The Montreal Biodome is a museum featuring replicas of five distinct ecosystems from the Americas: the Laurentian Maple Forest, Tropical Rainforest, Gulf of St. Lawrence, Sub-Antarctic region, and Labrador Coast. Home to more than 2500 animals and 800 varieties of plants, among other life forms, each ecosystem meticulously recreates socio-natural landscapes, stimulating an experiential interpretation of multispecies spaces and places. Although I understand why countless people criticize the Biodome, like any zoological institution, as a place that traps and limits animals’ agency and freedom for human entertainment, it is nevertheless a resilient and self-sustaining Space of Life where care, love and a sense of togetherness thrive among various species. Countless professionals, such as veterinarians, animal care technicians, horticultural specialists, living collection curators, science educators, and geologists, help maintain the well-being of the space’s non-human dwellers. They nourish and care for them – but they are not alone in that endeavour. Plants, animals, fungi, and other life forms live, breathe, and grow together here; they take care of each other, listen to another and, in the words of Donna Haraway, “become-with each other” (2016: 58). Appreciation of, and between, species makes things happen. At the Biodome, species come together to create five breathable, livable ecosystems, and by doing so, they make life happen.

Experiencing the Aliveness embodied within the atmospheres of the Biodome is beyond observation, as its depths are felt through every inhale and exhale. We are not looking at, admiring or analyzing an art piece or an ancient relic, but at moving, breathing, loving creatures who see us, feel us, hear us, smell us and breathe with us. As such, each ecosystem cultivates a sense of aliveness that is lived, embodied and felt through multispecies interactions.

Upon entering the Tropical Rainforest, I was instantly immersed in its physical atmosphere and became more attuned to my surroundings. Where am I? What stories do I feel? Who is there? I see parents and grandparents running after children, I see groups of teenagers taking pictures, I see couples walking around hand in hand.  Then I hear a little girl in her stroller, pointing while excitedly saying “ohhh! Perrots! Perrots!” I turn around to see three red parrots fighting while a blue parrot watches them. I wonder what the blue one thinks. Is she disappointed? Embarrassed? Annoyed? What is she thinking? Perhaps, “What’s wrong with y’all? People are watching us!” Ouff, it’s so humid here, so hot, so humid, I am being cooked in an oven like a loaf of bread. If only I could swim, I would bathe alongside the Caiman in its waterbed right behind me. It’s so hot, so humid, I can’t breathe properly. Yet, the soothing sounds of the waterfalls transport me to a calming state.

I continue walking through the Tropical Rainforest. Suddenly, I notice this beautiful pinkish-orange plant amongst the greenery. I instantly stop and walk towards it. Standing still, intrigued and mesmerized, I fall in love with its beauty. I had never seen this kind of plant. Is that a flower? What plant is this? Who are you? What is your purpose in life? The Coral Aphelandra embodies a fire, not one that destructs, but one that ignites a light and brings a sense of warmth. Singing the song of a sunset, I hear her, I see her, I feel her, within and beyond her Aliveness.

Amid the deep breath of the rainforest, the coral aphelandra emerges from the depths of greenness and tells the story of how she loves the sun, the earth, and the sky. Her vibrant being blooms as she reaches towards the sky and tells us another story of how, in the breathing heat of the rainforest, she kissed the sun and began to exhale colours of orange and pink. Full of love, light and warmth, she glows and radiates.

What can she teach humans? What is her personality? What are her stories? What secrets does she hold? What do birds whisper to her? How does she cry, caress and laugh with her plant and animal friends? What does the loudness and aliveness of the coral aphelandra symbolize in various cultures? How is she used and perceived by not only people, but also other living creatures?

I realize that being present and feeling the Biodome’s Tropical Rainforest allow me to acknowledge the ways in which becoming attuned to its aliveness cultivates embodied connections with lifeforms. Paying attention to the coral aphelandra in a felt, lived way enables me to understand her aliveness through my aliveness: the same air I breathe, she breathes. Through the deeply felt realization that we share each inhale and exhale, I cultivate an appreciation towards plants, one that is inexplicable with words. The coral aphelandra and I connected within and beyond the flows and rhythms of what it means to be alive with each other; an atmosphere of awe and wonder emanates from our deeply felt and lived connection.

