This raised some important questions for me just now. What has saved my life? And what if the different ways we've each saved our lives could help others save their own? We need all the tools we can, even on a good day, and right now, many of us would say there have been a lot of hard days. We need more tools than we've ever needed before.
Another thing I've been thinking: I've lived in a large urban/suburban area for between twenty-five and thirty years. Even with nature trails and parks built for the purpose of being outside, I know I've spent a great deal less time outside than I might have once upon a time. Rediscovering nature would be very good for me, and it's helpful for me to get that reminder on a regular basis. I know I feel a difference when I'm in parts of the country where people are outside more often. It's not as much a part of the culture where I live, but there's no reason why it couldn't be.
Christina, Those are great questions, and ones that I may use in another newsletter if you don't mind me borrowing them (with attribution, of course). What tools have we learned in times of crisis that would be useful for us now, and that we could share with others? In fact, maybe this could be an ongoing tool swap. (I do love tools, real and figurative!)
Isn't it interesting, too, how much the culture of a place where we live shapes our daily routines, whether or not we're conscious of it? I think that making time outside part of our daily lives isn't hard. We don't have to go anywhere--outside is just out our door. And yet, for so many, it's not something we value. It's what we rush through on the way to the car or bus or train. Getting outside takes us out of our sometimes unhealthy preoccupation with our own thoughts, our own insides, as it were, and gives us a wider perspective on life in general. That's part of what makes Vitamin N--time in nature--so healthy. It gets us out of us and into a world where we are not the focus and our problems and anxieties and concerns are not so huge and overwhelming. So yes, as you say, there's no reason why rediscovering nature couldn't be part of the culture where you live. And there are compelling reasons why that would be very healthy. Go for it!
Thank you, Sue! I am honored and delighted. May you find them inspiring and fascinating and above all, useful. (Those two memoirs are my 12th and 13th books. I've been processing the world through writing for a long time!) Blessings.
I have a very small spot of this beautiful earth that I can tend to, and as my energy rises, I do it more and more. What I’ve noticed is, I now pay attention to the tiniest little things. I also noticed the sunrise rises in sunset, but it’s the amazement within my tiny space that is my new adventure!
Kathryn, I am delighted to hear that you are able to get outside and tend your small patch of the planet. To nurture and be nurtured. What good news! And yes, the tiniest observations can bring us just as much wonder and amazement as the wildest of wildernesses or grandest of mountain ranges. William Blake got that when he wrote at the beginning of "Auguries of Innocence":
Although Rheumatoid Arthritis is not life threatening, when I was diagnosed with it in the early 80's, there were no medications for it. So like you, Susan, I had to research solutions, mostly dietary and lifestyle alterations to bring down the edema and pain. I was living on the upper west side of Manhattan at the time, and I was very poor. Central Park and Riverside Park were the closest I could get to Terraphilia! But there were the birds, and my English Cocker loved both parks, and so I did the best I could. Those walks in the parks helped to save my sanity. In the climate in which we are living today, our connection with Mother Earth is sustaining. If only we can sustain Her!
My mom was also diagnosed with RA in the early 80s, and I can attest that it is indeed life-threatening in its worst forms. She tried every experimental drug that came along and like you, made lifestyle and dietary alterations to help manage the pain and joint degradation, but it still ate her bones. I'm glad yours has not been so virulent, and that back when you were diagnosed and living on the Upper West Side and poor, you had your Cocker to get you out on walks to Central Park and Riverside Park. Thank heavens for those doses of Vitamin N you got! The earth will sustain herself long after humans are gone; the question is whether we will learn enough to stay on this planet. Hugs to you!
Susan, your words have deeply moved me. The profound love you hold for Mother Earth and Her sacred community shines as a bright beacon of resilience and hope. To endure such immense loss, the passing of both your beloved husband and dear mother in the same year, is beyond comprehension, yet somehow you found strength and solace in your bond with nature. That speaks volumes to the depth of your spirit.
Your practice of terraphilia is a beautiful testament to the healing power of connection, not just to the land, but to the vast, wild community that grounds us in life’s most challenging moments. Thank you so much for sharing your journey and reminding us of the strength and clarity we, too, can find in nurturing our bond with Mother Earth. Your story will stay with me for a long time. Sending much love, light and hope.
