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BOOK REVIEW: Leah Rampy’s “Earth and Soul”

Steve · May 19, 2024 · 3 Comments

Writer and retreat leader Leah Rampy pulls no punches in her new volume from Bold Story Press, “Earth and Soul: Reconnecting Amid Climate Chaos.” The earth as we know it is in a dire predicament, from which there is no easy return or solution. We are living in “edge times,” on the threshold of climate chaos and mass extinction of biodiversity and will remain there while we await a slow slipping over the edge — unless we are willing reconnect our personal lives and our spiritual selves to the world around us.   

This is not a story devoid of hope. I doubt I would have kept reading if it were. If we’re willing to face the scientific facts of the situation, see more completely the fullness and wisdom of the world around us, and embrace the spiritual angst we are feeling, there is still the possibility of pulling ourselves back from the brink. “Earth and Soul” is a soul journey (the author’s and ultimately our own) that still has inherent in it the hope of something better beyond the grief that comes with such danger and loss. In the book’s concluding chapter she writes:

Because we will never know the outcomes beyond our lifetime, we can choose to live in a story that is grounded in the real and that still offers greater possibility. Living with hope is a choice. When we choose hope, we embrace what is already unfolding and discern if and how we are called to respond. Without any illusion that the path will be easy, we choose to live more fully into our soul’s mission and offer our gifts to the world guided by the Earth’s wisdom.

Writing while standing near the intersection of spirituality, ecology and story, the author offers us a chance to journey in the direction of recovery and sanity, a map of sorts for those willing to live deeply connected to the Earth from the depth of their own souls. For the climate crisis is, she reminds us, a spiritual one. “Without attending to our own continued transformation, we cannot hope to align with the living world to create a tapestry of a beautiful future,” she writes in the book’s introduction.

The eleven short chapters in this 200-page paperback edition made for easy, slow and digestible daily reading for a few weeks. While I could have read it much quickly (it’s not a dense slog through theory and environmental science), I soon discovered that this was a book better taken in a little at a time, a reminder to myself that this kind of change (our own and the environment’s) takes time and trust, a belief that the seeming impossible is, in fact, possible. Drawing from Jesuit theologian Walter’s Burghardt’s reminder that contemplation is a, “long, loving look at the real,” this book is a call to ponder the predicament as a precursor to individual and spiritual change and action.

What is necessary for such change to begin, Rampy reminds us, is personal transformation, a movement from long-held social beliefs that the Earth and its non-human creatures are only here for our sustenance, use and often abuse, to a state of recognition that we are better off living in communion with our plant and animal “kith and kin.”

“When we declare the land inanimate,” she writes, “we ravage our souls. If we deny the vibrantly alive Earth, the breathing beings from which we evolved, the plants with all their gifts — if all those lives can be deemed resources to be pillaged, destroyed, discarded, and annihilated to satisfy our wants — then so too can people who stand in the way of achieving the ends we seek.”

“Earth and Soul” is an invitation to think, live, contemplate and act differently, as if those human actions might just make a difference, which surely they can. This book, Rampy writes, serves as “one invitation to a great turning, a return to our truest selves and a transformation of our relationship with the Earth.”

To instigate such changes, we must begin now, while we are still on the threshold, but Rampy is quick to point out that this is the work of generations, not years or decades. She relates the story of a wise prophet giving feedback to a group of volunteers who had taken some positive steps. “I think this is very good,” the prophet says. “There will likely be excellent results from this in about six hundred years.”

And that’s the point of the book, I think. There are no easy and quick answers. There are only next steps that must be taken, once we have done the hard work of reconnecting our souls to the world around us. She writes: “We will need to practice simply discerning the next step, and then the next step, and then the next, trusting the wisdom we are given without knowing the future or the results of our efforts.”

Right in Front of Our Eyes

Steve · July 6, 2023 · 8 Comments

Once when I was a boy I was trying to find something — I don’t remember now what it was — but this thing ended up being right there on the table in front of me. My father laughed as he pointed it out to me and said, “If it had been a snake, it would have bitten you.”

