Tuning In: Timothy Morton, Theology, and the Ecology of Attention

Hi folks, I hope you are doing ok? This week we are meeting at the Tavern Galley at 7.30, I hope you can make it along.

I am nearly finished reading All Art Is Ecological, a penguin series of short essays, i have read a couple of them, they are worth a look. I expected arguments about climate change, environmental art, and sustainability. What I didn’t expect was a challenge to the way I think about art, faith, and community.

In her reflection Your Brain on Art, Leanne Ogasawara highlights Timothy Morton’s claim that art matters not because it gives us answers, but because it helps us dwell in ambiguity. Rather than pushing us towards certainty, art teaches us to stay with complexity.

As I contemplated my own journey of faith, spirituality, art and life, I realised that that idea has been an ever present, way beyond the pages of the book.

As you may know, over the last couple of years, Beachcomber has been exploring nature through a theological lens. At first glance, this seems quite different from Morton’s ecological philosophy. Yet the more I read, the more I realise they are asking a similar question:

Not How do we solve nature?

But How do we learn to notice it?

Over recent months we’ve explored four themes:

• The Wonders of the Wild
• Seasonal Shifts
• Nature’s Forces
• Healing in Nature

These themes have opened up conversations about growth, change, restoration, belonging, and our place within creation.

Morton argues that ecology isn’t simply about trees, rivers, or endangered species. It’s about relationships. We are not separate observers standing outside the world. We are participants within it.

In a theological, faith context, this feels significant. The bible often presents creation not as scenery, but as community. Seasons become metaphors for hope and renewal. Gardens become places of encounter. Storms reveal our vulnerability and dependence.

One idea that keeps surfacing in Morton’s work is attunement. Paying attention. Noticing what is already there.

His examples are wonderfully ordinary: pet a cat, smell the leaves in a garden centre, notice something beyond yourself. These aren’t acts of activism. They are acts of perception.

The same can be said of many spiritual practices. Prayer, contemplation, walking, gardening, and Sabbath all help us become attentive. They don’t primarily provide information. They help us tune ourselves to realities that were present all along.

This has challenged my assumptions about ecological thinking. If Morton is right, then ecology is not just about environmental issues. Anything that helps reveal interconnectedness can be ecological.

A community discussion can be ecological.

A theological reflection can be ecological.

A simple question shared around a table can be ecological.

As we’ve explored these themes together, it has felt less like following a programme and more like learning to notice:

Notice the seasons.

Notice growth and decay.

Notice beauty.

Notice dependence.

Notice what connects us.

In a culture that constantly demands answers, there is something quietly radical about paying attention.

Perhaps that is where theology, spirituality, and ecology begin.

Not with certainty.

But with attunement.

With learning, once again, how to see.

References

• Your Brain on Art: Timothy Morton’s All Art Is Ecological (3 Quarks Daily)
• All Art Is Ecological by Timothy Morton.

Questions

• If you could spend a day anywhere in nature right now, where would it be and why?
• What’s something in nature you’ve come across recently that made you look twice?

• What’s a story, song, or film that’s stayed with you lately and kept coming back to you?

• What’s something in nature that you find fascinating, even if you don’t fully understand it?

• Do you think we spend enough time noticing the world around us, or are we usually too busy moving through it?

• Morton suggests that ecology is about relationships and connection. Where do you see those connections most clearly in your own life?

Peace, Rob

Photo by tookapic from Pixabay