Deborah, Thank you for your eloquence and your support. If my experience helps us all understand the urgency and importance of cultivating our terraphilia and strengthening our bonds, I am grateful. The hard days and the grueling journeys become richer the more they are useful. May your bond with this earth give you much grace and light, strength and hope. Blessings!
Thanks for this Susan! It gives me hope in this insane period.
I will have to say that the natural world saved me as well. As I've written before I well remember trying to deal with what seemed to be impossible situations and retreating into nature. Sometimes it took the form of long hikes into the desert, sometimes as an observer under a starry sky, amazed at the beauty and complexity of the universe, sometimes as a gardner, photographer, scientist or artist, sometimes reclining on the limb of a live oak, or even on desert sand, but it was always helpful.
David, Your words remind me that we humans are blessed to have the company of nature, even something as small as a clump of moss in a city sidewalk, to remind us of the community of lives our own is enmeshed in, and of the world beyond our human drama and chaos. Thank heavens for the salvation of nature when we are dealing with those situations and experiences that seem far too big and heavy to handle! I am glad you instinctively turned to your own terraphilia in the times when you needed that calm and connection, strength and wisdom. May they sustain you now as well.
Susan, what a testament to your resilience and the power created when you interact with Nature. She is always waiting with arms wide to heal, guide and comfort.
We are in the midst of pollen season with all its glory. Our tea olive tree is a huge froth of white blooms, alive with a thousand bees.
I've been under the weather this month and hope soon to be out grubbing in the gardens soil. My refuge from the world's insanity.
I look forward to you future posts of tools and how we might share with one another.
Kathleen, I am so sorry that you've been under the weather. I think the stress has gotten to many of us, and I hope you feel better soon. Getting your hands in the soil will be healing.
Thank you for that great mental image of your tea-olive tree with its froth of blossoms humming with legions of bees. That's a soothing image all on its own.
And how fortunate, Linda. I am glad you have both nature and books to help you live, and live well, even in the most difficult of times. May they always be your solace and nurture!
So grateful for your writings and inspiration, Susan. Being outside, walking on trails, being in the woods or by a river --this is my church. Before you, I'd never heard the word terraphilia. But now I am keeping its meaning close by. Biggest of hugs.
Dear Stephanie, I know that you have lived through so much hard stuff in the past year, and I hope lighter times are coming for you. In the meantime, I am glad you have nature for your spiritual surcease and terraphilia to remind you of that connection. Hugs back to you!
Hello Susan. A young deer is outside the window grazing in the cropped perennial flower garden that is growing by the day. The Catalina mountains rise to the north, and my husband and I are blessed to live in a rental in an area with abundant wildlife and birds. Terraphilia is a new word for me (thank you!) and it describes what has saved my life and keeps me calm when chaos roars and every day in-between...nature and writing. You were recommended as "must reading" here on Substack by our mutual friend Ashley S. and her husband. I am grateful for the intimacy of your writing, the stories you share, the innate sustenance of the word "terraphilia." Many thanks for your presence here.
Nancy, Welcome! I'm so delighted that Ashley and M recommended my stack to you. Enjoy Tucson, even in this dust-dry spring, and the Sonoran Desert. My great-granddad and great-grandmother (who have a cameo in one of Ashley's books!) moved to Tucson in 1903, he to study the desert plants and she to paint the desert. My parents lived in the Fort Lowell neighborhood for 26 years. So I have roots there. May your terraphilia flourish with the deer, the garden, and the amazing diversity of lives adapted to that most tropical of the North American deserts. I'm so glad you're here! Blessings.
And blessing back, Susan…you live in two of my favorite places, the Santa Fe area and Colorado…I grew up in the mountains above Boulder. I just ordered your “Bless the Birds,” and am looking forward to its arrival.
Thank you for this beautifully written post Susan - bringing a timely reminder of the hope that nature gives us in challenging times. I call mother nature my healing balm and she has been through past loss, helping me with the grieving process, as well as showing me light in dark moments of my life and bringing me back to a mindful, centred place.
Lin, I am glad that you've felt the embrace of nature and this earth in your hardest times, and that you've been open to that connection and healing. When we live with our hearts open, we so often find what we need. May that continue to be true! And BTW, I love the focus of your stack and your writing! Blessings.
