He Saw Everything as Being Alive

being alive kayak nature theosophy

He Saw Everything as Being Alive
By Laurie Beth Jones

There is not only spring in the air, there seems to be a spring in everyone’s step that I see in San Diego.  COVID case numbers here are dropping.  And days like today, for example, are dripping with sunshine and possibility.  A brief rain and low clouds yesterday made every flower I passed resplendent with liquid diamonds.  The arching blue Coronado bridge seemed to be holding up a batch of meringue whipped clouds, separating them from the sea below, upon which drifted a bright yellow kayak with a big red dot painted on its center.

Color is alive.  The sea is alive.  Plants are alive.  The rain is alive.   And now we hear from scientists that spider webs have clear musical notes in each individual strand, and play different symphonies that the spider responds to, depending on the circumstance.  Ding dong!
Dinner’s here! Or Tap Tap Tap.  Your date has arrived!  (Come to think of it, with spiders, those two incidents often end up being one and the same.)

We are learning that octopi dream while they sleep, their different tentacles changing color, depending on which REM cycle they are in.  What are they dreaming about, I wonder?
Oh, nature is alive, my friends.  And so are you and I.

One of the things I love so much about Jesus is that he saw everything as being alive.  It was as if nature itself and he were one Being.  This is why he could walk on water or command the winds and waves to be still.  Why he knew which side of the boat the fish were on (the other.)

His work was restoration, bringing what seemed dead or wounded back to life.  And he knew that nature really, really liked him.  “If you refuse to acknowledge me,” he said one time to his hypocritics, “the very rocks and trees will sing my name.”  Now that is what I call knowing who your friends are.

I think Jesus’ work was to restore us to our true nature, as well as True Nature itself.  Studies are showing that we need to be outdoors more in order to stay healthy.  One article I read said in order to feel grounded, take your shoes off and feel the earth.  When you feel overwhelmed, just lie down on the ground and feel its support underneath you.  

I remember once being quizzed by a reporter about whether or not I believed trees could feel, because if I did, I must be something other than a Christian.  I said to my inquisitor, “I believe all nature has consciousness.  How else could it ‘obey’ Jesus when he said “Be Still?”  This question seemed to stump her.  It does not lessen the power of God to imply or ultimately understand that all of life is intelligent—just in ways we cannot yet see or understand.

Last week I made the decision to sell my not often used enough kayak.  As the young man started to haul it off to his truck, he turned back and asked “What did you call her?” nodding down to the yellow boat.  I smiled and said “Lemoncello.”  “Then that shall remain her name” he said, “and I promise I’ll take good care of her.” This transaction made me happy, because it wasn’t a transaction, really.  It was a transfer of care.

My friend Catherine asked me last week what I thought of death and the afterlife.  I told her that I feel like we are each individual cresting waves, full of buildup and surge and splendor, cresting and foaming onto the sand, to be drawn deliciously back out to the sea from which we came. She asked further, as she always does, “Do you think we will be individuals in that realm?” And I said “Yes.”  And then we pondered how the sea could retain its individuality in waves and she said “Jonesie, I think you need to work on your definition a little bit.”  That made me laugh.  She always leaves me with a challenge.

So...here it is...The sum of my current afterlife theosophy is this: Just like Jesus, I see everything as being alive. 

LBJ ~ Live. Breathe. Joy.