Elicia Johnson

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An Essay on the Interwoven Universe

I have often felt like something of an oddball. And perhaps the unspoken judgment is quite true, though I find that I mind less and less as time goes on and, more importantly, as I grow as a human. Some things matter to me that don’t seem to matter to very many other people. And I see things in ways that are often misunderstood. I think if I’d grown up a couple of decades later, I would have been labeled as something. But I don’t want a label, no matter how much I appreciate the relevant memes.

It’s awfully risky to try and make you understand one such topic. Even if you don’t quite feel how I feel, it might at least confirm that yes, this author is (ahem) different.

As I walked back from feeding the sheep the other day, I thought about how everything is connected. Around me, the poplar trees and other plants on our farm have drawn in all their life to their roots, hoarding it away to survive the winter. The way the water cycle changes through the seasons, storing up snow (hopefully, prayerfully) for the spring ahead. The more we tamper with the weather, water and nourishment in our soil, the more it reflects in our foods and bodies. Because it’s all connected.

And further, how is it that my doctor can diagnose me as accurately as any lab test by pushing, pulling and prodding my musculature? How is it that she can draw answers from my body regarding nutrient deficiencies with a simple muscle test? Connectivity. Frequencies, flow, energy, life, water, genetics, breath… the western world has largely ignored the interwoven nature of these things for too long.

Recent Inktober drawing of the Sawtooth Ridge.

Maybe you roll your eyes, or maybe you’re uncomfortable with where I might be going, especially if you’re a Christian. Much of the church world throws the label “new age” at health practices that have been in use for thousands upon thousands of years. Let’s not even start with the drugs & chemicals they’ll willingly ingest to avoid anything that might be associated with evil.

Every time a holiday rolls around, we see prime examples of this—the battle between what is pagan, what is “Christian,” and what might be neither but simply not our own culture and therefore, difficult to understand. If other, sometimes pagan, cultures celebrated a season, a thinning of the veil, a passing of life, or an act of Nature, then it was God who created it in the first place. Evil things are done all across this earth, but it is done by hijacking that which God called good.

We can feel (some of us better than others, I’ve learned) the tension in a room, the chip on someone’s shoulder, the desperation in parched land, the illness in an animal before it shows, the storm before it hits…How? We’re all connected more than we realize. And whatever it is that connects it all, energy, frequency or the Spirit of God himself, He called it good.

As I’ve explored one of those rabbit holes that few others seem interested in, I found myself being understood in a way I’d never been before. It turns out the bulk of my ancestors felt and thought much like I do. They never doubted the mysteries of the unseen and yet it didn’t hinder their recognizing who the loving Creator of all of it was and is. There it is, another thread of connection weaving in and out of generations.

How have I been such a weirdo basically from birth? Why is it that you can take a child out of his home, family and culture and he can still turn out just like his parents? Or when immigrant families do their best to act and look like the people in their new land, how do their children often end up just like their grandparents even if they never knew them? Sometimes, this cycle of just blend in and then honor the old ways continues for many generations, as astutely pointed out by Maureen Dezell in her book Coming Into Clover.

Although these thoughts are often met with confused looks by people of Northern European descent, I think they are worth dwelling on. If my mood affects my household (as canonized in the idiom “If mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.”) isn’t it worthwhile to get up and seek love, peace and light in the morning? The connectivity of our world and its past and future demands that I choose wisely how I farm, raise my children, and speak love and light over them and others in my community.

There are those who would seek to destroy and abuse the systems and interwoven life that God created. Regardless of who our world's political leaders are, there will always be those causing harm. Whether or not you feel the need to be politically vocal, you can make the greatest differences closest to home. We can consider whether our habits and rhythms are in line with God’s plan to make all things new. Are we raising our children to be light-bringers and life-speakers? We don’t have to worship the earth to strive to leave her better than we found her. It behooves us and our children to contemplate these things and act accordingly.

Does any of this make sense? Sometimes, the idea of all the universe interwoven in some multidimensional tapestry threatens to overwhelm me. If you’ve read this far, maybe this resonates with you at least a little. That or you love me enough to have pushed through. Either way, you have your confirmation that I have some real “beautiful mind” moments. Thanks for sticking this one out.

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