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Dwellings: A Spiritual History of the Living World
Written in the form of stories and suffused with a reverence for the Earth, a collection of meditations explores the mysteries of such subjects as bees, porcupines, caves, and the myths and rituals of Native American cultures
160 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1995
63 people are currently reading
3,043 people want to read
About the author
Linda Hogan
72books527followersLinda K. Hogan (born 1947 Denver) is a Native American poet, storyteller, academic, playwright, novelist, environmentalist and writer of short stories. She is currently the Chickasaw Nation's Writer in Residence.
Linda Hogan is Chickasaw. Her father is a Chickasaw from a recognized historical family and Linda's uncle, Wesley Henderson, helped form the White Buffalo Council in Denver during the 1950s. It was to help other Indian people coming to the city because of The Relocation Act, which encouraged migration for work and other opportunities. He had a strong influence on her and she grew up relating strongly to both her Chickasaw family in Indian Territory (Oklahoma) and to a mixed Indian community in the Denver area. At other times, her family traveled because of the military.
Her first university teaching position was in American Indian Studies and American Studies at the University of Minnesota. After writing her first book, Calling Myself Home, she continued to write poetry. Her work has both a historical and political focus, but is lyrical. Her most recent books are The Book of Medicines (1993) and Rounding the Human Corners. (2008) She is also a novelist and essayist. Her work centers on the world of Native peoples, from both her own indigenous perspective and that of others. She was a full professor of Creative Writing at the University of Colorado and then taught the last two years in the University's Ethnic Studies Department. She currently is the Writer in Residence for her own Chickasaw Nation.
Essayist, novelist, and poet, Hogan has published works in many different backgrounds and forms. Her concentration is on environmental themes. She has acted as a consultant in bringing together Native tribal representatives and feminist themes, particularly allying them to her Native ancestry. Her work, whether fiction or non-fiction, expresses an indigenous understanding of the world.
She has written essays and poems on a variety of subjects, both fictional and nonfictional, biographical and from research. Hogan has also written historical novels. Her work studies the historical wrongs done to Native Americans and the American environment since the European colonization of North America.
Hogan was a professor at the University of Colorado at Boulder and the University of Oklahoma. She is the (inaugural) Writer-in-Residence for the Chickasaw Nation in Oklahoma. In October 2011, she instructed a writing workshop through the Abiquiu Workshops in Abiquiu, New Mexico.
(from Wikipedia)
Linda Hogan is Chickasaw. Her father is a Chickasaw from a recognized historical family and Linda's uncle, Wesley Henderson, helped form the White Buffalo Council in Denver during the 1950s. It was to help other Indian people coming to the city because of The Relocation Act, which encouraged migration for work and other opportunities. He had a strong influence on her and she grew up relating strongly to both her Chickasaw family in Indian Territory (Oklahoma) and to a mixed Indian community in the Denver area. At other times, her family traveled because of the military.
Her first university teaching position was in American Indian Studies and American Studies at the University of Minnesota. After writing her first book, Calling Myself Home, she continued to write poetry. Her work has both a historical and political focus, but is lyrical. Her most recent books are The Book of Medicines (1993) and Rounding the Human Corners. (2008) She is also a novelist and essayist. Her work centers on the world of Native peoples, from both her own indigenous perspective and that of others. She was a full professor of Creative Writing at the University of Colorado and then taught the last two years in the University's Ethnic Studies Department. She currently is the Writer in Residence for her own Chickasaw Nation.
Essayist, novelist, and poet, Hogan has published works in many different backgrounds and forms. Her concentration is on environmental themes. She has acted as a consultant in bringing together Native tribal representatives and feminist themes, particularly allying them to her Native ancestry. Her work, whether fiction or non-fiction, expresses an indigenous understanding of the world.
She has written essays and poems on a variety of subjects, both fictional and nonfictional, biographical and from research. Hogan has also written historical novels. Her work studies the historical wrongs done to Native Americans and the American environment since the European colonization of North America.
Hogan was a professor at the University of Colorado at Boulder and the University of Oklahoma. She is the (inaugural) Writer-in-Residence for the Chickasaw Nation in Oklahoma. In October 2011, she instructed a writing workshop through the Abiquiu Workshops in Abiquiu, New Mexico.
