Newsletter Fall 2023
This Relational World
All My Relations is a painting by Simran Singh
“Earth may be alive: not as the ancients saw her—a sentient Goddess with a purpose and foresight—but alive like a tree. A tree that quietly persists, never moving except to sway in the wind, yet endlessly conversing with the sunlight and the soil. Using sunlight and water and nutrient minerals to grow and change. But all done so imperceptibly.”
Mitakuye Oyasin: All Our Relations
Mitakuye Oyasin or “All My Relations” is an important phrase utilized by Indigenous peoples in North America to express their worldview about the interconnectedness of all creation; from people, to animals and insects, to plants and inanimate objects. It reminds us that we all live within a larger system of relationships and must maintain balance and harmony with all other real and perceived spiritual beings with whom we share this realm.
Mitakuye Oyasin refers not just to the interconnectedness of all that exists – plant, animal, mineral – but also includes elements such as rain, wind, and lightning. Honoring all phenomena in this way allows us to appreciate not just the sky, nature, and living beings, but the rhythms and cycles of the natural world. We can tap into the Lakota Sioux concept of “Mitakuye Oyasin,” or “all my relations,” and appreciate the fact that everything is connected to everything else, making all that is truly one family. From the origins of the universe to the evolution of life on earth, we can celebrate our shared origins.
Paintings by Native American Micqaela Jones
The inspiration for her vibrant paintings come from being raised on the Duck Valley Indian Reservation of the Shoshone and Paiute Nations, along with her family heritage, and abundance of rich cultural influences.
Just Bee
Photo by Kathy Keatley Garvey
I fell in love with his green eyes and golden hair. He was a little round in the middle but that’s what you would expect for an Xylocopa varipuncta. That is the scientific name for the the male valley carpenter bee that is delightfully known as the “teddy Bear Bee”. He appeared in my garden one day in June. I am certain he is male because he is large (about the size of a queen bumble bee), with a golden/buff-colored chubby body with green eyes. The females are black. Xylocopa varipuncta occurs in the Central Valley and Southern California, Arizona, New Mexico and southward through Mexico. Although I live in Southern California, I had never seen one before and I was immediately enchanted.
He bobbed around his favorite plants in the garden. It was a Texas Sage bush. He was also punctual, arriving every day around 6pm and staying for about an hour. Once I learned his schedule, I made sure to be in the garden, sitting on my little red bench that was conveniently positioned facing the Texas Sage.
I looked forward to hanging out with mt new bee-buddy. He fascinated me. I think it was his color and his round barrel body. He was just plain cuteness. He wasn’t nicknamed the teddy bear bee by legendary entomologist Robbin Thorp for nothing.
I incorporated my time with the teddy bear bee every day. I tried to take photographs and video but he moved constantly. I gave up and just started enjoying his company.
By the time July arrived, I kept missing his visit and wondered if my timing was off. I mentioned my disappointment to my husband who knew about my fascination Teddy the Bee. I made him sit on the bench for a Teddy encounter. My husband asked me what the lifespan was of a bubble bee and my heart sank. I had no idea, but I knew it wasn’t very long and that it was entirely possible that Teddy had died. I never saw Teddy again.
We have many relationships in this relational world. Some we never notice. I have other relationships in the garden. I interact with a few demanding scrub jays who expect a steady supply of peanuts. A mockingbird scolds me when I go near her territory in the back corner of the yard and I squack back-a neighborhood squabble. I know a clumsy squirrel that I call Forrest Gump who will take peanuts from my hand but often falls off the wall. He may be a young'un and still finding his way in the world. They are all my teachers. They are "all my relations"
I took these photographs of Teddy the Bee. As you can see, he never stayed still. This was the best I could get.
Teddy taught me to stop rushing around my garden doing work and just sit on a bench and be with a bee. I miss him.
-Kat Reeves
Watch
“If the bee disappeared off the face of the earth, man would only have four years left to live.”
The Arts
Poetry is storytelling. It weaves emotion and turns words into music. In this selection of poetry, we explore relationality.
Ode to My Couch
My decorator said “choose your couch carefully, it will dominate your living room”
You were the Queen of my living room
With as many moods as the moon
A place not just for sitting, for reclining, jumping, wrestling
Conversation, comfort, cuddling
My dog Bonnie thought she owned you
Young unhoused visitors crashed on you
A baby was conceived, a friend faced his mortality
Broken bones did healing time on you
And maybe broken hearts as well
Now you are sprung , wounded, time -worn
You no longer fit my décor
Entropy rules
No more to provide soft landings
You will be carried out by
Two strong strangers, your one good arm first
Piled up cushions last
To the curb for Tuesday pick-up
How do I say good bye to you ?
