Zooburbia: Meditations on the Wild Animals Among Us
Autor Tai Mosesen Limba Engleză Paperback – 19 mai 2014
To be alienated from animals is to live a life that is not quite whole, contends nature writer Tai Moses in Zooburbia. Urban and suburban residents share our environments with many types of wildlife: squirrels, birds, spiders, and increasingly lizards, deer, and coyote. Many of us crave more contact with wild creatures, and recognize the small and large ways animals enrich our lives, yet don’t notice the animals already around us.
Zooburbia reveals the reverence that can be felt in the presence of animals and shows how that reverence connects us to a deeper, better part of ourselves. A lively blend of memoir, natural history, and mindfulness practices, Zooburbia makes the case for being mindful and compassionate stewards — and students — of the wildlife with whom we coexist. With lessons on industriousness, perseverance, presence, exuberance, gratitude, aging, how to let go, and much more, Tai's vignettes share the happy fact that none of us is alone — our teachers are right in front of us. We need only go outdoors to find a rapport with the animal kingdom. Zooburbia is a magnifying lens turned to our everyday environment.
Zooburbia reveals the reverence that can be felt in the presence of animals and shows how that reverence connects us to a deeper, better part of ourselves. A lively blend of memoir, natural history, and mindfulness practices, Zooburbia makes the case for being mindful and compassionate stewards — and students — of the wildlife with whom we coexist. With lessons on industriousness, perseverance, presence, exuberance, gratitude, aging, how to let go, and much more, Tai's vignettes share the happy fact that none of us is alone — our teachers are right in front of us. We need only go outdoors to find a rapport with the animal kingdom. Zooburbia is a magnifying lens turned to our everyday environment.
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Specificații
ISBN-13: 9781937006679
ISBN-10: 1937006670
Pagini: 264
Dimensiuni: 150 x 226 x 20 mm
Greutate: 0.43 kg
Editura: Parallax Press
ISBN-10: 1937006670
Pagini: 264
Dimensiuni: 150 x 226 x 20 mm
Greutate: 0.43 kg
Editura: Parallax Press
Recenzii
One of O the Oprah Magazine's “Ten Titles to Pick Up Now” for May 2014
"Warm, charming and thoughtful, Tai Moses’ Zooburbia: Meditations on the Wild Animals Among Us draws the reader into the wider world, channeling the author’s own experiences to encourage both compassion and attention to the animals who share our spaces."—Animal Sheltering, The magazine of the Humane Association of the United States
“Something inside Tai Moses burns a little brighter when animals are around…. She shows how when we pay more attention to the furry and feathered beasts around us, we’re better off.”—Mindful
"Journalist Moses shares her joy in coexisting with the wild creatures around her… A light, pleasing meditation on the joy of mindfully observing nature.”—Kirkus Reviews
"...Affirming essays that concern lessons on mindfulness, such as her story of a reflective ride on an Icelandic horse. Moses captures 'the human desire to form an emotional bond with other creatures' and its nuanced shades of both glory and misery."—Publishers Weekly
"Moses writes in an engaging style of prose, applying self-deprecating humor, righteous anger, or even Zen philosophy as the material requires. She describes nature and animals beautifully and simply. This is the memoir of a writer who has put real thought into how she relates to the natural world, and readers will find those thoughts worth considering."—Foreword
"Meet your neighbors! Zooburbia serves as a fine introduction to some of the most interesting creatures you're likely to encounter."—Bill McKibben, Eaarth and The End of Nature
“I would buy this lovely book for the sentiments, for the illustrations, and for this sentence alone: ‘The mole is the most misunderstood of animals. Living alone in the gloom of darkness, unsociable and virtually sightless, the mole never gets a chance to set the record straight.’”—Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson, When Elephants Weep and Dogs Never Lie About Love
"In Zooburbia, Tai Moses writes with great power and imagination about an urban wildlife corridor where humans and animals overlap. This is a poetics of suburbia—of animals flying above us, sharing our houses, gardens and streets. Zooburbia will delight readers who love language and stay with them long after they’ve finished reading. There is something contagious about Moses’s joy and the mindful attention she brings to her encounters with animals. Zooburbia shows us that what we consider ordinary is actually an enchanted kingdom." —Thaisa Frank, Enchantment and Heidegger’s Glasses
"While Zooburbia shares an extraordinary glimpse into the natural world, it even more brilliantly gives you insight into the human condition, and through the eyes, mind, and heart of one of the most thoughtful, passionate, and perceptive humans you will ever encounter."—Thom Hartmann, The Last Hours of Ancient Sunlight
