Message given at Durham Friends Meeting, August 15, 2025, by Lisa Steele-Maley
Each summer, I noodle over the idea ~ and the experience ~ of Interdependence.
I know this is spurred on by a desire to create counterbalance to the annual celebration of independence every July and I suspect it is sustained by watching the plants and insects of the garden interact with each other and the waxing and waning of sun, rain, and wind.
I, perhaps like many of you, was raised in a family and culture that values independence. As I have grown older, I have seen how the idea of independence creates a separation that contributes to environmental and human exploitation, consumerism, competition, overwork, and dominion over creation rather than responsibility to it.
The ideal of independence also keeps us from asking for help, leaning on friends, and fostering community, no doubt helping to create the epidemic of loneliness.
To be fair, Independence does have its place – it allowed this country to originally become independent from the greed and control of a ruler king. It allows children to grow up and into their own lives. Because we are independent, we make up our own minds on matters of moral and ethical consequence. We love. We dream. We create. We can, in fact, choose to live our way toward a more whole, just, and loving world.
But independence also creates a scar. You have heard of the idea of original sin? I think of separation as our original wound… and many of the wounds we experience in our lives and inflict on others stem from that original hurt.
Interdependence is our true nature. Our brief lives on this Earth are truly interwoven, intermingled, and interconnected with all other beings throughout time and space….
We can not actually be independent of each other. We are wholly interdependent on each other, on the Earth that sustains us, and on a holy living truth that is greater than ourselves. Whether they name this unifying divinity God, Buddha Mind, Universal spirit, Brahman, Pachamama, or Holy Mystery, most traditions point to a sacred that is both immanent (within us) and transcendent (all around us).
It is this holy weaving ~ around, within, above, below, and between that assures and reminds me that we inter-are.
Inter-are comes from the word inter-being, coined by the buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh. He says “ I was looking for an English word to describe our deep interconnection with everything else. I liked the word “togetherness,” but I finally came up with the word “interbeing.” The verb “to be” can be misleading, because we cannot be by ourselves, alone. “To be” is always to “inter-be.” If we combine the prefix “inter” with the verb “to be,” we have a new verb, “inter-be.” To inter-be and the action of interbeing reflects reality more accurately. We inter-are with one another and with all life.” This concept of interbeing really gives our American minds, bred on independence, something to chew on.
It is in letting this concept integrate into my body and heart that I can really live into it, creating a counterpoint for my mind that can get stuck in habitual loops that reinforce the myth of separation.
In our bodies, we have no choice but to know that we inter-are. After all, we require air every minute, water and food each day. The living, breathing world quite literally sustains us.
We breathe in because our bodies require oxygen. We breathe out carbon dioxide. Trees take in the carbon dioxide that we exhale and release oxygen. We are co-breathing with trees all of the time. This is perhaps the simplest and most profound example of interdependence that I both know and also pay little attention to most of the time.
But paying attention to the many ways that I am in fact connected to All That Is has been particularly helpful this summer amidst the fullness and frantic pace of the news cycle that keeps my lizard brain on high alert.
Paying attention with my whole body, letting my senses inform and bless me re-members me to my true belonging to this living world. I don’t need to do anything to be worthy of it. It is simply already true.
I’ve had the opportunity to swim a bit this summer. Every time I get in the water, I lay back and float for a while, feeling the water hold and suspend me while the sun warms my face. It’s been really nourishing to remind myself that I am always this supported.
During a humid morning a few weeks ago, I was startled by the intoxicating dream-like fragrance of the blooming milkweed. I smelled it before I saw it. As I drank in the smell, I noted that the flowers are offering themselves to the pollinators of the insect world and I am an adjacent beneficiary. Later that day, when I noticed the monarch butterflies fluttering from stalk to stalk, my body recalled the morning’s fragrance. I could actually feel the butterfly’s attraction to the flowers as an expansion in my own heart.
I said a minute ago that I don’t have to do anything to be fully integrated in the web of connection. That is true, and it is also true that I can actively work to tend and weave the web of connectivity with my actions and sacred imagination.
When I introduce one friend to another, I am weaving a web of connection by bringing together two people whose lives may be enriched by knowing each other. When I usher a fly out of my house instead of swatting at it, I am supporting and enhancing the life of another being. When Leslie broke her ankle and put out a call for help, she was building new strands of connection. When I responded to her invitation, I reinforced the integrity of the web. We are co-weaving with one another.
We are, in fact, always giving and always receiving. As I attune to interbeing in this season, I recognize reciprocity everywhere. As Robin wall Kimmerer says, “All Flourishing is Mutual”
A few nights ago, the night was humid when I laid down for sleep. The window beside the bed was open but the air felt still and the night sky was silent. It was calm. Peaceful. Yet, as I lay there, a thought intruded, “this is the kind of night that bombs are dropped on.”
I brought my hand to my suddenly racing heart. (Studies have shown that this simple touch activates the vagus nerve which plays a role in regulating the nervous system.) My thoughts went to far away lands – to Gaza, Ukraine, Yemen, and Iran – and it felt abundantly clear that the safety that I was enjoying in that moment was not guaranteed. It does not have to be this way and it can change in a heartbeat.
Laying in bed with my hand over my heart, I let my sacred imagination weave a connection to another mother in another land, a mother laying in bed with fear in her heart, and hunger in her belly as the night sky rang with the sounds of destruction.
I prayed with her for peace, for the safety of her children, for space to grieve the immense losses that she has already suffered. I prayed that she might wake to a quiet sky and a table graced with fruit and bread to nourish her family. I prayed that the planet will recover from the devastating pollution and destruction of war. I prayed that humanity will someday heal from this violent separation that is created by distinguishing “us” and “them”. As I drifted from prayer toward sleep, I felt a touch of peace born of connection and faith.
In just a few minutes, laying in bed, I moved from isolation and desolation to profound connection and peace. It is all so much bigger than I can know.
I’d like to close with the words of Joanna Macy, a brilliant thinker and activist who developed the Work that Reconnects. She died on July 19 of this year at the age of 96.
Trusting the Spiral
Active Hope is not wishful thinking.
Active hope is not waiting to be rescued
By the Lone Ranger or by some savior.
Active Hope is waking up to the beauty of life
On whose behalf we can act.
We belong to this world.
The web of life is calling us forth at this time.
We’ve come a long way and are here to play our part.
With Active Hope, we realize that there are adventures in store,
Strengths to discover, and comrades to link arms with.
Active hope is a readiness to discover the strengths
In ourselves and in others;
A readiness to discover the reasons for hope
And the occasions for love.
A readiness to discover the size and strength of our hearts,
Our quickness of mind, our steadiness of purpose,
Our own authority, our love for life,
The liveliness of our curiosity,
The unsuspected deep well of patience and diligence,
The keenness of our senses, and our capacity to lead.
None of these can be discovered in an armchair or without risk.
– excerpted from Active Hope by Joanna Macy and Chris Johnstone
