“I am slowly, painfully discovering that my refuge is not found in my mother, my grandmother, of even the birds of Bear River. My refuge exists in my capacity to love. If I can learn to love death then I can begin to find refuge in change.”
In this quote, Terry Tempest Williams emphasizes the idea that true refuge and peace cannot be found in external sources such as family or nature, but rather within oneself. She suggests that the key to finding solace lies in her capacity to love, specifically her ability to embrace difficulty and change. By learning to love and accept even the inevitability of death, Williams believes she can begin to empower herself to navigate the uncertainty of life. This quote speaks to the powerful transformative nature of love and acceptance in finding inner strength and resilience.
In this quote by Terry Tempest Williams, she reflects on the importance of love and acceptance in finding refuge amidst the inevitable changes of life. Williams suggests that true refuge lies not in external sources like family or nature, but within our own ability to love and embrace the inevitability of change. By learning to love even the concept of death, Williams believes that we can cultivate a sense of peace and resilience in the face of life's uncertainties. This sentiment holds modern relevance as we navigate the ever-changing landscape of the world today.
In the face of change and loss, how do you typically seek refuge? Have you ever found solace in loving something or someone that brings pain or discomfort? How does the idea of loving death as a means of finding refuge challenge or resonate with you? What shifts in mindset or perspective might be necessary in order to find refuge in change rather than resist it?
Terry Tempest Williams makes a profound statement about seeking refuge in love rather than external sources. According to her, true refuge lies in one's ability to love and embrace change, even in the face of death. This quote highlights the transformative power of love and the importance of accepting and adapting to the inevitable changes in life.
“I could not separate the Bird Refuge from my family. Devastation respects no boundaries. The landscape of my childhood and the landscape of my family, the two things I had always regarded as bedrock, were now subject to change. Quicksand.”
“When I said, “I am my mother, but I’m not,” I was saying my path would be my own.”
“I've been thinking about what it means to bear witness. The past ten years I've been bearing witness to death, bearing witness to women I love, and bearing witness to the [nuclear] testing going on in the Nevada desert. I've been bearing witness to bombing runs on the edge of the Cabeza Prieta Wildlife Refuge, bearing witness to the burning of yew trees and their healing secrets in slash piles in the Pacific Northwest and thinking this is not so unlike the burning of witches, who also held knowledge of heading within their bones. I've been bearing witness to traplines of coyotes being poisoned by the Animal Damage Control. And I've been bearing witness to beauty, beauty that strikes a chord so deep you can't stop the tears from flowing. At places as astonishing as Mono Lake, where I've stood knee-deep in salt-water to watch the fresh water of Lee Vining Creek flow over the top like water on vinegar....It's the space of angels. I've been bearing witness to dancing grouse on their leks up at Malheur in Oregon. Bearing witness to both the beauty and pain of our world is a task that I want to be part of. As a writer, this is my work. By bearing witness, the story that is told can provide a healing ground. Through the art of language, the art of story, alchemy can occur. And if we choose to turn our backs, we've walked away from what it means to be human.”
“I write to discover. I write to uncover. I write to meet my ghosts... I write because it is dangerous, a bloody risk, like love, to form the words.”
“I pray to the birds because they remind me of what I love rather than what I fear. And at the end of my prayers, they teach me how to listen.”
“It just may be that the most radical act we can commit is to stay home. What does that mean to finally commit to a place, to a people, to a community?It doesn't mean it's easy, but it does mean you can live with patience, because you're not going to go away. It also means commitment to bear witness, and engaging in 'casserole diplomacy' by sharing food among neighbors, by playing with the children and mending feuds and caring for the sick. These kinds of commitment are real. They are tangible. They are not esoteric or idealistic, but rooted in the bedrock existence of where we choose to maintain our lives.That way we begin to know the predictability of a place. We anticipate a species long before we see them. We can chart the changes, because we have a memory of cycles and seasons; we gain a capacity for both pleasure and pain, and we find the strength within ourselves and each other to hold these lines.That's my definition of family. And that's my definition of love.”