I had no idea what “kith” meant, so I figured I should start there—because I bet I’m not alone.
Lyanda Lynn Haupt, in Rooted: Life at the Crossroads of Science, Nature, and Spirit, writes:
“Where kin are relations of kind, kith is relationship based on knowledge of place—the close landscape, ‘one’s square mile,’ where each tree and neighbor and robin and fox and stone is known, not by map or guide but by heart. Kith is intimacy with a place, its landmarks, its fragrance, the habits of its wildlings. Kithship enlivens kinship.” ~pp. 25–26 (Kindle Edition)
It’s a fascinating concept, especially now that my life is lived between two “kiths.” I spend 10–12 days each month in the Wood River Valley of Idaho—what many people know simply as Sun Valley—and the rest of my time in my new home of Bellingham, Washington. Both are stunningly beautiful, and both offer something very different to the heart.
My Kith of Bellingham
If you’ve never been to Washington—or Bellingham, for that matter—let me share a bit of the landscape that lives inside me. Bellingham sits at sea level and yes, Western Washington earns its reputation for rain. That rain is why everything is so green, so lush, so alive. Because we are further north (only 21 miles from the Canadian border!), winter brings more snow and crisp air.
We are a land of water—lakes, rivers, streams—and the city itself opens into Bellingham Bay at the northern edge of Puget Sound. Washington has five major volcanoes, and I have always lived near one. Right now, I’m only 27 miles from Mt. Baker.
My neighborhood has deer, squirrels, and occasionally a black bear who wanders through like he owns the place. (And honestly, he probably thinks he does.)
My Kith of the Wood River Valley
My kith in the Valley is new; my first visit was in May—and yes, it snowed that weekend. The average altitude is about 5,500 feet, depending on where you stand. The Valley is made up of four towns—Bellevue, Hailey, Ketchum, and Sun Valley—each with its own charm.
I love the Aspen trees. In fall they turn brilliant reds and yellows, and when the wind moves through them, they “quack.” It’s a sound that goes straight to the soul.
And the elk—oh my goodness, the elk. Herds of them. They sit at the roadside during evening traffic, waiting patiently for cars to thin so they can cross to where they sleep for the night. The speed limit is lowered at dusk—nobody wants to meet an elk at 55 mph.
I’ve become quite enchanted with the Magpies, too. Maybe that would change if I lived there full-time, but for now they feel magical and beautiful.
And then there is Light on the Mountains. The first time I saw it, I literally stopped the car. It takes your breath away.
Kith, Kin, and Science of Mind
So what does any of this have to do with the teachings of Science of Mind?
In our Declaration of Principles, Ernest Holmes writes:
“We believe in God, the Living Spirit Almighty; one, indestructible, absolute, and self-existent Cause. This One manifests Itself in and through all creation, but is not absorbed by Its creation.
The manifest universe is the body of God; it is the logical and necessary outcome of the infinite self-knowingness of God.”
I look at my life in two sections: before discovering the Science of Mind teachings and after. One of the greatest differences is my awareness—my connection to my “kith,” the place where I stand in the moment, and my connection to my “kin,” which for me is all humanity.
It is important to remember we are all connected energetically. I’m not always fond of that idea—and yet I know it’s true, because I believe “the manifest universe is the body of God.” Which means everything—every tree, every human, every elk, every raindrop—is Divine Intelligence expressing Itself in form.
And because of that truth, it matters what I think, how I feel, what I say, how I react. We are not isolated little islands; we are dominos in a vast field of consciousness.
So I’ll leave you with these questions:
What are your predominant thoughts today?
Are you noticing the beauty of the place you inhabit—your own kith?
Or are you complaining about the weather?
Are you offering grace to the people you encounter?
Or are you judging their appearance or behavior?
We are responsible for the reality we create. I may not always notice the beauty or feel the connection, and yet every single day, I am doing my best. And that’s all any of us can do—show up awake, aware, and willing to be part of the great weaving of kith, kin, and the Divine expressing as each of us.
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