Kinship: Islands
Community, relationality and belonging in a world of islands

Examine isolated communities as unique models of kinship, exploring how islands teach us about connection, interdependence, and collective care.

Hannah Close Picture

taught by Hannah Close

Module 1Islands as a metaphor

Hosted by
Leny StrobelDr Andreas Weber

We begin our journey exploring time, place, and interconnectedness. This module emphasises the relationship between separation and connection, inviting us to consider our place in the world and our shared existence.

Module 2The transformative power of poetry

Hosted by
Anna Arabindan-KessonDavid WhyteMaureen Penjueli

In module two, we explore interconnectedness, hidden histories, and the transformative power of poetry.

Module 3The celebration of difference

Hosted by
Dr Iain McGilchristHimali Singh Soin

They explore perception and difference: balancing sameness and difference in the brain, and a mythopoetic reflection on the shore-tide threshold and translucency as an erotic return to the natural.

Module 4The significance of kinship

Hosted by
Bathsheba DemuthAngaangaq Angakkorsuaq

Module four explores kinship with the more-than-human. Bathsheba Demuth traces shifting human-whale relationships, while Angaangaq Angakkorsuaq calls for unity, harmony, and youth learning to build relationships in a divided world.

Module 5Archipelagos, islands, and local cultures

Hosted by
David Gange

This module explores archipelagos, islands, and local cultures. Craig Santos Perez focuses on the significance of archipelagos in Pacific Islander literature, highlighting kinship, traditional knowledge, and decolonisation. David Gange examines the interconnectedness of island spaces through small family b...

Module 6The interdependence of island living

Hosted by
Alastair McIntoshKailea Frederick

To close our journey, Alastair McIntosh reflects on the interconnectedness and interdependence of living on the island of Lewis, highlighting the value of nurturing the soul and creating positive change. Kailea Frederick emphasises the importance of bridging worlds and identities in a divided society, usin...

We inhabit a world of islands…Our pale blue dot; a constellation of archipelagos buoyed amidst an even greater cosmos of celestial atolls. Like the billowing ocean tides, our terraqueous isle undulates toward the sun, moon and stars, impelling the transformation of matter at each turn, our planetary tidewrack visible in the fallen leaves and glacial floes.

Despite our separations, cosmic and interpersonal, we are all intimately connected. The poet John Donne famously said ‘no man is an island’, and while the biotic world relies on the creative expression of our individuality, our own ‘islandness’, in order to manifest itself, beneath the surface we discover, like islands, that we are inextricably joined.

We are joined at the oceanic root, at the depths of the seabed, and by the salt-stippled space between us. The seas of relation that meditate our entanglements are, in the same breath, domains of impasse traversed only through building arks and yielding to the winds that carry our words and wares in sensuous exchange, or by diving courageously into the unbroken fathoms between and among us.

Rally together as crew as we explore our earthly relations and the liquescent spaces that connect us. Each module, we will navigate towards a unique island of inquiry, mapping counter-cartographies of relationship along the way. Through tentacular engagement with self, other, and the more-than-human, we'll challenge colonial and essentialist notions of relationship so that we might orient ourselves towards healthier ways of being together, ways that honor our profound entanglements with our elemental home.

We'll reflect on the thresholds, boundaries and borders that mediate our belonging, seeking to unflatten the map through 'tidalectic' perspectives that offer welcome anchorage in a world adrift.

  • 6 Modules
  • 25 Sessions
  • 13 Speakers
  • Curated readings, resources and activities
  • Community discussion area
  • Deepen your understanding of the role of relationships in creating healthier ways of being (both individually and collectively)
  • Discover what kinship means in your own life & rediscover your sense of place/rootedness in the world (and self)
  • Expand knowledge of different ways of relating to self, human, and more-than-human beings
  • Re-evaluate the notion of the "other" through intersectional and "multi-perspectival" lenses
  • Cultivate deeper awareness of nuance, complexity, and the value of a "both/and" perspective
  • Gather tools and practices for deepening a multitude of relationships in your own life
  • Shift your perception of kinship towards more expansive, unorthodox and/or radical possibilities relevant to the issues and contexts we find ourselves entangled in today
  • Expand knowledge of useful terms and concepts, and be part of questioning what a new ecologically intregrous language might look like (or a language towards flourishing for all)

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The basket of community Picture

film

The basket of community

I grew up in the Outer Hebrides of Scotland, in the island known as Lewis in the north, with Harris to the south, the two divided not by sea but by a mountain range. When I look back now, some aspects of our life might seem hard. We got our drinking water off the roof as there was no piped supply when I was young. There were frequent power cuts, and little choice in the shops. That was all substituted for by the wonderful richness of community life. My father was one of the island’s doctors, and most of our neighbours worked the land, fished the sea, or were weavers of the famous fabric, Harris Tweed. I realise, now, that each of us was held in the basket of the community. You weren’t just your family, you were the village. You were taught how to be the village, the older folks weaving the weft to the warp of each child’s emergent life. In an island, you have to be interdependent, especially in those days, but it’s still the case. You learn to look out for one another. We didn’t just go fishing, or bring the peat (used for fuel) in for ourselves. We did these things for and with one another. Loneliness was much less when you could wander in and out of one other’s homes, the doors mostly unlocked. It’s true, religious life was a heavy scene. But as I’ve gotten older, and as the heaviness has loosened in the community, I’ve come to appreciate the spirituality of it all. Such is the kind of experience about which I can share a little and which shapes my books – especially Soil and Soul (on the campaign for land reform), Poacher’s Pilgrimage (about ecology, mythology and spirituality on a 12-day walk through the island) and Riders on the Storm (my latest book, with the subtitle, The Climate Crisis and the Survival of Being). World as archipelago? Well, just as natural ecology recognises the value of ‘ecological islands’ to give non-human life a chance, so we can perhaps create islands, metaphorically if not literally, in our lives, to give the life of the soul a chance. I see no other way to change the world.

An islander adrift on a continent Picture

film

An islander adrift on a continent

The mapmakers say that the world is made up of Islands and Continents. Today’s islands were, once upon a time, connected to larger land masses. The geologic movement of continental shelves and climate changes over millions of years speak to me today of a sense of Time that wants to interrupt my modern mind. As an Islander adrift on a continent called Turtle Island, I am slowly awakening and wanting to be liberated from the conditioning of a Modernity that demands that Time be controlled and parceled into pieces and be in sync with machines and rhythms that refuse to stay grounded and rooted in Place. Many indigenous peoples who know in their bones what it means to be rooted in Place are now, like me, also adrift in the “elsewhere”. We are diasporic. We are scattered. I come from 7000+ islands known as the Philippine archipelago that were once connected to the Sunda and Wallacea shelf until the rise and fall of sea levels over geologic Time created our islands. We were severed from our Austronesian kin; today we speak over a thousand languages that are all related but almost unintelligible to us. Western Colonization and empire-building came to our shores 500 years ago and after the genocide, after the stealing of lands, peoples, spices, gold, and silver; after the scattering of the pieces of ourselves, we are again hearing the call to return Home. Home is not a metaphor. Home is a Place. Home is an Archipelago. But can Home also be a Memory? A Vision of an Indigenous Future we would all want to live in? Can we live in Kapwa* Time where the past, present, and future live in our long bodies? *This Filipino concept refers to “You and I are One. In Kapwa there is no Other.”