(from Wikipedia)
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 105 reviews
January 5, 2009
I just finished reading this book, which is so beautifully and gracefully written. Linda Hogan's prose is indeed filled with poetic language, in which she reminds us of our connectedness to the natural world, of the natural world's connectedness to the spiritual and mythic world, and that every action, however small and insignificant to us, has the most profound effect on others. So here, not only are we humans and animals alive; the mountains, the trees, the water are also alive, and contain memory of everything that has ever touched it. Imagine, old as water is, what it knows.
This means, then, that we should live mindfully. She tells us of her everyday actions, from performing a small ritual with sage for a dead elderly and decrepit porcupine on her street, and from which maggots emerge, rapidly developing into so many different kinds of insects, which, upon reaching the other side of the street, are quickly devoured by the ants awaiting them there. So from one death, so much life, whose deaths feed more life.
Hogan telescopes (or microscopes) in and out, from these sorts of details in a finite space and time as above, to the geological time it takes for water to carve a canyon through a hill, and what layers of life burrow their way into what is now cliff face. How this cliff, this half a hill hums with the collective sound of bees nesting within it.
In her "Dwellings" essay, she tells us of the fallen and abandoned bird's nest outside of her home, which is woven with old grass, sage, threads from her old skirt, her daughter's hair from an old hairbrush. How it is that the strands from her life and family become a shelter for these other lives. Throughout this collection of essays, Hogan continues to pull back, widen the view, until we are presented with the planet, which is the nest in which we have made our home, this nest resting in branch of a larger tree that is our galaxy.
Still, let the above not stand as a new age-y or uncritically Utopian message of "we are all one." I especially appreciate about Hogan that she is not blameless. When she speaks of a "we" who has lost touch with indigenous ways of knowing, including knowing how to live as stewards of the life on this planet, she includes herself as a part of this modern human culture. In this way, there is a message of hope, that each and every one of us and our seemingly little deeds of saving and honoring lives, can amount to something significant. She cites all manners of other voices; artists, poets, scientists, who have in common that they have paid close attention to the physical, spiritual, or mythical world, in order to hear its voice. It's important to be mindful, Hogan is telling us, to live mindfully, to respect all life, as we are connected to them as they are to us.
This means, then, that we should live mindfully. She tells us of her everyday actions, from performing a small ritual with sage for a dead elderly and decrepit porcupine on her street, and from which maggots emerge, rapidly developing into so many different kinds of insects, which, upon reaching the other side of the street, are quickly devoured by the ants awaiting them there. So from one death, so much life, whose deaths feed more life.
Hogan telescopes (or microscopes) in and out, from these sorts of details in a finite space and time as above, to the geological time it takes for water to carve a canyon through a hill, and what layers of life burrow their way into what is now cliff face. How this cliff, this half a hill hums with the collective sound of bees nesting within it.
In her "Dwellings" essay, she tells us of the fallen and abandoned bird's nest outside of her home, which is woven with old grass, sage, threads from her old skirt, her daughter's hair from an old hairbrush. How it is that the strands from her life and family become a shelter for these other lives. Throughout this collection of essays, Hogan continues to pull back, widen the view, until we are presented with the planet, which is the nest in which we have made our home, this nest resting in branch of a larger tree that is our galaxy.
Still, let the above not stand as a new age-y or uncritically Utopian message of "we are all one." I especially appreciate about Hogan that she is not blameless. When she speaks of a "we" who has lost touch with indigenous ways of knowing, including knowing how to live as stewards of the life on this planet, she includes herself as a part of this modern human culture. In this way, there is a message of hope, that each and every one of us and our seemingly little deeds of saving and honoring lives, can amount to something significant. She cites all manners of other voices; artists, poets, scientists, who have in common that they have paid close attention to the physical, spiritual, or mythical world, in order to hear its voice. It's important to be mindful, Hogan is telling us, to live mindfully, to respect all life, as we are connected to them as they are to us.
August 2, 2008
One of the best sets of essays I have ever read. Hogan uses tremendous imagery here, just like in her poetry. I especially loved the essay on bats.
...they live with the goddess of night in the lusty mouth of earth...
...bending over the stone, smelling the earth up close, we drank sky off the surface of water...
...they live with the goddess of night in the lusty mouth of earth...
...bending over the stone, smelling the earth up close, we drank sky off the surface of water...
February 10, 2017
As far as I'm concerned, this book is perfect.
"Drinking the water, I thought how earth and sky are generous with their gifts, and how good it is to receive them. Most of us are taught, somehow, about giving and accepting human gifts, but not about opening ourselves and our bodies to welcome the sun, the land, the visions of sky and dreaming, not about standing in the rain ecastatic with what is offered."