A tangible symbol
Queen of grace-filled happenings
Loyal remnant of living-on memories
So long time passing
by Ellen Livingston
Photo courtesy Lukasz Szmigiel
Photo courtesy Inside Weather
“We live and breathe words. . . . It was books that made me feel that perhaps I was not completely alone. They could be honest with me, and I with them. Reading your words, what you wrote, how you were lonely sometimes and afraid, but always brave; the way you saw the world, its colors and textures and sounds, I felt--I felt the way you thought, hoped, felt, dreamt. I felt I was dreaming and thinking and feeling with you. I dreamed what you dreamed, wanted what you wanted.”
Photo courtesy Egor Vikhrev
Conversation With A White Goat
You nibble dry grass alone in a neighbor’s yard, my presence
of no interest to you, your hair wired in all directions, a hint
of red across your crown. I once created a weaving of your
style of fibers mixed with sheep, dog, and alpaca wools, to
form a textured moonscape that hangs in a mountain cabin.
The forest service brought a dozen goats of your breed
to eat parched grasses, dried mustard and wild lupine
on the hillside above our town, but fire razed the forest
so swiftly the goatherd couldn’t gather them to safety.
Still, I wonder the meaning when you appear in my dream,
as you calmly glean scrub from a summer-yellowed pasture,
as I prepare to move to another city, as I sort the salvageable
from the discard. My loom and fibers remain stored, soon
to be reclaimed, but not the silk dress of luminous peonies
in gold and pinks, worn only at my niece’s wedding.
Her marriage didn’t last, its remnants ashes
in their fireplace.
by Georgette Unis
Givers
New Jersey mountain so huge
it’s named Montana.
He knows it well—
with his brothers,
spends his youth here
exploring, playing.
Hemlock, oak, dogwood,
birch, what’s left of chestnut.
Drinks from natural springs
hikes endless trails
of this feral cathedral.
Mindful of hunting seasons
when fauna are vulnerable,
Montana equips him for work
in the CCC camps,
a lifetime of skills.
He is at home here;
mountain gives
he learns
entrusts lessons
to his children.
Today, no birds sing
deer are still
wild turkey mute
as wet tread
on wheels of the hearse
slowly rides the familiar road,
it gathers DNA—soil, seeds,
spores, end-of-autumn leaves—
to place at his gravesite.
by Veronica Michalowski
Photo courtesy Joel Filipe
Photo courtesy tabitha turner
Cells
The single-celled organisms
who live in me,
who live as me,
rarely share their thoughts with me,
if thoughts they be.
But sometimes I can feel
their yearning-out
for communion.
Not necessarily communion with
a specific With,
simply communion itself.
Simply mutuality
and embrace.
And often I feel
myself
yearning-out for communion
with what I behold
in James Webb images.
I feel the galaxies singing
to the single-celled organisms
who live in me
and as me.
by Ernie Tamminga
Beach Trip
Disappointed
as I step onto the beach.
Sullen sky
waves curled and small
no bikinis.
A few beachgoers
here and there
sweaters, jackets
pulled up close to the chin.
I settle and take in
the broad panorama.
Shades of gray across the sky
the water, a deep green blue
the salt air
the feel of the sand.
Perfect setting for meditation
though not in the mood.
But my impatience with this prospect
speaks to my need for it.
Strangely, I call upon my mother
long deceased.
I ask her to sit beside me
and to bring her artist’s perception
to this place and to say
whatever she wishes.
I imagine that she’s here
but she says nothing.
Not characteristic
of this lovely woman
with her artist’s soul.
She would normally expound
upon the range of colors
the vibrant life all around.
But nothing, not a word.
She’s just here
absorbing all of it,
offering companionship to me.
This surprising silence
brings her into sharp focus,
her aged beauty
her desire to create
and to serve.
So I ask this vision,
whether imagined
or something more than that,
Mother, what do you want to say to me?
Son, I have little to say.
My words, long past, are still within you.
Whatever wisdom I managed to convey
is still there.
Just take in the beauty all around you.
Know that you belong here,
as much as the water, the waves,
the seabirds, the soft breezes.
Let all of this speak to you along with whatever
wisdom I and others have imparted.
Then she is gone.
I cannot conjure a return.
I remain on this spot until
myriad thoughts, memories
and the scenery converge
into a long-lost perspective
and peace.