Thank you for this writing that opens to us a strength straight from the earth and all she nurtures (nature), that we can access through your beautifully presented Terraphilia. Yes💚
The true blessing of terraphilia, I think, Jenny, is that we are reminded not just that we have an in-born connection with this living planet, but that we are part of the whole, and the relationship is a reciprocal one. As Robin Wall Kimmerer says so compellingly, "We must give back for what we take." That's where the nurturing comes from. Many blessings to you!
The wrecking ball approach dooms us to suffering and destruction. Our interconnection with the natural world offers such a wise path forward. Thank you, Susan, for sharing how terraphilia can help us on a personal and societal level!
Well, said, Lori. Wanton wrecking does doom us to suffering and destruction, and, I think, trauma that may take generations to heal. We can and will return light and compassion to our country, and it will take all of us, each working in our own way, to get there. Practicing our terraphilia can support and inspire us on that journey. Blessings!
I am 80 and can't list the so very many times practice has "saved my life." Meditation can help anywhere, any time. I was feeling so lonely when I was in Guatemala alone and had somehow developed amoebic dysentery. I sat in the little apartment I shared with a woman from Nicaragua and meditated to my favorite space. By the time I finished I was ready to face the world again.
Karen, I am so glad that you had meditation to turn to when you had amoebic dysentery in Guatemala, and that you had the wits to use it! I think that meditation, like tending our terraphilia, takes us outside our skin boundary, and out of our misery or "stuck-ness" or whatever we are caught in, and reconnects us to the immense community of life on this planet. That taking us out of our own tiny lives and into the whole community is what is so healing and empowering about both practices, I think. Blessings to you!
This raised some important questions for me just now. What has saved my life? And what if the different ways we've each saved our lives could help others save their own? We need all the tools we can, even on a good day, and right now, many of us would say there have been a lot of hard days. We need more tools than we've ever needed before.
Another thing I've been thinking: I've lived in a large urban/suburban area for between twenty-five and thirty years. Even with nature trails and parks built for the purpose of being outside, I know I've spent a great deal less time outside than I might have once upon a time. Rediscovering nature would be very good for me, and it's helpful for me to get that reminder on a regular basis. I know I feel a difference when I'm in parts of the country where people are outside more often. It's not as much a part of the culture where I live, but there's no reason why it couldn't be.
Christina, Those are great questions, and ones that I may use in another newsletter if you don't mind me borrowing them (with attribution, of course). What tools have we learned in times of crisis that would be useful for us now, and that we could share with others? In fact, maybe this could be an ongoing tool swap. (I do love tools, real and figurative!)
Isn't it interesting, too, how much the culture of a place where we live shapes our daily routines, whether or not we're conscious of it? I think that making time outside part of our daily lives isn't hard. We don't have to go anywhere--outside is just out our door. And yet, for so many, it's not something we value. It's what we rush through on the way to the car or bus or train. Getting outside takes us out of our sometimes unhealthy preoccupation with our own thoughts, our own insides, as it were, and gives us a wider perspective on life in general. That's part of what makes Vitamin N--time in nature--so healthy. It gets us out of us and into a world where we are not the focus and our problems and anxieties and concerns are not so huge and overwhelming. So yes, as you say, there's no reason why rediscovering nature couldn't be part of the culture where you live. And there are compelling reasons why that would be very healthy. Go for it!
Sure, you are welcome to use the questions! And I like the idea of a tool swap.
I love this post, and l've put your books on my to-read list.
Thank you, Sue! I am honored and delighted. May you find them inspiring and fascinating and above all, useful. (Those two memoirs are my 12th and 13th books. I've been processing the world through writing for a long time!) Blessings.
Thanks, Terraphilia!
Life-enhancing, life-saving.
Way beyond healing.
Oh yes! Lovely, Marisol, and thank you so much for the gift of your poetry. May your day bring you joys.
I have a very small spot of this beautiful earth that I can tend to, and as my energy rises, I do it more and more. What I’ve noticed is, I now pay attention to the tiniest little things. I also noticed the sunrise rises in sunset, but it’s the amazement within my tiny space that is my new adventure!
