Humans Are A Process
Humans are always more than what they know of themselves. We are not static beings bound by the tidy narratives we spin to feel secure. We are process—squiggly, shifting, tangled up in the living world, shaped by forces seen and unseen.
And yet, how often do we trap ourselves in still frames, like pressed flowers pinned beneath glass? We cast ourselves into some imagined future, reaching for a version of self that may never arrive, or grip tightly to an ideal version of who we think we are or ought to be. We forget that we are porous, that we are caught up in a wild, relational unfolding. That we are not just in the stream—we are the stream, spiralling.
I see it all the time. Clients speaking in absolutes, with hard edges, as if the shape of their being is a foregone conclusion. How earnestly we carry stories that drain the life from us. How quickly we mistake constraint for structure, control for safety. How used we’ve become to the straight lines, the careful categories, the measured pace of a human-techno-industrial world that rewards containment and seeks control.
But this is no time for domestication. This is a time to go feral. To be unspooled. To loosen the grip on who we think we are and let something wilder move through. To welcome Earth back into our bones and sinew, to let our edges blur, let the great humming intelligence of the world remind us who we are. To listen—not simply with the ears of the thinking mind, but with the embedded body, the rooted, relational Self.
We are in process. We always have been. The call is not to arrive, but to re-member. To return to the tangled, living, breathing weave of things.