"With moving anecdotes and incisive knowledge Tai Moses uncovers the natural world within our urban landscape. What a relief for us city dwellers, to know that wilderness is all around, resilient and beautiful, if only we would peer a little closer. While these plants and animals cannot offer flour or hold the extra house key, Moses shows us with humor and pathos that they are among the best of our neighbors. After reading Zooburbia I see my back garden anew, as not just a place for me, but a haven and a home to insects, birds, raccoons and possums. This book is a delight."—Caroline Paul, Lost Cat
"Wise, witty, compelling, and true, each of these closely-observed essays is a perfect gem! Thank you, Tai Moses, for showing us the blessings our animal teachers give us in wild abundance, right in our own backyards."—Sy Montgomery, The Good Good Pig and Journey of the Pink Dolphins
"Zooburbia has the power to quietly change the way you see the world. On every page, Tai Moses offers readers a way to reinterpret the ordinary, revealing that the world we humans have built is an even stranger place than we imagined, yet she reminds us of the beauty that lies beneath our human bumbling. This is a strange and beautiful book—a book about animals that is really a book about being a person."—Robert Jensen, Arguing for Our Lives
"Zooburbia is a loving encounter between an animal adventure story, a Buddhist scripture, and Winnie the Pooh that serves to remind us we are among sentient beings here on Earth."—Chellis Glendinning, My Name Is Chellis and I´m in Recovery from Western Civilization
"Warm, charming and thoughtful, Tai Moses’ Zooburbia: Meditations on the Wild Animals Among Us draws the reader into the wider world, channeling the author’s own experiences to encourage both compassion and attention to the animals who share our spaces."—Animal Sheltering, The magazine of the Humane Association of the United States
“Something inside Tai Moses burns a little brighter when animals are around…. She shows how when we pay more attention to the furry and feathered beasts around us, we’re better off.”—Mindful
"Journalist Moses shares her joy in coexisting with the wild creatures around her… A light, pleasing meditation on the joy of mindfully observing nature.”—Kirkus Reviews
"...Affirming essays that concern lessons on mindfulness, such as her story of a reflective ride on an Icelandic horse. Moses captures 'the human desire to form an emotional bond with other creatures' and its nuanced shades of both glory and misery."—Publishers Weekly
"Moses writes in an engaging style of prose, applying self-deprecating humor, righteous anger, or even Zen philosophy as the material requires. She describes nature and animals beautifully and simply. This is the memoir of a writer who has put real thought into how she relates to the natural world, and readers will find those thoughts worth considering."—Foreword
"Meet your neighbors! Zooburbia serves as a fine introduction to some of the most interesting creatures you're likely to encounter."—Bill McKibben, Eaarth and The End of Nature
“I would buy this lovely book for the sentiments, for the illustrations, and for this sentence alone: ‘The mole is the most misunderstood of animals. Living alone in the gloom of darkness, unsociable and virtually sightless, the mole never gets a chance to set the record straight.’”—Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson, When Elephants Weep and Dogs Never Lie About Love
"In Zooburbia, Tai Moses writes with great power and imagination about an urban wildlife corridor where humans and animals overlap. This is a poetics of suburbia—of animals flying above us, sharing our houses, gardens and streets. Zooburbia will delight readers who love language and stay with them long after they’ve finished reading. There is something contagious about Moses’s joy and the mindful attention she brings to her encounters with animals. Zooburbia shows us that what we consider ordinary is actually an enchanted kingdom." —Thaisa Frank, Enchantment and Heidegger’s Glasses
"While Zooburbia shares an extraordinary glimpse into the natural world, it even more brilliantly gives you insight into the human condition, and through the eyes, mind, and heart of one of the most thoughtful, passionate, and perceptive humans you will ever encounter."—Thom Hartmann, The Last Hours of Ancient Sunlight
"With moving anecdotes and incisive knowledge Tai Moses uncovers the natural world within our urban landscape. What a relief for us city dwellers, to know that wilderness is all around, resilient and beautiful, if only we would peer a little closer. While these plants and animals cannot offer flour or hold the extra house key, Moses shows us with humor and pathos that they are among the best of our neighbors. After reading Zooburbia I see my back garden anew, as not just a place for me, but a haven and a home to insects, birds, raccoons and possums. This book is a delight."—Caroline Paul, Lost Cat