Disappointment
with the beach scene
has long since vanished.
I rise to return home,
the sun breaks through.
The somber skies
the ocean’s deep tones
and my mother
have delivered their gifts.
by Dick Bunce
Messengers
1
Using echo clicks
blue whales
find safe passage through the seas.
In pulsing whistles
they locate mates, seek distant pods
warn of threats
recognize returning relatives
signal schools of sardines.
Once their music sounded across whole oceans
now shipping noise cuts short their songs
to menace their survival.
2
Elephants’ voices
still carry ten kilometers
over sun dry savannahs.
They choose their instruments
from an orchestra of snorts
barks, trumpets, stamps
and deep low rumbles
to detect danger, welcome old comrades
create, compose, command
and grieve the loss
of beloved dead kin.
3
Sonorous bronze
cathedral chimes
ring in each hour
toll each quarter
tell of village births and deaths
summon the faithful
to Mass, inspire a Flemish
bell master to create
classic carillon preludes
that still thrill listeners
centuries later.
4
Wolves howl
friend and foes
the location
of their territory
muster other packs
to join the hunt
for challenging prey
celebrate great kills
lead separated members home
with short high yelping questions
and long low moans of reassurance.
5
As summer shadows lengthen
schoolboys pedal
their fat tire bikes
through the town’s
cobblestone streets
listening for mothers’ whistles
from blocks away
calling them
in for dinner.
James! Your mom's whistling!
Better head home!
by Lynn Sargent De Jonghe, August 2023
Multitude
house full of ghosts
constant perishing
I am haunted
by hours and kisses
yesterday was a pot roast
clean to the bone
hand scrubbed platter
porcelain tombstone
my body, hands
full of memories
in the mirror
great grandmother
looks back at me
I am more than myself
alone.
Photo courtesy Vince Fleming
“We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.”
Photo courtesy Joseph Keil
Relational Thoughts
Photo courtesy Joshua Earl
“The cosmos is within us. We are made of star-stuff. We are a way for the universe to know itself.”
Photo courtesy Ben McLeod
“It is an absolute human certainty that no one can know his own beauty or perceive a sense of his own worth until it has been reflected back to him in the mirror of another loving, caring human being.”
The Latest From Our Blogs
Novel Becomings is a blog that features the creative process of artists of all kinds, such as painters, poets, calligraphers, musicians, weavers, architects, and landscape artists. Each essay shares a story about the inspiration, the emergence, and the becoming of an artist's novel creation.
Expanded Universal Awareness
by Kathleen Reeves | September 1, 2023
Artist Andre Van Zijl says that he approaches " a blank surface, canvas, watercolor paper, or document with Beginner's Mind. I don't want to get in the way of what is waiting to be birthed through me. I am not an artist making art, or an author writing a book, I am a deep-sea diver coming up for air." In this piece, the Cobb Institute’s Visual Artist Laureate shares his creative process, his philosophy of art, and some recent works.
Process in Praxis offers insights, reflections, and stories about the many different ways that people can live out process-relational perspectives. We hope readers will find inspiration in learning about the wide variety of novel and creative ways that process thought can be expressed.
A Work in Process: Seeing Possibilities Instead of Roadblocks
by Clarence Graham White | August 1, 2023
Clarence White is retiring this year after enjoying a rich career, a career that others predicted he could never have. Clarence also has a devoted wife and family, a family that others also predicted he could never have. Clarence has Cerebral Palsy, and the “others” who doubted his potential were proven wrong. He had possibilities they couldn’t see. In this piece he talks about embracing those possibilities even as new challenges present themselves. Clarence inspires us to focus on our dreams and goals and trust in our own subjective aims.
Advancing Educational Possibilities
The Bethlehem Centre, in collaboration with the Interfaith Center of Arkansas, the Cobb Institute, and Process & Faith is delighted to present this captivating eight-week online series. Led by Sophia Said and Jay McDaniel, this enriching series will delve into the connections between spirituality, poetry, and the transformative concepts of process theology.
Learning Circles
A Discussion Group Contemplating the Vision of Philosophers & Mystics
Facilitated by Dr. Ernie Tamminga, this discussion group will carefully consider the vision of the human evolutionary future or rhythm of being as seen by mystics and thinkers such as paleontologist Pierre Teilhard de Chardin or Spanish Roman Catholic priest and a proponent of interfaith dialogue Raimon Panikkar.