"Drinking the water, I thought how earth and sky are generous with their gifts, and how good it is to receive them. Most of us are taught, somehow, about giving and accepting human gifts, but not about opening ourselves and our bodies to welcome the sun, the land, the visions of sky and dreaming, not about standing in the rain ecastatic with what is offered."
October 24, 2022
She said caves were feminine places that’s real shit
January 8, 2024
“whichever road i follow, i walk in the land of many gods, and they love and eat one another. walking, i am listening to a deeper way. suddently all my ancestors are behind me. be still, they say. watch and listen. you are the result of the love of thousands.� aidan thank you for recommending me this book i now need my own copy
March 6, 2024
What a beautiful volume about nature, the world, and our place in it. Such lovely reminders of nature’s incredible depth and breadth. Refreshing 🥰
April 10, 2024
Okay I’ll say it- this book might have been the most beautiful prose I’ve ever read. It took me weeks to read this tiny book, because I reread most sentences. Each time I put it down, I returned to restart the section because I didn’t want to miss a word. Surely one to read every few years.
What was so majestic about it? Hogan paints this book as if putting brush to canvas- her intensely beautiful way of looking at the living world is awe-inspiring- from the clay pot, to the bird of pray, to the maggots eating a deceased animal and moving along the circle of life.
She is staunch in her love of all things and it is healing to join her mystical perspective.
I can’t recommend this book highly enough. Linda Hogan certainly enters my scope of favorite writers as she matches the beautiful intensity of Robin Wall-Kimmerer and Mary Oliver.
What was so majestic about it? Hogan paints this book as if putting brush to canvas- her intensely beautiful way of looking at the living world is awe-inspiring- from the clay pot, to the bird of pray, to the maggots eating a deceased animal and moving along the circle of life.
She is staunch in her love of all things and it is healing to join her mystical perspective.
I can’t recommend this book highly enough. Linda Hogan certainly enters my scope of favorite writers as she matches the beautiful intensity of Robin Wall-Kimmerer and Mary Oliver.
March 3, 2021
Would honestly say this is one of the best books i've read in a while. True to its content, the book shapeshifts between poetry and prose in a beautiful, soothing way. Hogan's storytelling felt intimate and healing as it wove her (and her family's) personal experiences with ancestral beliefs (not only human but of the earth herself). As I read an essay every day, I felt the distinction between "humans" and other earth beings blur further and further, allowing me to experience an intimacy I haven't felt before. Whether Hogan was writing about wolves, porcupines, bats, or creation itself, her poetic storytelling related astute observations of earth and earth beings to the impact of humans on ecologies. In their wide range of topics, these essays were tied together in their contemplations of life, death, and how there is always a possibility for repairing our relation to earth. Forever grateful to have experienced this book and am now inspired to be more intentional about my own relations to earth and her relatives.
"Walking, I am listening in a deeper way. Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. Be still, they say. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands."
"Walking, I am listening in a deeper way. Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. Be still, they say. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands."
April 23, 2017
Some of these essays touched me, prodded me, lifted and soothed and strengthened me more than others. They are all good. "The Kill Hole" is my favorite. I shared "A Different Yield" with my students.
A brief passage from a chapter about working in a raptor rehabilitation center: "The most difficult task the birds demand is that we learn to be equal to them, t feel our way into an intelligence that i different from our own. A fiend, awed at the thought of working with eagles, said, 'Imagine knowing an eagle.' I answered her honestly, 'It isn't so much knowing the eagles. It's that they know us.' "
These are wise rumination about knowing how our lives fit into the landscapes, the animals and plants and flowing water of our home here on earth.
Oh! The last chapter of this book ends on page 159.
A brief passage from a chapter about working in a raptor rehabilitation center: "The most difficult task the birds demand is that we learn to be equal to them, t feel our way into an intelligence that i different from our own. A fiend, awed at the thought of working with eagles, said, 'Imagine knowing an eagle.' I answered her honestly, 'It isn't so much knowing the eagles. It's that they know us.' "
These are wise rumination about knowing how our lives fit into the landscapes, the animals and plants and flowing water of our home here on earth.
Oh! The last chapter of this book ends on page 159.
September 7, 2023
Absolutely fascinating. This book changed my understanding of the earth that we inhabit, and left me in a state of reverence.
“We want to live as if there is no other place, as if we will always be here.
We want to live with devotion to the world of waters and the universe of life that dwells above our thin roofs�.
We were children of the universe. In the gas and dust of life, we are voyagers.� - Page 134
“We want to live as if there is no other place, as if we will always be here.