"Wise, witty, compelling, and true, each of these closely-observed essays is a perfect gem! Thank you, Tai Moses, for showing us the blessings our animal teachers give us in wild abundance, right in our own backyards."—Sy Montgomery, The Good Good Pig and Journey of the Pink Dolphins
"Zooburbia has the power to quietly change the way you see the world. On every page, Tai Moses offers readers a way to reinterpret the ordinary, revealing that the world we humans have built is an even stranger place than we imagined, yet she reminds us of the beauty that lies beneath our human bumbling. This is a strange and beautiful book—a book about animals that is really a book about being a person."—Robert Jensen, Arguing for Our Lives
"Zooburbia is a loving encounter between an animal adventure story, a Buddhist scripture, and Winnie the Pooh that serves to remind us we are among sentient beings here on Earth."—Chellis Glendinning, My Name Is Chellis and I´m in Recovery from Western Civilization
Extras
The Mindfulness Bull
To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.—Mary Oliver
I've always been a great daydreamer. I woolgather, I mind-wander, I don't pay attention to what's going on around me. Once I was making tea, leaning against the stove and waiting for the kettle to boil. It took me a few moments to notice the flames licking at my shirttail. My thoughts were in one world, while my body, even ablaze, was in another.
Minor mishaps like that were not infrequent in my life. I burned toast and overflowed the bathtub; I missed my train stop or freeway exit. Yet I couldn’t give up daydreaming: there was so much to think about and imagine in the playground of my mind.
Then, one day in early spring, I went for a ramble in a regional park up in the foothills. I was wandering through a grassy valley, adrift in a pleasant reverie, when I came upon a herd of cows grazing along the path. A large glossy black cow raised its head and looked at me, but I continued to stroll absentmindedly down the path. When I was a few cow's nose-lengths from the black cow, it dawned on me that this was not a cow at all, but a bull.
The bull, now undeniably a bull, lowered his head, pawed the ground, and two cartoon puffs of steam issued from his nostrils. His breath smelled herbaceous and slightly malty, as if he had been drinking beer along with his grass. I froze. I racked my brain trying to remember what to do when faced with an irate bull. Was I supposed to make myself appear larger by shouting and waving my arms around? Or should I try to seem smaller, perhaps even play dead? Should I climb a tree, dive into a river, run like hell? Then I thought, I'll just sidle by, he won't even notice me. I took one cautious step forward. The bull sashayed over—I was amazed at how quickly this massive animal could move—and butted me in the side, and I bounced across the path as effortlessly as a pebble.
Heart hammering, I scrambled to my feet and scurried away down the path. I looked over my shoulder to see if the bull was in pursuit, but he was ignoring me, enthusiastically cropping the grass where I had been standing. A thought went through my mind as clearly as if a voice had spoken in my ear: Wake up! And at that moment, I did feel remarkably, spectacularly awake. Adrenaline can have that effect on a person. The grass looked greener, the sky more cerulean. Had birdsong always sounded this melodious? Had acorns always had this marvelous conical shape, this satiny shell? Fully awake and engaged in the present moment, I felt like a new kind of animal: a mindful one. The bull had shaken and awakened me into a heightened state of awareness and it felt…wonderful.
I looked back at the herd. Some of the cows were settled down on the grass chewing their cud and gazing off into the middle distance, though I knew they were also alert and watchful, aware of any danger that might come their way. They were ruminating—consciously. I thought of the way my dog sometimes lays on the couch in a sphinx-like posture, her paws crossed in front of her, eyes half-closed, ears pricked. She appears to be dozing, yet her senses are fully engaged. Cats spend hours in the same intermediate state, projecting a sense of absolute calm while remaining intently aware of their environment. Maybe this wasn't so different from the mindfulness that humans practice. Perhaps human mindfulness was an attempt to model the observant yet meditative states so many animals slip into naturally when they are at rest.
In meditation classes they ring a bell to signal the beginning and ending of a meditation session. Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh says the sound of the bell is the Buddha's way of reminding us to come home to ourselves—in other words, to bring our attention into the present moment. "You have an appointment with life—you should not miss it," he says. "The time and the space of your appoint¬ment is the here and the now. If you are not available to life, then life will not be available to you." He says anything can be a mindfulness bell: the ringing of a phone, the barking of a dog, a traffic light—even, I suppose, a two-ton bull.