Kathryn, I am delighted to hear that you are able to get outside and tend your small patch of the planet. To nurture and be nurtured. What good news! And yes, the tiniest observations can bring us just as much wonder and amazement as the wildest of wildernesses or grandest of mountain ranges. William Blake got that when he wrote at the beginning of "Auguries of Innocence":
"To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour."
Yes!
Although Rheumatoid Arthritis is not life threatening, when I was diagnosed with it in the early 80's, there were no medications for it. So like you, Susan, I had to research solutions, mostly dietary and lifestyle alterations to bring down the edema and pain. I was living on the upper west side of Manhattan at the time, and I was very poor. Central Park and Riverside Park were the closest I could get to Terraphilia! But there were the birds, and my English Cocker loved both parks, and so I did the best I could. Those walks in the parks helped to save my sanity. In the climate in which we are living today, our connection with Mother Earth is sustaining. If only we can sustain Her!
My mom was also diagnosed with RA in the early 80s, and I can attest that it is indeed life-threatening in its worst forms. She tried every experimental drug that came along and like you, made lifestyle and dietary alterations to help manage the pain and joint degradation, but it still ate her bones. I'm glad yours has not been so virulent, and that back when you were diagnosed and living on the Upper West Side and poor, you had your Cocker to get you out on walks to Central Park and Riverside Park. Thank heavens for those doses of Vitamin N you got! The earth will sustain herself long after humans are gone; the question is whether we will learn enough to stay on this planet. Hugs to you!
And big hugs back to you, Susan!
Susan, your words have deeply moved me. The profound love you hold for Mother Earth and Her sacred community shines as a bright beacon of resilience and hope. To endure such immense loss, the passing of both your beloved husband and dear mother in the same year, is beyond comprehension, yet somehow you found strength and solace in your bond with nature. That speaks volumes to the depth of your spirit.
Your practice of terraphilia is a beautiful testament to the healing power of connection, not just to the land, but to the vast, wild community that grounds us in life’s most challenging moments. Thank you so much for sharing your journey and reminding us of the strength and clarity we, too, can find in nurturing our bond with Mother Earth. Your story will stay with me for a long time. Sending much love, light and hope.
Deborah, Thank you for your eloquence and your support. If my experience helps us all understand the urgency and importance of cultivating our terraphilia and strengthening our bonds, I am grateful. The hard days and the grueling journeys become richer the more they are useful. May your bond with this earth give you much grace and light, strength and hope. Blessings!
Thanks for this Susan! It gives me hope in this insane period.
I will have to say that the natural world saved me as well. As I've written before I well remember trying to deal with what seemed to be impossible situations and retreating into nature. Sometimes it took the form of long hikes into the desert, sometimes as an observer under a starry sky, amazed at the beauty and complexity of the universe, sometimes as a gardner, photographer, scientist or artist, sometimes reclining on the limb of a live oak, or even on desert sand, but it was always helpful.
May you always live in beauty.
David, Your words remind me that we humans are blessed to have the company of nature, even something as small as a clump of moss in a city sidewalk, to remind us of the community of lives our own is enmeshed in, and of the world beyond our human drama and chaos. Thank heavens for the salvation of nature when we are dealing with those situations and experiences that seem far too big and heavy to handle! I am glad you instinctively turned to your own terraphilia in the times when you needed that calm and connection, strength and wisdom. May they sustain you now as well.
Susan, what a testament to your resilience and the power created when you interact with Nature. She is always waiting with arms wide to heal, guide and comfort.
We are in the midst of pollen season with all its glory. Our tea olive tree is a huge froth of white blooms, alive with a thousand bees.
I've been under the weather this month and hope soon to be out grubbing in the gardens soil. My refuge from the world's insanity.
I look forward to you future posts of tools and how we might share with one another.
Blessings, my friend
Kathleen
Kathleen, I am so sorry that you've been under the weather. I think the stress has gotten to many of us, and I hope you feel better soon. Getting your hands in the soil will be healing.
Thank you for that great mental image of your tea-olive tree with its froth of blossoms humming with legions of bees. That's a soothing image all on its own.
Blessings and a healing hug back to you!
I believe long walks in nature and books have saved me and continue to do so.
