A lot of people who hear about Animism might say, "Well you are just putting human attributes on non-human things."
How do people learn anything? How do infants learn language? When you meet a new person, for that matter, how do you learn about them as a person? You stretch from what you know to what you don't know. Infants build up from sounds and gestures and contexts that are accessible to them just by virtue of being alive to the mechanics of saying words that they have learned, or sounds that they have learned, and building up to grasp things they did not previously know. When you are meeting a new person, especially if there is a language or cultural barrier, you build up from things that everyone understands just by virtue of being human. Of course this process of "knowing" is not purely a verbal or conceptual matter, but also a matter of these two bodies becoming attuned on a more fundamental level. You will sometimes find two people who become good friends starting to attune their language, their voices and their gestures to each other: this nonverbal communication is a critical part of the relationship even if the people involved don't realize or think about it. Similarly, when two friends who have been far away from one another meet again, it takes awhile for them to become attuned to each other again - this is primarily a non-verbal communication. Their bodies learning each other again. This is one reason why pets are so popular, because there aren't any human language issues or intellectual or ideological conflicts to get in the way of getting attuned to your pet (and vice-versa) directly. So we just get along better with them in a lot of ways. ;)
Finding similarities, or at least a common way of communicating, is basic to learning. If all you ever see or think about or concern yourself with however is the part of the other being that is like you, that would be anthropomorphic. It would be worse than anthropomorphic however to see a tree, for instance, as only its scientifically anatomized qualities. That is forcing the tree to fit a very Western human intellectual template for how it is supposed to exist, and if you only relate to that tree in that way, you truly will never know it as anything like what it is. That's even narrower than merely being anthropomorphic, that's being ratio-morphic. You only see the tree as its mathematical properties and forget the real living entity. That would be like treating a human friend as only a series of position statements, purchasing decisions, browser history, work skills and medical history. You wouldn't do that, or at least I hope you wouldn't.
How do people learn anything? How do infants learn language? When you meet a new person, for that matter, how do you learn about them as a person? You stretch from what you know to what you don't know. Infants build up from sounds and gestures and contexts that are accessible to them just by virtue of being alive to the mechanics of saying words that they have learned, or sounds that they have learned, and building up to grasp things they did not previously know. When you are meeting a new person, especially if there is a language or cultural barrier, you build up from things that everyone understands just by virtue of being human. Of course this process of "knowing" is not purely a verbal or conceptual matter, but also a matter of these two bodies becoming attuned on a more fundamental level. You will sometimes find two people who become good friends starting to attune their language, their voices and their gestures to each other: this nonverbal communication is a critical part of the relationship even if the people involved don't realize or think about it. Similarly, when two friends who have been far away from one another meet again, it takes awhile for them to become attuned to each other again - this is primarily a non-verbal communication. Their bodies learning each other again. This is one reason why pets are so popular, because there aren't any human language issues or intellectual or ideological conflicts to get in the way of getting attuned to your pet (and vice-versa) directly. So we just get along better with them in a lot of ways. ;)
Finding similarities, or at least a common way of communicating, is basic to learning. If all you ever see or think about or concern yourself with however is the part of the other being that is like you, that would be anthropomorphic. It would be worse than anthropomorphic however to see a tree, for instance, as only its scientifically anatomized qualities. That is forcing the tree to fit a very Western human intellectual template for how it is supposed to exist, and if you only relate to that tree in that way, you truly will never know it as anything like what it is. That's even narrower than merely being anthropomorphic, that's being ratio-morphic. You only see the tree as its mathematical properties and forget the real living entity. That would be like treating a human friend as only a series of position statements, purchasing decisions, browser history, work skills and medical history. You wouldn't do that, or at least I hope you wouldn't.
So yes, Animism is anthropomorphic in that sense, that you have to build up any relationship from common ground in some way or another. If you only stay with what you already know though, you aren't really trying to get to know the other but just confirming your own prejudices about them.
* * *
In somewhat related matters, I have been trying to identify the species of trees around my house. Shame though it is for me to say, I knew the names of maybe half of them: oak, pecan, red cedar, chinaberry, and of course the fig tree that my dad planted. I knew that Dad called the big tree in the back yard (and the others of its kind around) hackberries, but I didn't know whether he was right or what that really meant. So I have been trying to identify the species of all the trees about, which again is a very "anthropomorphic" or "ratio-morphic" way of understanding something, but it is a start and I like to know the trees history with humans or whether humans have used it for wood or whether it is native here.
The tree that I talked about in "Half-Dead Tree" is some sort of sycamore, but the leaves aren't precisely like pictures I have seen of American sycamores or London plane trees. The hackberry trees which are plentiful around here are related to hops and cannibis, and the dry leaves do in fact smell much like pot when burned. Their only human use is really shade, the wood is soft and easily decomposes. We have a cedar elm in the back yard, the first totally unidentified (to me) tree that I identified using online leaf guides. Of course I am well familiar with the many pecan trees around here, and my favorite red cedar next to the driveway.
