Animist practice is often framed as connection: listening, dialogue, relationship. But connection can slide into projection. This essay explores a different starting point. One grounded in discipline, restraint, and training attention before interpretation, so that whatever responds does so on its own terms.

Summer in Tasmania brings fire, heat, long evenings — and the sound of lawn mowers drifting through the valley. What used to be background noise has become an invitation: a way of listening that shifts how the world feels and how I inhabit it. This piece explores attention as participation, spirit as presence, and the subtle animacy that reveals itself when we lean in.

What does it mean to live in a world that is fully alive? For me, affirming animism as the core of my worldview was both overwhelming and clarifying. Every action ripples outward, touching land, beings, and futures. The realization brought grief and despair, but also a sense of direction and hope. Animism isn’t theory — it’s relationship. Once you know the world is alive, you can’t unknow it. The question becomes: so now what?