As a child, that metaphor scared me a little. What IF it had been a snake? What IF I hadn’t seen it there on the table, hiding among my father’s copies of National Geographic and Organic Gardening, slithering toward me between his overflowing ashtray and transistor radio? I learned to look closely around me for the things I was searching for before I started asking for help. Lesson learned: pay attention to the obvious and the close at hand.

In our search for God, sometimes the same thing happens. We miss the obvious moments and occurrences of the Divine because we’re frantically searching for something “out there,” something that is big and splashy and without-a-doubt “God,” when all the time there are these small, ordinary experiences that we’re missing, hidden among the ordinary stuff of life.

Finding God in our daily lives does not require special abilities or tools. We do not have to be particularly holy, although focusing our minds on the holy around us can be a good place to begin. What is required is our intention — a desire and willingness to pay attention to the life we have been given and find God already there waiting for us, beckoning to us, laughing at us and saying, “If I had been a snake…”

I recently wrote a new song on this theme, this idea that God is “right there,” always in front of our eyes. God doesn’t hide from us. God is always waiting to be found, always delighted when we slow down, pay attention and utter those sacred words: “Ah…there you are.”

Here are the lyrics to the song, and a new video is below (you may have to scroll a little). Thanks to my musical collaborator Phil Cooper for the beautiful piano arrangement and to my talented daughter, Jenny, for creating the vocal arrangement and singing with me. In the midst of the creation of this song I found God again — in the act of creation, in the gift of words and music, in the chemistry that happens when we gather together to create something new.

There you are, there you are
in the green that clothes the trees
There you are, there you are
in the very least of these.

Some days I rise but do not waken.
Sometimes I look but fail to see.
And still, you move and catch my eye
A flash of red, a moment fleeting.

In all the noise I cannot hear you.
In all my words I miss your voice.
And still, a whisper fills my head
A gentle beating, inside of me.

Today I saw you on the street
With all you own spread out around you.
And still, a spirit in your smile
A soul on fire, a gift before me.

There You Are
Words and music by Steve Givens
© 2023 Potter’s Mark Music

The Seeds of My Father’s Garden

Steve · January 14, 2023 · 26 Comments


“But some seed fell on rich soil, and produced fruit, a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold. Whoever has ears ought to hear.” (Matthew 13:9)

My father’s garden wasn’t much by the standards of many gardens. It was situated on a small plot of land in the backyard of my North St. Louis home in the 1960s and early ‘70s, planted with love, passion and knowledge gleaned from the pages of Organic Gardening magazine.

It sat at the back of the yard, near the alley, and I can still picture its layout in my mind’s eye, row by row. Onions against the fence, followed by lettuce and cabbage, tomatoes and green peppers, beans growing up the legs of my no-longer-used and rusting swing set, carrots, radishes, and no doubt a few others I can no longer remember. 

All organic, and all planted with the knowledge that the soil was (or could be) naturally fertile and ready to accept the seeds or the young seedlings that my father started in our basement during winter under fluorescent lights. If it sounds like I appreciated all his effort and creativity, I didn’t. Not at the time, anyway. I was a kid and saw it as largely wasted space where I couldn’t play ball and poor use of a swing set, even if I didn’t use it all that much anymore. I was told, in so many ways, to keep out. 

All these years later, I have a more mature view of what he was trying to do. He was giving us healthy, organic food free of pesticides and herbicides. He was helping us get by on a mailman’s salary and trying to teach us something we could take into adulthood with us. He was giving us something extraordinary amid the ordinary of an urban backyard. He was doing all this to tell us he loved us, even if he could never muster those words.

More than anything, I think he was seeking quiet, sacred moments with himself and God. He was trying to make sense of his father’s suicide (unknown to us kids at the time). He was silently grappling with own failed professional career as a chiropractor and perhaps wrestling with the oncoming darkness of depression and alcoholism.He was searching for something sacred in an ordinary garden. What I thought was wasted space he knew was holy ground.

We are called to prepare our hearts for the coming of the Word of God into our lives of faith like my father organically prepared the soil of his garden. The Word is planted in us already if we can just stir up the earth a little and add a little compost. The incarnation of Christ is not just about Christmas. It’s about the continual coming and planting of the Word into our lives today. It’s about seeking the extraordinary in the midst of the ordinary.