A Discussion Group About Books That Foster An Integral Spirituality
Process & Coffee is about spiritual integration and exploration. We meet weekly to dive into books by mystics and sages. The discussion that follows helps to deepen our own spiritual lives.
Promoting Healthy Communities
A Video Series Honoring a Community That is Dedicated to
Cultivating Compassion and Nurturing an Ecological Civilization
The tagline of the Cobb Institute is "what is, what could be."
People around the world live between these two realms. In terms of "what is," we may appreciate the gifts of our communities: friendships and social connections, a sense of belonging, services and resources, public art, education and a diverse population. The fortunate may also enjoy the "natural world" within their local setting. However, we are also aware of the ways in which our communities fall painfully short of such ideals: violence, economic inequities, loneliness, family dysfunction, unequal access to education, healthcare and affordable housing, and climate change and environmental degradation, etc. For many, “what is” can hardly be survived much less tolerated. No matter what your particular situation, “what is” is both beautiful and tragic in different degrees.
In terms of "what could be," our hearts and minds are drawn towards the ideal of a truly healthy community: Creative, compassionate, participatory, diverse, inclusive, humane to animals, and environmentally friendly, leaving no one behind. At the Cobb Institute, we refer to these communities as "just and compassionate communities" or simply "compassionate" communities. They encompass justice, creativity, and joy. They will be the building blocks of what we call ecological civilization: a civilization where people respect and care for the whole community of life—not just people—and particularly for the vulnerable. For us compassion necessarily includes a sense of deep connectedness with all that lives, knowing that all are are part of a shared web of life, the living Earth. Hence, a compassionate community must embody an "integral ecology," one that connects community well-being with personal well-being.
In celebrating Pomona, our goal is to acknowledge and celebrate a local community that is dedicated to integral ecology in practical ways, lifting it up as an example. We also want to honor the individual leaders and visionaries who publicly advocate for this commitment and help make a compassionate Pomona a reality. Pomona has committed to be a "compassionate city" as part of the global Compassionate City Initiative. We dedicate this podcast series to interviewing various leaders in Pomona who are actively contributing to this movement, hoping that can serve as inspirations to all of us. Let Pomona be an example, not an exception, to the commitment sorely needed around the world: compassionate communities and Ecological Civilization.
Our First Interview: Dr. Laura Burgis
Amy's Farm Closure Announcement
Community, Loss and Possibilities
Sometimes a relationship leaves us with a broken heart. Sometimes it’s grief. As a hospice Chaplain and Bereavement coordinator I have seen my share of grief. One thing I notice is that there are different kinds of grief. You can grieve for a place, a way of being in the world. You can grieve for paved over soil. I grieve for the loss of Amy’s Farm.
AMY’S FARM IS CLOSING
Our family has stewarded this land for 35 years. We opened our gates to share this beautiful farm with the public 25 years ago, offering educational field trips and fresh produce to our visitors. Our hearts are breaking as we share the news that Amy’s Farm must close. The current landowner is selling the property and the future landowner is silent on the matter. We have until August 30 to dismantle, remove, transplant, and find homes for everything that we have built here. We are aware of the extreme loss that our community will feel; we feel it also, immensely. We have hope for the future of Amy’s Farm, but we still do not know what that future will be.
Randy Beckenham of Amy’s Farm has been a good friend of the Cobb Institute. We celebrated their commitment to urban agriculture. Randy has attended our meetings and has been an important voice in Sustainable Pomona. The Cobb Institute cared about Amy's Farm. I cared about Amy's Farm.
I’ve personally led field trips there for the Cobb Institute. I’ve milked their cows, fed the piglets, and tasted their produce.
Randy fought hard and, in the process, he educated many about the importance of urban agriculture, but the fight was lost in favor of warehouses. Where there was once rich soil growing rows of Swiss chard, tomatoes, peppers, and radishes there will soon be concrete floors. The sounds of geese, cows, and children’s laughter will be replaced with the sounds of forklifts and big rig trucks.
Randy said, "I mean this is prime farmland, and once you pave it, it's gone."
By Kat Reeves
Find out more information from local news station ABC.
Fostering Spiritual Vitality
We Exist in This Moment Together
When I bring my therapy dog, Camo, and my guitar to a memory care hall in a local nursing home, I am with twenty or thirty people whose short-term memories are absent, and whose physical disabilities are numerous. Some are in reclining wheelchairs; many cannot speak or string together a series of words into a sentence. The expressions on some faces are emotionless, and in certain instances, they appear sad or traumatized. There are those who might be yelling.
