There was a time when the world itself was alive in our imagination. Rivers had voices, mountains carried stories, and the wind was the breath of God moving across creation. The world was not a collection of objects to be used but a shared relationship to be honored.
Somewhere along the way, that vision faded.
First came the philosophers, teaching that truth lived beyond this world, and in perfect forms untouched by dust or decay. Then the church, seeking respectability in a rational age, learned to mistrust matter and treat the earth as a temporary staging ground for salvation. When science rose to replace religion as our dominant story, it went even further, reducing the cosmos to mechanism and stripping it of personality, agency, and soul.
What began as a quest for understanding became a habit of reduction. Everything living was divided into parts. It was weighed, measured, and explained until it seemed lifeless. The sacred presence that once shimmered in trees, rivers, and stars was exiled to heaven or erased entirely.
But this exile is does not the end of the story.
Beneath the asphalt and algorithms something in us still remembers. It stirs when a bird crosses our path, when a storm rolls in, or when silence falls thick enough for us to feel the pulse of the earth again.
That remembering is what re-enchantment is really about. It’s not superstition or nostalgia. It’s the work of mending a relationship that was never meant to be broken. We are repairing the bond between spirit and matter.
Reductionism and the Loss of Communion
Maybe the problem was never science itself. The problem was the story we told about it.
Science began as a way of wondering. Scientist standing before creation with humility and awe. But somewhere along the way, that curiosity gave way to control. What could not be measured was dismissed. What could not be monetized was ignored.
This shift was towards the reductionist worldview of scientific materialism. This is the belief that the cosmos must be stripped of every trace of soul or purpose. It believes that life can be understood only by dissecting it into parts.
Reductionism turns the living world into data. It has a way of turning trees into timber and rivers into resources. Under its spell bodies become machines, and spirit becomes an abstraction floating somewhere far away.
At first, this way of seeing helped us build and adapt. It gave us medicine, technology, and the ability to shape our environment. But what once brought comfort has now become a form of estrangement. It has trained us to analyze rather than to relate, and to name things rather than to know them.
Over time, this same mindset has shaped the way we see ourselves. Now what once helped us organize a complex world now keeps us from communion and belonging.
When we forget that we are part of a living whole, then we start to treat both the earth and our own souls as raw material. We exploit what we should revere. If we take a breath we can see that beneath the surface of all our striving, a quiet hunger remains. We are missing the living conversation between ourselves and the world around us.
The good news is that this way of knowing is not lost. It is has just been forgotten.
The Forgotten Animism of Christianity
Long before Christianity was shaped by Greek philosophy, its roots were alive with animism. The early followers of Jesus lived in a world where rivers, trees, and stars were not inert things, but signs pulsing with divine presence. Spirit was not somewhere else; it was here, breathing through all that lives.
In the Gospel of John, we read, “In the beginning was the Word… and through the Word all things came into being.” That is not a story of separation but of deep participation. The same Spirit that breathed life into Adam is the breath moving through the wind, the sea, and every creature that walks the earth.
Paul understood this too. In his letter to the Romans, he wrote that the invisible qualities of God are clearly seen in the things that have been made. For him, creation itself was revelation. It was alive, intelligent, and radiant with divinity.
Over time, that sense of aliveness was muted. As the church grew within a Greek-speaking world, Plato’s influence turned attention upward and away. Matter became suspect, and creation was treated as a backdrop to human salvation rather than a partner in it.
To be clear, Christianity did not start this way. The Psalms are filled with songs of rivers clapping their hands, mountains shouting for joy, and trees praising the Creator. St. Francis of Assisi called the sun his brother and the moon his sister. Hildegard of Bingen spoke of the “greening power” of God flowing through all life. Meister Eckhart said that every creature is a word of God.
This is what I mean by Christian animism, its the ancient recognition that creation is alive and related. It is not about worshiping nature but remembering that nature itself worships. The Spirit we call holy moves through every leaf, stone, and feather.
To recover this vision is to remember that faith is larger than the human soul. All of creation becomes a living expression of the Divine.
Re-enchantment and the Way Forward
When we lose our sense of a living world, we lose something inside ourselves. The same mindset that divides spirit from matter also divides us from our own bodies, our emotions, and a deeper knowing. Reductionism teaches us to analyze and control, but not how to belong.
Paul Kingsnorth calls this “the Machine”, its a system built on endless extraction, convenience, and speed. It promises mastery over the earth but leaves us emptier than before. We have gained the power to shape the planet while forgetting how to be shaped by it.
Re-enchantment is the work of remembering. It asks us to see creation not as an object to use but as a communion to join. It is the movement from consumption toward relationship.
At its heart, this is not a rejection of science or progress, but a call to balance. The scientific mind can measure the world, but only the re-enchanted heart can truly meet it. To heal our relationship with the earth, we must also heal our relationship with the parts of ourselves we have exiled.
When we begin to sense the world as alive again, then reverence follows naturally. A stream becomes more than water to be used; it becomes a voice in the chorus of creation. The soil beneath our feet is no longer only dirt, but the skin of a holy earth.
Re-enchantment is not about returning to superstition. It is about returning to wonder. It is remembering that we are participants in the sacred conversation of life.
The Return to Wonder
The story of disconnection has been told for so long that it can feel like the only story we know. But beneath it, another story has always been waiting, and it is one of belonging.
Christian animism reminds us that the Word did not just become flesh once, two thousand years ago. The Word keeps becoming flesh. It shimmers in every sunrise, sings through every bird, and moves in the breath within our chests. The same Spirit that filled Christ fills the world.
Re-enchantment begins with remembering this.
To honor creation is to honor the Creator. The task before us is not to build a new world, but to awaken to the one already alive and speaking all around us.
Step outside today.
Let the air meet your skin.
Listen.
Notice.
Let the veil between you and the living world grow thin again.
Keith Rowe is a breathworker, teacher, and founder of Vital Healing, a nonprofit that helps people reconnect with the wisdom of their heart through breathwork, somatic practice, and walking meditation.
He is co-creator of the upcoming Walking Pilgrim app, a 33-day journey of mindful walking and presence. Sign up to receive updates for when it is released at walkingpilgrim.com.