And how fortunate, Linda. I am glad you have both nature and books to help you live, and live well, even in the most difficult of times. May they always be your solace and nurture!
So grateful for your writings and inspiration, Susan. Being outside, walking on trails, being in the woods or by a river --this is my church. Before you, I'd never heard the word terraphilia. But now I am keeping its meaning close by. Biggest of hugs.
Dear Stephanie, I know that you have lived through so much hard stuff in the past year, and I hope lighter times are coming for you. In the meantime, I am glad you have nature for your spiritual surcease and terraphilia to remind you of that connection. Hugs back to you!
Hello Susan. A young deer is outside the window grazing in the cropped perennial flower garden that is growing by the day. The Catalina mountains rise to the north, and my husband and I are blessed to live in a rental in an area with abundant wildlife and birds. Terraphilia is a new word for me (thank you!) and it describes what has saved my life and keeps me calm when chaos roars and every day in-between...nature and writing. You were recommended as "must reading" here on Substack by our mutual friend Ashley S. and her husband. I am grateful for the intimacy of your writing, the stories you share, the innate sustenance of the word "terraphilia." Many thanks for your presence here.
Nancy, Welcome! I'm so delighted that Ashley and M recommended my stack to you. Enjoy Tucson, even in this dust-dry spring, and the Sonoran Desert. My great-granddad and great-grandmother (who have a cameo in one of Ashley's books!) moved to Tucson in 1903, he to study the desert plants and she to paint the desert. My parents lived in the Fort Lowell neighborhood for 26 years. So I have roots there. May your terraphilia flourish with the deer, the garden, and the amazing diversity of lives adapted to that most tropical of the North American deserts. I'm so glad you're here! Blessings.
And blessing back, Susan…you live in two of my favorite places, the Santa Fe area and Colorado…I grew up in the mountains above Boulder. I just ordered your “Bless the Birds,” and am looking forward to its arrival.
Susan, I have long appreciated your wisdom and the gentle-yet-strong way you espresso it. Thank You.
Maryjo, It's a treat to "hear" your voice here. Thank you for the compliment and for participating in this community! Blessings.
Thank you for this beautifully written post Susan - bringing a timely reminder of the hope that nature gives us in challenging times. I call mother nature my healing balm and she has been through past loss, helping me with the grieving process, as well as showing me light in dark moments of my life and bringing me back to a mindful, centred place.
Lin, I am glad that you've felt the embrace of nature and this earth in your hardest times, and that you've been open to that connection and healing. When we live with our hearts open, we so often find what we need. May that continue to be true! And BTW, I love the focus of your stack and your writing! Blessings.
Thank you for this writing that opens to us a strength straight from the earth and all she nurtures (nature), that we can access through your beautifully presented Terraphilia. Yes💚
The true blessing of terraphilia, I think, Jenny, is that we are reminded not just that we have an in-born connection with this living planet, but that we are part of the whole, and the relationship is a reciprocal one. As Robin Wall Kimmerer says so compellingly, "We must give back for what we take." That's where the nurturing comes from. Many blessings to you!
The wrecking ball approach dooms us to suffering and destruction. Our interconnection with the natural world offers such a wise path forward. Thank you, Susan, for sharing how terraphilia can help us on a personal and societal level!
Well, said, Lori. Wanton wrecking does doom us to suffering and destruction, and, I think, trauma that may take generations to heal. We can and will return light and compassion to our country, and it will take all of us, each working in our own way, to get there. Practicing our terraphilia can support and inspire us on that journey. Blessings!
I am 80 and can't list the so very many times practice has "saved my life." Meditation can help anywhere, any time. I was feeling so lonely when I was in Guatemala alone and had somehow developed amoebic dysentery. I sat in the little apartment I shared with a woman from Nicaragua and meditated to my favorite space. By the time I finished I was ready to face the world again.
Karen, I am so glad that you had meditation to turn to when you had amoebic dysentery in Guatemala, and that you had the wits to use it! I think that meditation, like tending our terraphilia, takes us outside our skin boundary, and out of our misery or "stuck-ness" or whatever we are caught in, and reconnects us to the immense community of life on this planet. That taking us out of our own tiny lives and into the whole community is what is so healing and empowering about both practices, I think. Blessings to you!