We want to live with devotion to the world of waters and the universe of life that dwells above our thin roofs�.
We were children of the universe. In the gas and dust of life, we are voyagers.� - Page 134
March 23, 2022
This book was the first I’ve read of Linda Hogan, and I am so glad she’s come into my life. Some of these essays moved me deeply, while others didn’t. Regardless of the impact or lack of impact, her writing is divine, and I will read many more of her works undoubtedly. I highly recommend.
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December 18, 2024I love this book. I am so glad I chose to use it in a class this semester. Under the library of congress designation, the only thing that describes the category for where this book resides is "philosophy of nature." Here's to nonreductive philosophies of nature.
April 3, 2023
Was not expecting this book to hit me so hard. I highly recommend. After reading I feel much more grateful for nature and our world but also very sad. Pretty fast read yet beautifully written❤️
August 23, 2016
Beautiful, simply beautiful! Hogan's reflections on nature are part prose, part poetry. I will be re-visiting this book again.
December 18, 2024
I love dwelling in Linda's world.
June 21, 2024
For some reason, it seems nature writing tends toward a certain superficiality. "Ooh, I saw a bird! I'm going to write down that I saw the bird. If I'm feeling fancy, I might even use a metaphor or simile!" And then it ends, right there. It just plops down and roosts, right where the thought terminated, which often is less a thought and more a straightforward observation. Though not quite as drearily pathetic as A Moving Meditation: Life on a Cape Cod Kettle Pond, this one sure gets close at points. It's obvious that Hogan is a better writer and has slightly more interesting things to say, but so much of what she writes comes off as... trite. The word kept rattling in my head every time I read a new platitude or almost-interesting observation. A potential reader of this book would benefit much more greatly by reading the work of Basho, Ryokan, John G. Neihardt, Ted Kooser, Thoreau, or any number of other writers who write about nature or Native American religion.
I think the problem why so much of it fell flat was that the author was attempting to navigate a gap which some of the most talented writers and most nuanced minds have failed to bridge: that between scientia and sapientia, between mathematical/scientific knowledge and traditional/theological wisdom. If one attempts too direct a correspondence, then it comes off precisely as trite oversimplifications and dismissals of "the other side." The only way out of the conundrum to me seems to be something in the region of what the medieval Christian and Islamic thinkers achieved, though they're badly out of fashion and unlikely to gain any traction. In the post-modern meantime, it seems that native/indigenous thinking may be our best bet. Unfortunately, because so much of indigenous religion and tradition has been decimated and lost, what we have now is a shell of what it was back in its heyday. Instead, now we have essays like this collection's first, "The Feathers," which was originally published in a magazine called New Age (which should tell you all you need to know about it). The essay, like much of the book, amounts to little more than superstitious pattern recognition and unfalsifiable witness claims. I find this really unfortunate, because I feel like this book, were it written by someone more capable, could have helped bridge an important gap in the discourse. Instead, it came off as smug and self-righteous, yet shallow in its lack of elaboration on each point. Rather than diving into depth on a certain topic, she loosely grouped vaguely related stories and memories. Sometimes the chapters ended nicely, but to get any higher of a rating she needed to weave that throughout, instead of only plopping it at the end.
These essays often had little to no cohesion other than an over-arching word (apparently broadened to a "theme," though precious little thematic resonance held it together). In "The Feathers" (as well as "The Bats" and "The Caves," original names, I know), the author jumped from reverie to reverie, doing none of the hard work of nature writing; that is, transforming it into something above mere observation or speculation. I was doubly surprised that the worst, most disjointed of the chapters were previously published essays, while the better chapters were ones seemingly written for this collection. I also will admit I gave up the book halfway through, because I'm not Catholic enough to be that masochistic. I will, however, leave you with probably the best quote from the book, one which another author who visited my university quoted:
Bending over the stone, smelling earth up close, we drank sky off the surface of the water.
Now that's a sublime line. If only the rest of the book had as much originality and attention to the line, I would have enjoyed it thoroughly. Because it didn't, I didn't. Adieu.
