One of the major themes of P4C is wonder. Philosophy for children tries to foster wonder as the nascence of philosophical reflection. That's why I paused when I read this: "nature is reflected in our capacity for wonder". I'm not sure exactly what that means unless he's saying that time in nature encourages wonder. Louv does explicitly claim elsewhere in the book that the natural world enlivens the senses and awakens wonder.
I'm trying to think if I've experienced moments of wonder in the outdoors. What first comes to mind is a magical moment almost 3 years ago: I was 36 weeks pregnant with Daffodil and the park moms went camping en masse to the north shore. One evening before tucking in we retreated with E & S to the shore to say a prayer. We prayed and sat there in the dark together looking at the moon out over the ocean. I was awash with feelings of peace and beauty and wonder; I doubt I'll ever forget it. Another time: last Christmas while visiting in Provo we took our usual walk out at Utah Lake. We walked/slid out on the ice from the road through the reeds to the open lake. Where the reeds stopped and the open expanse began there was an incredible frozen ripple of ice sheets, just like an Andy Goldsworthy sculpture. Thin, thin sheets of ice froze and piled up on each other as the waves lapped in formed a wandering ridge along the shoreline. Martin picked up pieces and skipped them out onto the frozen water like skipping rocks across a pond to hear the tinkling sound of the crystals breaking up. Stumbling on that piece of beauty was a grace moment.
In any case, the statement rings true. Louv advocates reconnecting our children and ourselves to the natural world, spefically with nature-play experiences, for health--physical, emotional and even intellectual. Martin seems to have fared better for a nature-steeped coming-of-age. I always was an urban girl, in fact, one of the things that attracted me to Martin was the way he showed me the natural world. I could sing those songs "I was brought to my senses" and "there were birds all around but I never heard them singing, no I never heard them at all, 'til there was you".... My bit of wilderness was the jungle lot in the middle of the block that we could sneak into under and over fences (which, btw, is no longer secret and dormant but covered with fruit trees). it was everything from the secret garden to the secret graveyard. We spent a fair amount of time in Provo's irrigation ditches too as well as in the neighbors' tree-house complete with "escape routes" and a crow's nest. I didn't discover camping or mountain biking or even skiing like some of my siblings did; most of my outdoors adventures, save the childhood mud pies, came post Martin. What are your childhood play memories?
Ene has been a huge influence on me to get outside more. Our living space was so cramped in paradise that parks were a must and most days found us out somewhere. That's where I become converted to the idea that kids need outside time and, I'm discovering, so do I. It is still an effort to make it happen though. Somehow I could spend all day whittling away at the laundry!
Here's another provocative statement from the book: "People are unlikely to value what they cannot name. [A] student [said] that every time she learns the name of a plant, she feels as if she is meeting someone new. Giving a name to something is a way of knowing it." Also in P4C we read a short story (essay?) called "She Unnames Them". I haven't looked at this in a while but from what I remember, it explores the possibility of Eve rescuing the creatures/creations that Adam asserted his naming will on (a symbol of patriarchy?) by unnaming them back to their raw wildness. It wasn't convincing to me because I identify with the statement above--I want to be able to name things and feel more connected when I can. I loved learning some of the names of things in zoology and the details of the human body in physiology. When Martin was studying plant families, I benefitted too. I love the names themselves--aster, phlox, hawkweed--and only wish I knew more of the names of things.
"I have believed so long
in the magic of names and poems.
I hadn't thought them bodiless
at all. Tall Buttercup. Wild Vetch.
'Often I am permitted to return
to a meadow.' It all seemed real to me
last week. Words. You are the body
of my world, root and flower, the
brightness and surprise of birds.
I miss you, love. Tell Leif
you're the names of things."
From "Letter" by Robert Hass
Utah Lake, twilight, May 12, 2007
6 comments:
Oh, I love this, Becca. Love the thoughts, love the stories, love the poem, love the picture. I've thought a lot about the value/importance/meaning of "being outside" too. And I learned a word for "naming" in one of my linguistics classes, that I've referred to in my head, but can't remember what it is now. Nomology? Nomenology? Something like that.
When Scout was born and it felt like the whole world was this vibrating, growing, shimmering place, I remember feeling so--not panicked--but the urgency of knowing the names of everything, of every kind of shrub and grass and bird and tree because I would need to teach it to her.
Joh, I love the image of you with newborn Scout and the world alive in a new way. Maybe you can teach me some names!
becca---so happy to see a wealth of new posts! yippee!!!! i love "tell leif you're the names of things."
This is so wonderful I don't even know where to start.
So I'll just say you're a sunrise.
Lovely picture and lovely post. I have missed your posting. I loved your story about the prayer together and looking at the moon over the ocean. You have always amazed me at your sensitivity to beautiful moments. I also really loved the P4C comments, and think the one about things becoming more significant after you know the name (or you've named them) is very interesting. Sure love you.
You are the body
of my world, root and flower, the
brightness and surprise of birds.
I would surely miss you, love, were you not here with me.
your (other) moiety
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