On an intellectual level I always knew it was important to protect the environment. Rationally, I understood that if the earth isn't thriving, we can't thrive. But it wasn't until I moved to the forest that environmentalism ceased to be just a rational concept. It became deeply personal. Living in the city for 25 years had disconnected me from the environment so much so that I no longer had any direct relationship to the earth and therefore no passion behind my philosophy. It was something I believed in but lacked the energy to do much about.
Moving to nature changed that in a fundamental way. The contrast of living in the density of the San Francisco Bay Area (inhabited by 7 million people) to the forest, surrounded by lush, green, mossy trees, plants of infinite varieties, clear streams, gushing waterfalls, and creatures of all kinds interacting in a vast pulsing, vibrant, alive web, was stark and had a profound impact on me. I moved to nature with a handful of chronic health issues, depression and anxiety, but after months of sitting under giant redwood trees, taking long walks through the woods, wading in streams, listening to the sounds of nature, my nervous system began to reset. Surrounded by LIFE, I came back to life. I genuinely felt welcomed home. Every day was a celebration of life right outside my door and I could feel it all beckoning me closer. In that healthy environment, my body began to heal and come back into balance.
I had not only stepped back into a world of health and vitality, but of enchantment, wonder, and a kind of magic I had once known but long forgotten. Memories flooded me of having known this experience before, of having had a close relationship to the earth as a child. It was a simple knowing that I belonged to the earth and knew who I was in it. My worth, my value, my place and purpose were never in question there. I KNEW who I was and I knew my potential. My reunion with nature reminded me of who I was again. I was not just reuniting with nature but I was reuniting with my truest self.
Without all of the distractions of the city, I surrendered to the quiet, spaciousness. I got still and began to FEEL again. In that process I let go of layers of protective armor. I softened back into my animal body and was overcome with waves of grief. I grieved my long separation from the earth. I grieved having denied myself something so vital for my health and well being. I grieved how closed off I had become to others, and even myself. And for the first time I wept at what was happening to our planet. I could feel her pain and grief at our disconnection from her.
Environmental destruction wasn't something happening "out there" anymore. It was happening to me and my beloved home. I wept at my arrogance, at all the years spent selfishly focused on material gain and personal success. The blinders had come off. I could suddenly see the enormous cost and toll the obsession with MY life had on the earth, my relationships, and on my health and happiness. Prior to moving to nature, I was a relational mess. I never would have guessed that nature would become my greatest teacher of intimate relationship, of communion with another. It slowly cracked me open to life, to natural beauty, to being deeply impacted by the smallest of things like the shimmering light reflected off a dragonfly’s intricate lace wings. It also showed me that suffering, grief, and death are no longer something to resist and avoid, but are necessary and sacred in the life cycle.
With 80% of humans now living in towns and cities, it's no wonder our environment is collapsing. We no longer have a direct relationship to the land, trees, water and animals. They exist somewhere “out there” and therefore it’s been easy to look the other way while our governments and corporations plunder in the name of our economic growth and making our lives more convenient. We may think systems that create greater ease and convenience are what we want, but what I have learned is that we are most craving remembering who we are. We are craving that unquestionable knowing of who we are and how we belong. We are craving the sacred and being in sacred community with each other. We are craving doing meaningful work that doesn't just bring a paycheck but has us coming home at the end of our days feeling more connected, fulfilled and proud of what we are contributing and creating, together. We are craving deeper more emotionally intimate relationships with each other, and while you may not feel it now, you are craving a closer relationship to this earth. It’s something we remember when we lay down in the grass and let the sun warm our skin, or feel the thrill of a hawk’s piercing call as it flies overhead. When we allow those experiences in, they open us to the world. We become intimate again with our environment and remember who we are. As our glaciers continue to melt and our forests burn, it's time we returned Home, to the forests, to the deserts, to the coasts, to the places of our ancestors. It's time to come home, to grieve together what's been lost, and to allow the earth to LEAD US back into relationship again.
If you’re interested in my grief ritual work or my upcoming Grief as a Gateway online women’s circle, check out my “Work with Me” page and/or sign up to receive email updates at my home page www.rosalynfay.com.