We need the Incarnated Jesus. We need a walking, breathing, working-with-us Jesus. Otherwise, he remains a word on a page of old parchment, an unfulfilled promise, an old story that’s nice to listen to but never quite seems real. A scattered seed that was planted long ago but never really took root and grew and bore fruit.

In contemplating the Incarnation during these post-Christmas, cold and often-dark days of a Midwest winter, I come to see and appreciate how our human and earthly nature is quickened and sparked by the Divine, just as life begins to grow in the dark of the soil. Even in the depth of winter, we can begin to see life through that spring lens. We can see we are the soil where the Word of God grows and, over time, we can learn to recognize the holy when God puts it right before our eyes.  

A Post-Thanksgiving Call to Awareness and Gratitude

Steve · November 26, 2022 · 2 Comments

Dear friends, 

On this ordinary day just a few days past the American holiday of Thanksgiving, I write to share a reminder (in words and in the video below) that faith requires an ongoing commitment to this idea of Thanksgiving — to awareness and living with our eyes wide open to our blessings. Above all, to gratitude. 

We are called to recognize the holy when God puts it right before our eyes. It should be our life’s work to pay attention. I’m reminded of the words of Elizabeth Barrett Browning: 

Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God,
But only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round and pluck blackberries.

God says to us: “Listen carefully. Become more aware of the world around you, of the people and circumstances and challenges that I place in your lives. I will meet you there in these ordinary things and then I will make the ordinary extraordinary for you. I will change you.”

Below is new video (created yesterday) of an older song by me and my colleague Phil Cooper. Enjoy. 

A Week of Reverence

Steve · November 5, 2022 · 3 Comments

I am slowly making my way through Larry Warner’s book, “Journey with Jesus,” yet another modern (and insightful) take on the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola. This past week, the theme was “reverence,” and over and over I was praying for the grace to be in awe of God. Here are a few thoughts from my journal…

— Yesterday I walked the wooded path that loops around Mallard Lake near my home. I was still contemplating the theme from the previous week in the book, which was “praise.” Surrounded by the wonder of creation, sometimes there are just no words to express even that praise to the Creator. I guess that’s the purpose of awe. Sometimes we just need to stand in awe and allow the silence of our thoughts to do the work of praise.

The changing and falling leaves. The turtle sunning itself midstream on a log. A big re-headed pileated woodpecker constantly on the move, flitting tree to tree as if just trying to stay ahead of me. Is that you, God? Slow down. My response is to stop and take it all in. What I felt was God’s extravagance. I know these are all just natural, biological things with lives and rhythms of their own. They are common and ordinary. And yet if we stop and pay attention, they hold a glimpse of the Creator and the divine ongoing work of creation — all seemingly for my enjoyment in that moment. 

— Inspired by 1 Chronicles 16: 23-25

The Earth, and everything in it, sings to God. 
Intones God’s glory and action. 
Fills us with awe.
The splendor of the Earth announces and presents God to us. 
Nature sings in harmony:
“You think this is so great? You should see who made us!”
We are called to shift our gaze from the created to the Creator. 
When we do, a whole new world opens up. 
We enter in as if entering a temple, for surely we are. 
So bring yourself as a gift before the altar of fallen tree and exposed rock
Stand still in your awe and feel yourself tremble.
Listen to the Earth and take up the song:
Water rippling over rocks.
The whisper of grass and grain. 
Trees reaching high in near-silent psalms of praise.
My own mouth breathing out.
My small voice sings. 

— I have an overwhelming sense of awe of the presence of God in my life, this God who just keeps showing up in the simple and ordinary, in my work, in those who surround me, in the everyday miracles of nature. 

— Inspired by From Revelation 4:6-11  

In unimaginable beauty, I find myself before the throne,
Radiant, as if all light comes from that one place.
As if. 
Speechless, unsure of myself,
And yet words tumble out of mystery and doubt:
Holy. 
You are holy.
You have always been, and are, and will be.
Worthy. 
You are worthy
To receive my little psalms of praise
My nods of reverence. 

What is your song of reverence today?

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About the Author

Steve Givens is a retreat and spiritual director and a widely published writer on issues of faith and spirituality. He is also a musician, composer and singer who lives in St. Louis, Mo., with his wife, Sue. They have two grown and married children and five grandchildren.

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