I think the problem why so much of it fell flat was that the author was attempting to navigate a gap which some of the most talented writers and most nuanced minds have failed to bridge: that between scientia and sapientia, between mathematical/scientific knowledge and traditional/theological wisdom. If one attempts too direct a correspondence, then it comes off precisely as trite oversimplifications and dismissals of "the other side." The only way out of the conundrum to me seems to be something in the region of what the medieval Christian and Islamic thinkers achieved, though they're badly out of fashion and unlikely to gain any traction. In the post-modern meantime, it seems that native/indigenous thinking may be our best bet. Unfortunately, because so much of indigenous religion and tradition has been decimated and lost, what we have now is a shell of what it was back in its heyday. Instead, now we have essays like this collection's first, "The Feathers," which was originally published in a magazine called New Age (which should tell you all you need to know about it). The essay, like much of the book, amounts to little more than superstitious pattern recognition and unfalsifiable witness claims. I find this really unfortunate, because I feel like this book, were it written by someone more capable, could have helped bridge an important gap in the discourse. Instead, it came off as smug and self-righteous, yet shallow in its lack of elaboration on each point. Rather than diving into depth on a certain topic, she loosely grouped vaguely related stories and memories. Sometimes the chapters ended nicely, but to get any higher of a rating she needed to weave that throughout, instead of only plopping it at the end.
These essays often had little to no cohesion other than an over-arching word (apparently broadened to a "theme," though precious little thematic resonance held it together). In "The Feathers" (as well as "The Bats" and "The Caves," original names, I know), the author jumped from reverie to reverie, doing none of the hard work of nature writing; that is, transforming it into something above mere observation or speculation. I was doubly surprised that the worst, most disjointed of the chapters were previously published essays, while the better chapters were ones seemingly written for this collection. I also will admit I gave up the book halfway through, because I'm not Catholic enough to be that masochistic. I will, however, leave you with probably the best quote from the book, one which another author who visited my university quoted:
Bending over the stone, smelling earth up close, we drank sky off the surface of the water.
Now that's a sublime line. If only the rest of the book had as much originality and attention to the line, I would have enjoyed it thoroughly. Because it didn't, I didn't. Adieu.
July 17, 2021
Mõned aastad tagasi oli mingi uudis, et kusagil USAs või Kanadas anti välja teadusgrant selleks, et uurida P-Amerika põlisrahvaste kosmoseteooriaid ja sellega seotud füüsikat ja muud säärast. Ei - mitte selleks, et uurida maailmaloomise jms seotud pärimust. Ei. Vaid selleks, et uuridagi indiaani füüsikat ja kosmoloogiat jms. Sest miks ei võiks igal rahval olla oma füüsika... miks peavad kõik ühte ja sama gravitatsioonikonstanti taluma ja valguse kiirust kogema?
Ühesõnaga - selle indiaanitädi looduseteemalisi mõtisklusi lugedes meenus mulle alatasa see uudis. Sest temagi rääkis üsna sellist juttu. Kuni selleni välja, et mis iganes hõim see oli, kelle pärimus väidab, et nende esiisad vaatasid pealt, kuidas maailm loodi ja seepärast teavad nad seda täpselt, ja otseallikast, ja ärgu mingi tuim ja tundetu teadus tulgu ütlema, kuidas see käis. Õudsalt närvidele käisid need tema mõtted, ja ta oli pea igas jutus ikka vaja selliste uhhuundustega muidu üsnagi toredad looduskirjeldused või mingid tänapäevaste indiaanlaste argitegemised ja kasvõi ka need vanad pärimused ära lörtsida. Selline jutt devalveerib mu meelest nende endi pärimust, mis muidu mulle väga meeldib. (Kui just muidugi mitte olla Dewalvaeri indinaanlane...)
Tundus täpselt selline pealtnäha emalikult rauge tädi, kes mingil loodusfestivalil läheb esoteerilist äksi täis, ja tahab sulle iga hinna eest mingit uhhuud tõestada, väites kohe jutu alguseks, et mida need teadlased, eksole ju ikka teavad, ja üldse asju varjatakse, ja kõik vastused on looduses. Ja lõpuks unikaalseid persetšakraid avavaid sitakivisid pähe, või kusagile mujale määrida, või toppida. Ei teagi, miks ma ikkagi lõpuni venitasin sellega. Võibolla seepärast, et lugesin peldikus ja teine raamat, mis mul seal parasjagu on (Borgese väljamõeldud olendite raamat), on veelgi hullem pettumus...