I felt grateful to the bull who had knocked me over and brought me home to myself. The bull had actually shown great restraint, using no more force than necessary to remove me from his salad bar. Every day I try to practice conscious rumination—my beastly form of mindfulness. Someday, I hope to be as skilled as the bull, standing calmly in the shade, swishing his tail at the flies, chewing his cud and ruminating on his inner world, aware of all that is within and all that is without.
To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.—Mary Oliver
I've always been a great daydreamer. I woolgather, I mind-wander, I don't pay attention to what's going on around me. Once I was making tea, leaning against the stove and waiting for the kettle to boil. It took me a few moments to notice the flames licking at my shirttail. My thoughts were in one world, while my body, even ablaze, was in another.
Minor mishaps like that were not infrequent in my life. I burned toast and overflowed the bathtub; I missed my train stop or freeway exit. Yet I couldn’t give up daydreaming: there was so much to think about and imagine in the playground of my mind.
Then, one day in early spring, I went for a ramble in a regional park up in the foothills. I was wandering through a grassy valley, adrift in a pleasant reverie, when I came upon a herd of cows grazing along the path. A large glossy black cow raised its head and looked at me, but I continued to stroll absentmindedly down the path. When I was a few cow's nose-lengths from the black cow, it dawned on me that this was not a cow at all, but a bull.
The bull, now undeniably a bull, lowered his head, pawed the ground, and two cartoon puffs of steam issued from his nostrils. His breath smelled herbaceous and slightly malty, as if he had been drinking beer along with his grass. I froze. I racked my brain trying to remember what to do when faced with an irate bull. Was I supposed to make myself appear larger by shouting and waving my arms around? Or should I try to seem smaller, perhaps even play dead? Should I climb a tree, dive into a river, run like hell? Then I thought, I'll just sidle by, he won't even notice me. I took one cautious step forward. The bull sashayed over—I was amazed at how quickly this massive animal could move—and butted me in the side, and I bounced across the path as effortlessly as a pebble.
Heart hammering, I scrambled to my feet and scurried away down the path. I looked over my shoulder to see if the bull was in pursuit, but he was ignoring me, enthusiastically cropping the grass where I had been standing. A thought went through my mind as clearly as if a voice had spoken in my ear: Wake up! And at that moment, I did feel remarkably, spectacularly awake. Adrenaline can have that effect on a person. The grass looked greener, the sky more cerulean. Had birdsong always sounded this melodious? Had acorns always had this marvelous conical shape, this satiny shell? Fully awake and engaged in the present moment, I felt like a new kind of animal: a mindful one. The bull had shaken and awakened me into a heightened state of awareness and it felt…wonderful.
I looked back at the herd. Some of the cows were settled down on the grass chewing their cud and gazing off into the middle distance, though I knew they were also alert and watchful, aware of any danger that might come their way. They were ruminating—consciously. I thought of the way my dog sometimes lays on the couch in a sphinx-like posture, her paws crossed in front of her, eyes half-closed, ears pricked. She appears to be dozing, yet her senses are fully engaged. Cats spend hours in the same intermediate state, projecting a sense of absolute calm while remaining intently aware of their environment. Maybe this wasn't so different from the mindfulness that humans practice. Perhaps human mindfulness was an attempt to model the observant yet meditative states so many animals slip into naturally when they are at rest.
In meditation classes they ring a bell to signal the beginning and ending of a meditation session. Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh says the sound of the bell is the Buddha's way of reminding us to come home to ourselves—in other words, to bring our attention into the present moment. "You have an appointment with life—you should not miss it," he says. "The time and the space of your appoint¬ment is the here and the now. If you are not available to life, then life will not be available to you." He says anything can be a mindfulness bell: the ringing of a phone, the barking of a dog, a traffic light—even, I suppose, a two-ton bull.
I felt grateful to the bull who had knocked me over and brought me home to myself. The bull had actually shown great restraint, using no more force than necessary to remove me from his salad bar. Every day I try to practice conscious rumination—my beastly form of mindfulness. Someday, I hope to be as skilled as the bull, standing calmly in the shade, swishing his tail at the flies, chewing his cud and ruminating on his inner world, aware of all that is within and all that is without.