Whole Being: Life Alchemy
Being, Belonging, Becoming
Listen. Notice. Feel.
It started with a walk on an April day in Palm Springs. In that desert community, art and architecture rise from the sand in mid-century modern pastels surrounded by cacti and palm trees. Palm Springs is situated in the shadow of the San Jacinto Mountains in California. The mountain rises so quickly to such a steep slope that it looks like a vertical wall. Everywhere I looked, I felt inspired. I took my camera out from my pocket and started snapping photographs of anything that caught my eye. It helped focus my senses that were starting to go on overload. I took pictures of the cactus, a lizard, flowers, and the palm trees. I even took pictures of interesting doorways and key holes.
This way of walking was different. I was noticing details rather than getting lost in my usual thoughts about all the things I needed to do, grocery lists, or worry about things that had not yet happened and probably wouldn’t. I was present. I not only saw things clearer but I felt more deeply the “beingness” of what I was looking at. I felt the reaction within me and consequently became aware of the relationship. I was part of the beauty around me. Listen. Notice. Feel.
For me, this type of walking is a conversation. It’s relational. This is a form of prayer. These ideas tie in well Amin Maalouf’s idea ofwhat Omar Kayyam might say about prayer.
For Omar Khayyam, prayer is not limited to words or prescribed acts. It is the way one lives, breathes, and interacts with the beauty and challenges of existence. Prayer can be a quiet moment under the stars, a verse of poetry capturing the fleeting nature of life, or even the bold act of questioning societal norms in pursuit of deeper truth. In essence, Omar’s concept of prayer dissolves boundaries, emphasizing connection, sincerity, and peace over mere performance.
This perspective invites us to reimagine prayer as something deeply human—a bridge not only to the divine but also to the essence of oneself and the cosmos. It challenges the idea that prayer must be confined to rigid structures, suggesting instead that it is as vast and varied as the human spirit.
I started to recall the book on walking by Henry David Thoreau.
“I have met with but one or two persons in the course of my life who understood the art of walking, that is, of taking walks, who had a genius, so to speak, for sauntering; which word is beautifully derived "from idle people who roved about the country, in the middle ages, and asked charity, under pretence of going à la sainte terre" — to the holy land, till the children exclaimed, "There goes a sainte-terrer", a saunterer — a holy-lander. They who never go to the holy land in their walks, as they pretend, are indeed mere idlers and vagabonds, but they who do go there are saunterers in the good sense, such as I mean. Some, however, would derive the word from sans terre, without land or a home, which, therefore, in the good sense, will mean, having no particular home, but equally at home everywhere. For this is the secret of successful sauntering. He who sits still in a house all the time may be the greatest vagrant of all, but the Saunterer, in the good sense, is no more vagrant than the meandering river, which is all the while sedulously seeking the shortest course to the sea. But I prefer the first, which indeed is the most probable derivation. For every walk is a sort of crusade, preached by some Peter the Hermit in us, to go forth and reconquer this holy land from the hands of the Infidels.” –H.D. Thoreau
Walking as prayer or walking as meditation is a practice that can be considered process-relational. In his book, “Walking Meditation,” Thich Naht Hanh explains that it is the awareness of every step that helps to cultivate mindfulness, and an appreciation that the present moment is enough. Thich Naht Hanh teaches us to “cultivate gratitude and love for the earth through your feet as you walk.”
This type of walking felt healing. I recall the Japanese practice of shinrin-yoku, or “forest bathing.” Which began as a physiological and psychological exercise to offer an eco-antidote to stress and to inspire the Japanese people to reconnect with and protect the country’s forests. Shinrin-yoku involves using your senses to notice your surroundings. For example, this may include noticing the different colors and patterns of leaves; noticing the sound of water trickling over stones in its path; viewing a squirrel scamper up a tree or finding a "sit spot" from which to observe nature; smelling soil and decomposing leaves; listening to the sound of the wind through the trees, or bird song; or noticing textures by touching bark, rocks and leaves. Listen. Notice. Feel.
This skill came at the right time for my new career path in hospice chaplaincy. I must notice everything because the state of the home, the appearance of the patient and family members tell so much. Is the caregiver exhausted? Is the patient well cared for? Are they loved?
I look around the house. What matters to them? I don’t take notes because I want to give my undivided attention. I don’t look away so I must remember everything that is said. I listen with every cell in my body. We have the ability to do that. We can listen with our whole selves and “feel” another person’s soul. This is because we are relational beings. Listen. Notice. Be aware. Be mindful.
I often hear the question, what is the point of process thinking outside of a classroom? I have also heard the criticism that process thinkers talk a lot about process philosophy but don’t actually live process philosophy. Whenever someone in the process community asked the question how do you practice process theology, I know that is not the right question. The question is not about “practice”. It’s about awareness. It’s not something we do, it’s something we recognize. It’s something we feel.
“Always hold fast to the present. Every situation, indeed every moment, is of infinite value, for it is the representative of a whole eternity.” –Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
I have started to notice a process-relational experience throughout my life. In my study of Japanese Tea Ceremony, we cultivate awareness. The tea ceremony is a relational experience. The host must have her guest.
I play my flute for the birds and watch their curiosity. I rescue a shy, scared dog and watch her personality begin to bloom. I feed nuts to the scrub jays and now they follow me around whenever I’m outside in the garden. I listen deeply to one of my dying patients and they feel loved.
Once you understand, you feel it all around you.
It's not a practice, it's an awareness. It's a recognition and appreciation. It's a long sauntering walk, a deep rejuvenating breath, a gentle soothing touch. Listen. Notice. Feel
The Reverend Dr. Kathleen Rose holds a Doctorate in Clinical Pastoral Psychotherapy and a Master of Divinity. Her areas of focus are thanatology and Process Philosophy. Kathleen is an ordained interfaith minister. She currently works as a board certified healthcare chaplain, and as an Eco Chaplain. Kathleen is also student of Japanese Tea Ceremony through the international Chado Urasenke Tankokai associations of the Urasenke School in Kyoto, Japan. Kathleen Reeves is a published poet, and writer. She is a philosopher and a ponderer