After this meaningful interaction, I find the stairs alongside the wall and I slowly go up. I reach the Mezzanine floor, an open space all white and bright. The only pop of colour is the Bio-Machine exhibition’s mustard yellow aesthetic. However, the space embodies a vibrant lushness that is silently loud and intangibly felt.

The mezzanine floor's design offers an aerial perspective of two ecosystems: the Laurentian Maple Forest and the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Standing still on the mezzanine floor, through thick grid-like, black fences, I observe the Maple Forest. I feel the greens and browns and the becomings of life. From above, the tall trees, formations of rocks, waterfalls, little plants with white flowers, and the hidden metal trays that serve food for animals feel so small. Although I try to be present from a  ‘zoomed out’ perspective, I am not able to connect to the ecosystem and its sense of Aliveness. Despite being able to observe human behaviours and their interaction with the space, I feel detached from it all. I feel suffocated due to the black grid. Am I imprisoned in a cage? In this very moment, why is it difficult to immerse myself in the depths of aliveness? I think to myself, ‘perhaps, if I were standing in the Laurentian Maple Forest, I would be able to taste the maple syrup embodied within its atmosphere.”

After a few minutes, I turn around and walk towards the Gulf of St. Lawrence ecosystem. It’s as if I am staring into a void; my sense of disconnection succumbs to me. Although I appreciate the aerial view, I know that I must be inside it to grasp a sense of its aliveness. The moment I decide to leave and take the staircase to my right, one that will take me to the Gulf of St. Lawrence, an Eastern Bluebird lands right in front of my face. I freeze. I don’t move. I don’t breathe. I am scared to scare it away. He is simply present and stares into my soul. I do not have to be scared; he is not going anywhere.

The Eastern Bluebird and I create together a moment of awe and wonder. Instantly, I begin to be anchored in my presence and become immersed in its gaze. It is not I who is trying to understand him, but he who is acknowledging my sense of aliveness. In this exact moment, the black grid disappears. No barriers exist; we immerse ourselves in each other’s felt worlds. In a world where I often feel lonely despite being an extrovert, I feel seen and heard. I would have never predicted that a bird would recognize me for my existence and my whole being.

I am in awe of this small creature. I admire his sky-coloured wings, rusty-red chest and pearly white belly. He appears so soft, so sweet. When I move a few inches, he moves too. How is he not flying away? Usually, when I approach a place where birds casually sunbathe or eat, they fly away. Even my friends, Sasha and Simran’s pet birds, Leo and Bloom, do not exactly care to engage with me, even though I have interacted with them more than a hundred times. What is this Eastern Bluebird doing so close to my face? Does this proximity help him feel my aliveness? Can he feel deep within my soul? All my joys and sorrows? My heartaches? What about the moments of love and gratitude, embodied deep within my sense of being and belonging?  Can he sense the real, authentic me? Is he judging me? Or is he immersing within the depths of my aliveness?

He begins to move his little blue head as if he is analyzing me. And, suddenly, he chirps while still looking me in the eyes. I smile and say, “Hi, you!” and he responds with a few more chirping sounds as if he were replying to me with a complete sentence. He spreads his wings and flies in a circle, still close to the black grid. I move a little, and he lands right in front of my face again. This time, I feel the electric wind created by his strong wings on my face. Startled, I close my eyes by reflex. How can a little bird make such a powerful impact? I open my eyes to see him staring at me once again. I exclaim, “What are you searching for?” and he replies with a soothing, flute-like birdsong. I feel an atmosphere of healing, protection and love surrounding me. Listening, as in paying attention to his melody and sense of being, evokes a groundness, as I am being pulled into a sphere of life. The gentle chirping grounds my soul in a stillness, a stillness of movements, anchoring an awareness in the simplicity of the present moment. I tear up and feel warmth travel through my cold body. Is this how it feels to be known by an Eastern bluebird?

It is as though the world stopped moving, and the only movement that is felt is through each inhale and exhale. Rejuvenating inhales and exhales; vitalizing inhales and exhales; anchoring inhales and exhales;  ones that allow me to cultivate a meaningful awareness of the experiences and expressions of breathing. A few minutes ago, I recognized and immersed myself within the aliveness of the Coral Aphelandra, and now I find myself in a serendipitous encounter with an Eastern Bluebird who is recognizing my aliveness. Being immersed in their species worlds, I begin to understand the intensity, abundance, and sheer depths of Aliveness dwelling within the Biodome’s atmospheres.