Our Intricate Webs of Communication

 Rather than being alone on this earth, we live among an enormous landscape of living creatures, large and small. It blows my mind to think about it. Everywhere I look here at my desk, there is evidence: the sparrow eating echinacea seeds outside my window, the cobweb behind the file cabinet, the geraniums blooming on the sill. We exist within a multitude of others. And we, the creatures of the earth, have formed a trillion ways of communicating with each other. We are so used to this phenomenon that mostly we don't notice it happening. But when you stop to look more closely at what is going on around you, it is remarkable and awe-inspiring.

Even when I was young, 7 or 8, I became fascinated with communication. I had pen pals all over the globe, and my favorite time of day was when the mailman drove up to our mailbox with letters. It was so exciting to be actually exchanging words, stories, life experiences with people around my age who lived so very, very far away. By the time I was born, our species had developed sophisticated ways to talk to each other at a distance: letters, phone calls, telegrams, radio, TV. We had come a long way from early human communication which was probably mostly non-verbal: gestures, touch, non-word sounds. And in the past 30 years, our human forms of communication have gone wild and almost overwhelming. Sometimes you just have to turn the devices off and get a little rest from them.

This morning I woke up very slowly. I became aware that I was no longer sleeping, but I was totally relaxed. Not a muscle in my body moved. I lay in that peaceful state for some time, remembering that I had no commitments until afternoon. As far as I could tell, I was completely still except for my slow breathing. Then one of my toes moved slightly, and immediately my beautiful black cat Shadow jumped up onto the bed to tell me good morning. Shadow is very polite. She knows that her round soft bed on the floor is where she sleeps and that I'm not ready for visitors until I'm awake. So this morning without meaning to, I communicated to her that I was awake. And she came to greet me, to receive some soft strokes from my hands, to purr and curl up beside me. It's a lovely way to start my day. This communication started with Shadow noticing my toe move and ended with a very sweet mutual exchange.

In the animal world, of which we humans are a part, our mobility helps us communicate. Geese flying in flocks across the sky are communicating with each other by honking, flight patterns, and mysterious (to us) cues. The mother fox in her den cares for her babies and then takes them out to learn the ways of the world. The growl of the enraged bear protecting her young is communication that no one can fail to understand. Yet what about life that has no legs, no voice, no ears and even no brain as we know it? What about plants? And bacteria, fungus, mold? What about them? Now we know beyond any doubt that these "immobile" life forms DO communicate. 

If I stop here, it will propel me into some more research and another blog post soon. Stay tuned!

Comments

  1. I could swear there's a crow that greets me regularly in the alley behind our house who has something very particular to say to me. I'm not sure what it is yet, but I'm listening.

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  2. Fascinating to read how, when you awakened, communication worked between you and your cat: nonverbal communication, where you both "know" what it means when your toe moves. Also, how sensitive of Shadow to wait for that signal!

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