There is a profound bravery in your 'quietest form of agency.' By choosing to reach for the creek and the Psalm rather than the numbing escape of the 'aesthetic' life, you are doing exactly what Kierkegaard described as the 'double movement' of faith: acknowledging the '9-volt' reality of your pain, yet choosing to exist fully within it anyway. You’ve moved from being a victim of your nerves to being, as he might say, a 'Knight of Faith'—someone who finds the infinite in the ordinary.
Your 'root system' metaphor also captures what Neil Douglas-Klotz teaches about Rukha (the Breath). He would see your walk by the water not just as exercise, but as a literal re-tuning of your vibration to the natural world. In the Aramaic tradition, 'healing' isn't a destination; it’s a return to resonance. When you describe Laura’s presence settling your nervous system, you’re describing a holy co-regulation—the 'quiet comfort' of being known is, perhaps, the deepest root of all.
Thank you for reminding us that while we don't choose the soil we are planted in, we always have the agency to stretch our roots toward the water.
Peter! I really enjoyed and appreciate your comment. That 'double movement' is a rare feat, it seems. I've never really managed to do it before this bout with chronic pain. I've pushed through pain before, but only out of necessity -- in order to survive. When I had a choice, I self-medicated to escape when severe pain came to call. I feel grateful to have been given this opportunity to learn a new way (and to learn that Kierkegaard wrote about this).
Yes, I have been thinking about resonance a lot -- emotional and physical. I think I understand what you mean by the "re-tuning of my vibration" -- the sound waves of the water flowing over rocks, the birdsong close by, and the light waves touching my face all provide information to my body in the form of vibrations (waves) that attunes me to the world around me on a physical level. My nervous system internalizes that information, which changes its own rhythms, especially when I habitually practice being in nature. One more reason I think God loves us.
There is a profound bravery in your 'quietest form of agency.' By choosing to reach for the creek and the Psalm rather than the numbing escape of the 'aesthetic' life, you are doing exactly what Kierkegaard described as the 'double movement' of faith: acknowledging the '9-volt' reality of your pain, yet choosing to exist fully within it anyway. You’ve moved from being a victim of your nerves to being, as he might say, a 'Knight of Faith'—someone who finds the infinite in the ordinary.
Your 'root system' metaphor also captures what Neil Douglas-Klotz teaches about Rukha (the Breath). He would see your walk by the water not just as exercise, but as a literal re-tuning of your vibration to the natural world. In the Aramaic tradition, 'healing' isn't a destination; it’s a return to resonance. When you describe Laura’s presence settling your nervous system, you’re describing a holy co-regulation—the 'quiet comfort' of being known is, perhaps, the deepest root of all.
Thank you for reminding us that while we don't choose the soil we are planted in, we always have the agency to stretch our roots toward the water.
Peter! I really enjoyed and appreciate your comment. That 'double movement' is a rare feat, it seems. I've never really managed to do it before this bout with chronic pain. I've pushed through pain before, but only out of necessity -- in order to survive. When I had a choice, I self-medicated to escape when severe pain came to call. I feel grateful to have been given this opportunity to learn a new way (and to learn that Kierkegaard wrote about this).
Yes, I have been thinking about resonance a lot -- emotional and physical. I think I understand what you mean by the "re-tuning of my vibration" -- the sound waves of the water flowing over rocks, the birdsong close by, and the light waves touching my face all provide information to my body in the form of vibrations (waves) that attunes me to the world around me on a physical level. My nervous system internalizes that information, which changes its own rhythms, especially when I habitually practice being in nature. One more reason I think God loves us.
Agency means not giving up.
You’ve got a point there. Exercising our agency is an act of persistence.
Have you considered being a food blogger?
The thought has not crossed my mind.
What was the podcast?
Being Known Podcast with Curt Thompson, MD