Anyone who has had small children has probably heard them talking out loud to themselves–while at play or when they are lying in bed, just after they wake up or just before they fall asleep. My seven-year-old daughter Samanna picks out a different beanie baby to sleep with every night. She recently said to me, “I know my beanie babies aren’t real but when I talk to them, it seems like they are listening to me…it makes me feel good to talk to them when I am alone in my room at night. What do you think of that?”
Her question brought back memories of my childhood and how much time I spent talking to all kinds of things that may or may not have been listening. Like my daughter, I had dolls and stuffed animals that seemed to be alive when I talked with them. We always had cats and dogs around our house, so I also spent a lot of time talking to our pets. They seemed to listen intently to what I said to them. One especially long-lived cat we had for many years seemed to know when I needed her to curl up next to me and listen.
Family camping trips and Girl Scouting introduced me to a love of nature and I often spoke to mountains, trees, lakes, stars…telling them how lovely or awesome they were and how grateful I was to be in their presence. When the moon reappeared each month, I welcomed it and when Orion showed over the horizon each fall, I said, “There you are again, my old friend.” I embraced the Native American philosophy that everything has a spirit, not only living things, but even rocks and mountains, clouds and sky.
Raised loosely as a Catholic, at a young age I was taught that God was always watching me, so I spent a lot of time talking with Him. I asked questions and He seemed to help me figure stuff out. As I got older, the Virgin Mary replaced God and most of my thoughts and prayers were directed towards her. As a girl, I felt a female deity could listen and understand my problems better than a male God. I felt she passed my thoughts along to God and Jesus…kind of like a family meeting between all of us.
In high school, when I gave up on Catholic dogma, it took me a while to get out of the habit of talking to someone I no longer believed existed. Each time I caught myself addressing Jesus, God or Mary, I had to tell myself that I was really just talking to myself…there wasn’t anyone “up there” listening.
Even though I sometimes I felt there was still something out there listening, I attributed those feelings to remnants of childish wishful thinking–a lingering hope that there was an entity in the universe that I could talk to.
Since I wanted to be completely rational, I stopped talking to my pets as kindred spirits and limited my conversations to superficial animal topics (Are you hungry? Do you want to go outside?). Although I still enjoyed the awe and beauty of nature, I stopped addressing natural objects directly. The moon was just a dead ball reflecting the sun’s light and Orion was just a collection of stars that were thousands of light years apart (it was a stretch of the imagination to see them as a hunter anyway).
Although I felt sensible and completely superior to all those poor saps around me who still believed in a world populated by supernatural spirits, it sure took the fun out of the universe for me.
Now, 20 years later, I find I am slipping into my old ways again. Most of the time, my inner conversations are addressed to something deep inside of me, but I am no longer entirely certain that it’s just the physical me. There seems to be an “other” in there that is listening.
I’m telling my cat secrets again and greeting the moon. When I am outside on winter nights, I feel the presence of Orion over me and I can’t help but look up and say, “There you are.” I know he’s just a random collection of stars, but he seems to embody a spirit that is alive in the cosmos. When seeds or bulbs I’ve planted push their infant shoots through the dirt, I find I must welcome them with “I’m glad you made it here.” I feel compelled to speak to the life force within them.
When I am out on the desert or up in the mountains or near the ocean I feel tuned in again to the Native American philosophy of everything having a spirit. The world seems to be vibrating on a level beyond its mere physical dimensions.
And how will I answer my daughter’s question? I’ll tell her that it doesn’t matter whether or not you have a name for who or what is listening…it doesn’t matter whether or not you have a clear vision of who or what is listening…it doesn’t even matter whether or not there is something listening. I’ll tell her that what is important is that when you feel the deep human desire to talk to any part of the universe, that you do.
~Written in March 2002
School of Thought 