Since I was a child, the natural world has had a great influence on me. Even when I was too young to put words to that influence—it was happening.
Part of my upbringing was spent on or near the Navajo reservation in New Mexico. As a 7-year-old, I knew instinctively that the red sandstone cliffs were my North and the expanse of sagebrush out the front door of our home meant East.
My first backpacking trip was at the age of 6 and I was proud to carry my own socks and a foraged stick for balance. I always used the same stick to stir the mystery of fire at evening camp.
Growing older I began to recognize myself in the land. I began to know who I was without a mirror. The waters of the world, particularly rivers, were cleansing me before I knew what that even meant. The earth has been rescuing me my entire life.
When my son left this realm, I was surrounded by concrete. I hadn’t noticed a tree in years. Soon after his memorial I know I was still in shock when I found myself on I-40 West with no plan and minimal coping skills. I was seeking dirt.
Lo and behold, I found myself on a cattle ranch in New Mexico feeding and inoculating cows in exchange for meager housing. Red cliffs to my North. Sage to the East. Plenty of dirt.
I share this here because I believe we can all be in service to the land we live on and that same land will return that gesture in spades.
My invitation to you is simple: take your shoes off. If you live in a city, find some dirt and stand on it. There’s a buzzword for this and it’s called “earthing”. The earth has been healing our deepest hurts for thousands of years before Instagram called it a thing.
After that, go find yourself a tree and introduce yourself. If you don’t happen to have a neighboring forest, there is always, always a lonely tree at a strip mall in middle America. You might be surprised at how the conversation unfolds.