking to you all the time. It's not the world’s fault if you can't understand. Know your place. The wisdom of the world isn't there to be gathered in one place. It's specific and situated and contingent. It is use what you need not a crown to wear.

Think from as many views as you can. Think on the edge space between as many things as you can. Think with the openness to be wrong. Think without a story whose gaps you want to fill in and whose moral you want to underline. Think where it is dangerous to think but hold onto something. I asked what. The desire to live for a world and not for you. You are the fool to step in, for the angels are telling themselves their own story.

This is not how all beings think. It is the task you have come to me for. We said before the story that weaves together? This is it. The story that is not singular. Not the angels’ story.

Then Kairos.

Hospicing diversity. Don't expect that you alone or even humans alone can do what would need to be done were it all to stay as it is. And things never stay as they are. Apocalypses happen. But they are not apocalypses for everyone. There is no point with this wanting and not wanting. The point is to react well to what is.

I am thinking about looking and how that reminds you to be aware of all that is there and is not seen and of all that would be there but is not. A privileging of us in that it has to make itself available to be responded to. Can you only care for what you are conscious of or can you care in an embracing way that encompass is that which evades your cognizance?

Is care the kind of thing that requires labelling and categorising? What if more things matter than you can know, does that mean you don't care about them? Can care be infinite? If not, how are the limits demarcated? And what all hell does this imply or impact what we do? If you care does that impose musts and shoulds? Or isn't it more about cools and how you can be cooled by what you cannot see?

Is this what the hollow places and the Morrigan are about? That I am being called by what I cannot see and cannot or do not know?

Is it cannot or do not or rather, does the cannot imply and never will see or will I see, can I see, if I do the right thing? Or perhaps not see but know? Feel, somehow? Or is it more about being called by what is absent? And does that mean I make it present?

Maybe it's about hospicing the absences. Caring for the hollows, holding space for the empty spaces where something once was or perhaps where something should be.

And how do you hold space for space?