Ühesõnaga - selle indiaanitädi looduseteemalisi mõtisklusi lugedes meenus mulle alatasa see uudis. Sest temagi rääkis üsna sellist juttu. Kuni selleni välja, et mis iganes hõim see oli, kelle pärimus väidab, et nende esiisad vaatasid pealt, kuidas maailm loodi ja seepärast teavad nad seda täpselt, ja otseallikast, ja ärgu mingi tuim ja tundetu teadus tulgu ütlema, kuidas see käis. Õudsalt närvidele käisid need tema mõtted, ja ta oli pea igas jutus ikka vaja selliste uhhuundustega muidu üsnagi toredad looduskirjeldused või mingid tänapäevaste indiaanlaste argitegemised ja kasvõi ka need vanad pärimused ära lörtsida. Selline jutt devalveerib mu meelest nende endi pärimust, mis muidu mulle väga meeldib. (Kui just muidugi mitte olla Dewalvaeri indinaanlane...)
Tundus täpselt selline pealtnäha emalikult rauge tädi, kes mingil loodusfestivalil läheb esoteerilist äksi täis, ja tahab sulle iga hinna eest mingit uhhuud tõestada, väites kohe jutu alguseks, et mida need teadlased, eksole ju ikka teavad, ja üldse asju varjatakse, ja kõik vastused on looduses. Ja lõpuks unikaalseid persetšakraid avavaid sitakivisid pähe, või kusagile mujale määrida, või toppida. Ei teagi, miks ma ikkagi lõpuni venitasin sellega. Võibolla seepärast, et lugesin peldikus ja teine raamat, mis mul seal parasjagu on (Borgese väljamõeldud olendite raamat), on veelgi hullem pettumus...
May 20, 2021
Lyrical, poetic and endlessly beautiful. Linda Hogan offers a striking, needed critique of colonialism and human consumption. It brings animals and places in the world to life and renders our own complicity inescapably into the light. The chapter about wolves is at once haunting and healing. Here is an excerpt from the book that spoke to me:
“Wilderness is seen as having value only as it enhances and serves our human lives, our human world. While most of us agree that wilderness is necessary to our spiritual and psychological well-being, it is a container of far more, of mystery, of a life apart from ours. It is not only where we go to escape who we have become and what we have done, but it is also part of the natural laws, the workings of a world of beauty and depth we do not yet understand. It is something beyond us, something that does not need our hand in it. As one of our Indian elders has said, there are laws beyond our human laws, and ways above ours. We have no words for this is in our language, or even for our experience of being there. Ours is a language of commerce and trade, of laws that can be bent in order that treaties might be broken, land wounded beyond healing. It is a language that is limited, emotionally and spiritually, as if it can’t accommodate such magical strength and power. The ears of this language do not hear the songs of the white egrets, the rain falling into stone bowls. So we make our own songs to contain these things, make ceremonies and poems, searching for a new way to speak, to say we want a new way to live in the world, to say that wilderness and water, blue herons and orange newts are invaluable not just to us, but in themselves, in the workings of the natural world that rules us whether we acknowledge it or not.�
“Wilderness is seen as having value only as it enhances and serves our human lives, our human world. While most of us agree that wilderness is necessary to our spiritual and psychological well-being, it is a container of far more, of mystery, of a life apart from ours. It is not only where we go to escape who we have become and what we have done, but it is also part of the natural laws, the workings of a world of beauty and depth we do not yet understand. It is something beyond us, something that does not need our hand in it. As one of our Indian elders has said, there are laws beyond our human laws, and ways above ours. We have no words for this is in our language, or even for our experience of being there. Ours is a language of commerce and trade, of laws that can be bent in order that treaties might be broken, land wounded beyond healing. It is a language that is limited, emotionally and spiritually, as if it can’t accommodate such magical strength and power. The ears of this language do not hear the songs of the white egrets, the rain falling into stone bowls. So we make our own songs to contain these things, make ceremonies and poems, searching for a new way to speak, to say we want a new way to live in the world, to say that wilderness and water, blue herons and orange newts are invaluable not just to us, but in themselves, in the workings of the natural world that rules us whether we acknowledge it or not.�
August 19, 2022
Several years ago, a woman I know lent me Linda Hogan's native memoir "The Woman Who Watches Over The World". When I finished it, it was gifted to me and I have kept it among those few books I keep and treasure without passing them along. While I've forgotten most of that story, this spring, I was introduced to Hogan's Dwellings and I immediately recognized her voice.
Hogan's work is unmistakable. While Powers "The Overstory" takes more than 500 pages to tell the story of trees and our place beside them, Hogan's book of essays tells "A Spiritual History of the Living World" in just 159 small pages. The San Francisco Examiner called it "A beautifully poetic book of wonder." and I can hardly think of a better description.
Each essay moved me closer to being and wound me more interconnectedly with the rest of the natural world and all of humanity.