While I am doing all this rational activity about the trees though, I am also getting to know them on more of a body level. There is a red cedar in the back yard which I have always held special regard for. I went up to it a couple nights ago to "feel" it's various trunks, and got a bit of a surprise. The tree, which I have always regarded as one tree although it has several trunks coming up from the ground, "feels like" two trees. The trunks nearest the driveway, which I think is the tree that I have always interacted with in the past, feels more open and friendly. One trunk towards the back however feels quite different, and very interesting. Not as welcoming, or perhaps sterner, but I was getting some really strong impressions from it. A tremendous sense of rootedness, age, the feeling that it was permanent and the rest of us and the houses and people and everything were just passing fancies. Sort of an "axis mundi" feeling, I can now understand better the Norse idea of the world-tree. Masculine, a sort of tobacco-like smell to it. Standing at its base and looking up to its tip, I had the feeling like I was transported to the time before the white man was even here. He was here, though. Red cedar can live to be 800 years old. This particular one could easily be 200 or 300 years old. Older than the white man's presence here certainly. To me, part of how you know that you aren't simply anthropomorphizing the tree but learning about it is whether the tree surprises you, does what you do not expect, and this one did. Awhile back I took a sprig of needles from the "friendly" side of the tree and did not ask, and I got the distinct impression that it was irritated with me for doing that (which is understandable). I tried to make some amends by watering the tree, which it did not necessarily need since its roots undoubtedly go exceedingly deep and cedars (red cedar is actually a juniper not a cedar) are survivors in poor conditions, poor soils and droughts. I learned a bit from my mistake and when I needed a leaf from the cedar elm in order to identify it, I did ask first. I took the leaf from a sort of less healthy branch. The top of the leaves are very sandpapery, kind of remarkably so. I included the elm in my sort of haphazard watering regime as thanks.
Am I anthropomorphizing these trees, or getting to know these trees? I personally think I am getting to know them, but your mileage may vary. ;) It can be extremely hard for most people to extricate their desires and motives and fantasies from their experience and not simply see what they want to see. When I embarked on this journey, this was the first thing I asked of the spirits: "I want to be able to see you as you are, not as what I think you are or want you to be." A prayer worthy of frequent repetition.
* * *
In somewhat related matters, I have been trying to identify the species of trees around my house. Shame though it is for me to say, I knew the names of maybe half of them: oak, pecan, red cedar, chinaberry, and of course the fig tree that my dad planted. I knew that Dad called the big tree in the back yard (and the others of its kind around) hackberries, but I didn't know whether he was right or what that really meant. So I have been trying to identify the species of all the trees about, which again is a very "anthropomorphic" or "ratio-morphic" way of understanding something, but it is a start and I like to know the trees history with humans or whether humans have used it for wood or whether it is native here.
The tree that I talked about in "Half-Dead Tree" is some sort of sycamore, but the leaves aren't precisely like pictures I have seen of American sycamores or London plane trees. The hackberry trees which are plentiful around here are related to hops and cannibis, and the dry leaves do in fact smell much like pot when burned. Their only human use is really shade, the wood is soft and easily decomposes. We have a cedar elm in the back yard, the first totally unidentified (to me) tree that I identified using online leaf guides. Of course I am well familiar with the many pecan trees around here, and my favorite red cedar next to the driveway.
While I am doing all this rational activity about the trees though, I am also getting to know them on more of a body level. There is a red cedar in the back yard which I have always held special regard for. I went up to it a couple nights ago to "feel" it's various trunks, and got a bit of a surprise. The tree, which I have always regarded as one tree although it has several trunks coming up from the ground, "feels like" two trees. The trunks nearest the driveway, which I think is the tree that I have always interacted with in the past, feels more open and friendly. One trunk towards the back however feels quite different, and very interesting. Not as welcoming, or perhaps sterner, but I was getting some really strong impressions from it. A tremendous sense of rootedness, age, the feeling that it was permanent and the rest of us and the houses and people and everything were just passing fancies. Sort of an "axis mundi" feeling, I can now understand better the Norse idea of the world-tree. Masculine, a sort of tobacco-like smell to it. Standing at its base and looking up to its tip, I had the feeling like I was transported to the time before the white man was even here. He was here, though. Red cedar can live to be 800 years old. This particular one could easily be 200 or 300 years old. Older than the white man's presence here certainly. To me, part of how you know that you aren't simply anthropomorphizing the tree but learning about it is whether the tree surprises you, does what you do not expect, and this one did. Awhile back I took a sprig of needles from the "friendly" side of the tree and did not ask, and I got the distinct impression that it was irritated with me for doing that (which is understandable). I tried to make some amends by watering the tree, which it did not necessarily need since its roots undoubtedly go exceedingly deep and cedars (red cedar is actually a juniper not a cedar) are survivors in poor conditions, poor soils and droughts. I learned a bit from my mistake and when I needed a leaf from the cedar elm in order to identify it, I did ask first. I took the leaf from a sort of less healthy branch. The top of the leaves are very sandpapery, kind of remarkably so. I included the elm in my sort of haphazard watering regime as thanks.
Am I anthropomorphizing these trees, or getting to know these trees? I personally think I am getting to know them, but your mileage may vary. ;) It can be extremely hard for most people to extricate their desires and motives and fantasies from their experience and not simply see what they want to see. When I embarked on this journey, this was the first thing I asked of the spirits: "I want to be able to see you as you are, not as what I think you are or want you to be." A prayer worthy of frequent repetition.
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