However, upon seeing Camo, their desire is to pet him. The simple act of touch becomes a sacrament for them, a source of momentary healing. They are touching something beautiful, and the solace is in the touch. After th initial petting, I sing a familiar song – "You Are My Sunshine," "God Bless America," "He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands," "Can’t Help Falling in Love." Many join in, tapping their feet or hands. The beauty of rhythm and melody, and the lyrics, are inside them. The melodies themselves unearth treasures of the heart that are not lost, merely buried. Smiles emerge, and laughter. It is not that I am serving them with a sense of superiority; rather, we exist in this moment together, as equals, within a community of love. It's a love that's not easy, but love nonetheless, tinged with a touch of tragic beauty. There is a sadness, yes, but also a joy.
I do not anticipate this moment lasting indefinitely, nor do I expect them to recall it. The beauty resides in the instant, and it includes them, Camo, and myself. Camo lies down while we sing, then rises afterward, and they proceed to pet him once more. He affectionately licks some of them, and in this gesture, they feel cherished in a unique manner. He reciprocates their affection. This instant becomes a sacred occurrence, a fragment of the boundless, an element of God. This encapsulates life at its peak: sacred moments that merge into the unfolding nature of God, the profound crucible where we all dwell as equals and as one. In this cauldron, hierarchies dissolve, differences coexist, unity prevails. I am, in my own mind, not simply practicing process theology. It's not just that big ideas come down to earth. The big ideas are not so important. It is the love that is important: my love, their love, Camo's love.
-Jay McDaniel
“In its solitariness the spirit asks, What, in the way of value, is the attainment of life? And it can find no such value till it has merged its individual claim with that of the objective universe. Religion is world-loyalty.”
John Cobb & Friends Gatherings
| September 5. | Patricia Adams Farmer – Grief, Beauty, and a Process Theology for the People |
| September 12 | TBA |
| September 19 | Sam Coker – Popular Music and Theology: John Coltrane and Heavy Metal |
| September 26 | Vivian Song – The Yunhe Centre in China and the Living Earth |
The Cobb Institute Bookshelf
by Andrew M. Davis
The Meeting of Alfred North Whitehead and Steven J. Dick on God, Extraterrestrial Life, and Cosmic Destiny
In Metaphysics of Exo-Life, Andrew M. Davis offers a constructive philosophical response to historian Steven J. Dick’s “naturalistic cosmotheology” from within the process metaphysics of Alfred North Whitehead. Davis articulates how Dick’s six core principles of cosmotheology, developed over the last two decades, can be substantially deepened when inversely approached through Whitehead’s organic metaphysics. Detailing how Whitehead’s aesthetic cosmotheological realism addresses significant metaphysical problems wedded to Dick’s proposal, Davis develops six alternative principles that include Dick’s naturalistic intuitions, but also transcend key conceptual and explanatory limitations of his antirealist cosmotheology. The result is a deeper Whiteheadian cosmotheology in a universe pervaded with life, mind, and meaning.
In Appendix A, Davis makes a case for the inclusion of process theology in current and future discussions of God and extraterrestrial life by reviewing a variety of neglected statements made by past and present process philosophers and theologians, including core thematic affirmations that emerge. Appendix B republishes Lewis S. Ford’s pioneering 1968 article “Theological Reflections on Extraterrestrial Life” as the first sustained consideration of the topic from the perspective of process philosophy and theology.
Process Mysticism
by Daniel A. Dombrowski
Process Mysticism uses the process philosophies of Charles Hartshorne, Alfred North Whitehead, and Henri Bergson to explore mystical religious experiences. The aim is not so much to demonstrate that such experiences are true or veridical as it is to understand, in a William Jamesian fashion, how they could be possible and not contradict the concept of God held by philosophers and theologians. Divine world-inclusiveness, ideal power and tragedy, the ontological argument, asceticism and the via negativa, divine visions and voices, and the aesthetics and ethics of mysticism are all treated in detail. The book is ecumenical in that it is meant to illuminate mystical experiences as they occur around the world in different religious traditions, but the author is especially familiar with those in the Abrahamic religions. "Mysticism" can refer to either direct experience of God or the claim that such experience is ineffable, and both senses of the term are carefully analyzed in the book.
“If we don’t live in the same vibe, it is hard to be aware of each other. When our reading differs from our neighbors’ reality, our surroundings may take a range of discordant shades and daily episodes become unrecognizable. But if we endeavor to find out, the “who is who” the “what is what” and the “where is Waldo” we might demonstrate our social literacy and connectedness.”
Photo courtesy Redd F