An excerpt from the final chapter: "Tonight, I walk. I am watching the sky. I think of the people who came before me and how they knew the placement of stars in the sky, watched the moving sun long and hard enough to witness how a certain angle of light touched a stone only once a year. Without written records, they knew the gods of every night, the small, fine detail of the world around them and of immensity above them. ... Walking, I am listening to a deeper way. Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. Be still, they say. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands."
I will treasure this voice and am glad to have met her again along my path.
Hogan's work is unmistakable. While Powers "The Overstory" takes more than 500 pages to tell the story of trees and our place beside them, Hogan's book of essays tells "A Spiritual History of the Living World" in just 159 small pages. The San Francisco Examiner called it "A beautifully poetic book of wonder." and I can hardly think of a better description.
Each essay moved me closer to being and wound me more interconnectedly with the rest of the natural world and all of humanity.
An excerpt from the final chapter: "Tonight, I walk. I am watching the sky. I think of the people who came before me and how they knew the placement of stars in the sky, watched the moving sun long and hard enough to witness how a certain angle of light touched a stone only once a year. Without written records, they knew the gods of every night, the small, fine detail of the world around them and of immensity above them. ... Walking, I am listening to a deeper way. Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. Be still, they say. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands."
I will treasure this voice and am glad to have met her again along my path.
March 13, 2025
Tive muita dificuldade com a leitura desse livro quando peguei ele pela primeira vez. A linguagem poética com que a Hogan fala do mundo vivo, na minúcia de tantas espécies, na delicadeza de tantas vidas, contrastou de maneira meio insuportável com a desesperança e o ceticismo ambientais terríveis que tomaram conta de mim depois da enchente no meu estado. Não queria saber das águias lutando pela posse de uma cobra em pleno ar. Queria me fechar no meu apartamento e esquecer que existia perigo -- que existia vida, agência não humana -- lá fora. Alguns meses se passaram e consegui retomar, agora com o medo da chuva não tão mais à flor da pele, e com outras coisas da minha vida me levando a buscar sossego no mar, na lua, nessas vidas de outras espécies com linguagens que eu não entendo bem, mas que às vezes justamente via mistério tornam tudo mais nítido. O que encontrei nesse livro na segunda leitura foi uma revisita aos meus valores espirituais e a perguntas que eu me fazia quando criança: que lugar a gente ocupa no mundo ou deve ocupar? como pensam e sentem os que não são humanos? será que eles me entendem, será que eu entendo eles? Foi uma leitura muito bonita, feita na beira da praia quando eu tava viajando, e me colocou lágrimas nos olhos em vários momentos. Acho que o texto daqui que mais me impactou foi "The Voyagers". Recomendo pra quem anda se sentindo particularmente sensível aos e sedenta pelos mistérios e as maravilhas da vida na terra.
June 25, 2024
Dwellings is an essay collection by Chickasaw American writer Linda Hogan. My favorite essays here were What Holds the Water. What Holds the Light. Deify the Wolves. Creations.
Notes...
Notes...
March 26, 2022
I wish I had discovered Linda Hogan 30 years ago. Her essays about the earth are equal parts poetry and passion:
"We do not know the secrets of stars. We do not know the true history of water. We do not know ourselves. We have forgotten that this land and every life-form is a piece of god, a divine community, with the same forces of creation in plants as in people. All the lives around us are lives of gods. The long history of creation that has shaped plankton, and shaped horseshoe crabs, has shaped our human being. Everything is Maker; mangroves, termites, all are sources of one creation or another. Without respect and reverence for it, there is an absence of holiness, of any God."
Published in 1995 - what have we learned since then?
"We do not know the secrets of stars. We do not know the true history of water. We do not know ourselves. We have forgotten that this land and every life-form is a piece of god, a divine community, with the same forces of creation in plants as in people. All the lives around us are lives of gods. The long history of creation that has shaped plankton, and shaped horseshoe crabs, has shaped our human being. Everything is Maker; mangroves, termites, all are sources of one creation or another. Without respect and reverence for it, there is an absence of holiness, of any God."
Published in 1995 - what have we learned since then?
July 2, 2024
Poetic & enchanting. Hogan helps to restore our connection to the loss divine aspects of ourselves. She states that the disconnection from ourselves derives from our lack of connection with the earth. Us and the earth are one entity. We exist only briefly and then we turn ourselves back over to the earth, once again returning to that which birthed us. We must listen to the intuitive voice within ourselves that reaches far back to the origin of existence. I really enjoyed this book, it was further confirmation that god is all around us. “What does god look like? These fish, this water, this land.�
“To dream of the universe is to know that we are small and brief as insects, born in a flash of rain and gone a moment later. We are delicate and our world is fragile.�
“To dream of the universe is to know that we are small and brief as insects, born in a flash of rain and gone a moment later. We are delicate and our world is fragile.�
January 13, 2024
I went searching for this book because of a quote that I found over six years ago that was attributed to the author. Turns out it was the very last line of the book, but I'm so glad it led me to the rest of her beautiful words.
This book is a love song to the earth and all its inhabitants. It dances with life and death, with creativity and destruction, with beauty and decay. If you loved reading Braiding Sweetgrass, I would highly recommend Linda Hogan's writing to you. Although nearly 30 years old, this book feels desperately relevant to the crises we find ourselves facing today.
And her stories and memories will stir a romance for the earth in you again.
This book is a love song to the earth and all its inhabitants. It dances with life and death, with creativity and destruction, with beauty and decay. If you loved reading Braiding Sweetgrass, I would highly recommend Linda Hogan's writing to you. Although nearly 30 years old, this book feels desperately relevant to the crises we find ourselves facing today.
And her stories and memories will stir a romance for the earth in you again.
February 7, 2025
Perhaps the most moving book I have ever read. After feeling disconnected from nature and the natural rhythms of life on earth, this book was the perfect salve. Hogan's writings remind us of our intricate relations with all life on this earth and restore a sense of belonging to the oneness of it all. This book will make you want to go sit in a forest and listen to the trees and encourage you to look for beauty and connection in all things and beings, big and small.
My favourite piece was A Different Yield, which is also published online, and I highly recommend it even if you don't read the whole book (although I highly recommend that too).
My favourite piece was A Different Yield, which is also published online, and I highly recommend it even if you don't read the whole book (although I highly recommend that too).
February 23, 2017
Quiet, beautiful, and hopeful. If I had my own copy, I would have dog-eared so many pages.
Other random thoughts:
-It takes a very special person (and the best kind of nature-lover) to write as beautifully and lovingly about a trail of maggots leaving a dead porcupine as of an eagle soaring through the air.
-I want to read everything Linda Hogan has ever written now.
-I was so excited by the story she told about Naomi Shihab Nye, because I also love Naomi Shihab Nye's work, and OF COURSE THEY ARE FRIENDS. <3
Other random thoughts:
-It takes a very special person (and the best kind of nature-lover) to write as beautifully and lovingly about a trail of maggots leaving a dead porcupine as of an eagle soaring through the air.
-I want to read everything Linda Hogan has ever written now.
-I was so excited by the story she told about Naomi Shihab Nye, because I also love Naomi Shihab Nye's work, and OF COURSE THEY ARE FRIENDS. <3
August 6, 2020
I enjoyed her voice and many of her descriptions, and I think I will look at some of her other writing. But I failed to detect any narrative thread or dramatic arc within or across the essays. After about halfway through, the lack of cohesion, tension or progression made reading this book rather boring and tedious. Rather than a "spiritual history," this was an assortment of individual chapters containing observations and musings which had been previously published, later gathered hastily into this one volume without any overarching purpose.
March 31, 2019
While I enjoyed the perspectives and quotable sentiments in this collection of essays, it lacked cohesiveness for me - both within the individual essays and as a collective. Towards the end of the book, especially, the writing appeared to be more random observations than pointing the reader to specific conclusions. Perhaps it was too subtle for me, but I would have preferred knowing what Hogan was driving at with the random ideas she shared.
December 19, 2020
A collection of deep and rich observations of the world around us. Having been so wrapped up in thoughts about the past, future, career, and everything stressful, this book felt like fresh balm to my spirit with its gently bringing my attention and gratitude back to earth and nature, to all of its beauty and mistery hidden in plain sight.
A book I find myself going back to, which never fails to take a weight off my shoulders with its meditative and contemplative considerations.
A book I find myself going back to, which never fails to take a weight off my shoulders with its meditative and contemplative considerations.
January 8, 2021
I have not read such an amazing book in a while. Wow! That was how I felt the whole time I was reading this book. It spoke to my soul, to the deepest part of my heart. Actually I felt it reflects me and the way I think and feel. I’m grateful for my Professor for introducing Linda Hogan to me. I completely love this book, and I highly recommend it to anyone willing to open up to understand how we are part of this universe and are not the masters but rather equals to all living organisms.
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