I walk every day in the wildest place nearby and greet my plant-kin, the cottonwoods, the sagebrush, the cattails and chamisa and heath aster and slender wheatgrass. I listen to the kingfisher's rattling call and the magpies' chatter. I immerse myself in nature, practicing my terraphilia. Oh, and I don't even own a television, but I do read the news on my laptop. Blessings to you, dear Stephanie, and thank you for your heart and your writing!
Plant-kin is a word I will cherish from now on. Thank you. I hadn't known before this darkness how much nature feeds and keeps alive our hope and resilience. As always, dear Susan, I love and feel grateful for the stories you share. Big hugs.
I think you knew how necessary nature was, Stephanie, witness where you've lived, the hiking you've always done, and your love for forests. You just didn't need nature as acutely before this difficult time, and now you do. As we all do. People like you and I are fortunate to already have a connection. But lots of folks don't have the knowledge about how to access nature and how to draw on that community of lives for strength and grounding. Which is why I am teaching terraphilia and how to practice it, wherever we find ourselves. It's the gift we need now, and the earth and our kin need us too--that reciprocity is powerfully healing and restorative. Hugs back to you!
I am glad you have trees and a woods to walk in nearby. Your plant-kin not only breathe with you (they exhale the oxygen you inhale, and inhale the carbon dioxide you exhale in a lovely reciprocity), they also offer their lives and their wisdom, their presence and their company. I think that's pretty much love of the sort we all need these days!
Yes! It’s what I do that gets me through the day. Unashamedly, I would rather rake the leaves for my compost bin for 3 hours than vacuum for 15 minutes.
Pockets of grace: wild pink primroses on a rocky bank; the Pride of Barbados returning after winter's dormancy; the clover and henbit that the chickens always loved, only now the chickens are gone (both, elderly, died in October); the spill of a painted bunting's song. Yes. Pockets of grace to carry me through another day of his purposeful chaos. Thank you, Stephanie.
Stephanie, your words resonate deeply, capturing the weight of these times and the quiet resilience we summon each day. Your poem’s imagery of “storm-born guardians of the soul” is so powerful, reminding us to rise, even amidst exhaustion. The honesty in your reflections - soul rain, fleeting hope and finding grace in simple joys - offers both comfort and inspiration. Walking, laughter, savouring chocolate and holding hands become acts of healing and resistance. Your call to “take heart” and fight for justice and humanity is a beacon, reminding us that our collective light and love sustain us. Thank you so much for sharing your creativity, strength and grace. Together, we rise! 💜
Thank you so much for sharing something as precious as your soul. It helps to read this – so much. I live alone with too many of my own unhappy thoughts now.
What I think has started to affect my little dog. She is sharing my stress and I know now that both of us could spiral down.
I need to wake up and recite gratitude for this day.
I have allowed this toxic world to invade my being and reflect outward.
I must be brave for much more than myself, but for all living things of this world – humans, other animals, plants. Even the abiotic elements of this world. If we succumb to the toxic evil that surrounds us, then we become part of this toxic world.
I must feel the unwillingness to do that and not in anger, but what I’ve always done and that is, with love.
May your loving heart take nourishment from the "experience" of the natural world. I relate to what you share here, and just this morning I told myself to "get out of my head and into my senses." So for a short time I sat on my porch and drank in all the different shades of spring green, smelled the rain still lingering in the air from last night's showers and pet my dog. It helped. And that's the exercise -- we cannot succumb to the dark. We are not alone in this -- we have each other and in that there is strength. Big wags to your sweet dog and biggest of hugs to you. May we be the light we need.
Dearest Rea, keep hope alive. It dwells in the simplest and sometimes smallest of places. It dwells within us too and that is something that I sometime struggle to remind myself daily. May we be the peace and the light that we seek. We are in this together.
I have long believed that the trees hold our stories until we're ready to tell them. To that end, trees are not objects in our world, but living, breathing souls, willing to teach and inform us. Big hugs.
This: "History has unrolled beneath our feet, and we are walking it." I've never truly known anxiety until the unnamed one unleashed his storm of hatred and malice. What unsettles me most is the rise in hate, spreading like wildfire from every direction. Walking in the woods, noticing the beauty surrounding me, brings peace.
I get my greatest soothing from forest trails too. Since you and I have been connected, Virginia, I have always experienced you as a force for good. I walk beside you in that practice. Big hugs.
Walking, leaning against my ‘tree’, my hands in clay, crocheting stockings for neighborhood center, all helps me keep my center and belief in goodness.
Another beautiful story that fills this old heart -- to make things with our hands is a gift and as you say, keeps alive our belief in goodness. Thank you so much for this, Susan.
Dogs make life better for me too. May you continue to play and create. It's what I want for all of us. We are in this together. Biggest hugs, dear woman. You are in my heart.
You bless my soul this day, Stephanie. Thank you. Kindred and generous spirits do this for each other. And this is how we’ll collectively get through. You are helping me get through. Trees have been mentioned here; my reading of the Tao Te Ching this morning surfaced the image of the palm tree—those amazing beings who bend with the wind, sometimes to the ground in the midst of loud and large storms; but when the storms pass, they stand back up proudly for having weathered the storms and having set down even firmer roots (to withstand even greater storms should they come. And they’ll come.) 🙏🏼
Yes, Kert -- we do this for each other and I am so grateful. I love the story of the trees and setting down firmer roots. Biggest of hugs, my friend. Thank you.
All my life I have found solace in the written word, especially during dark days, reading provides a safe refuge, stimulation and inspiration for me. The beauty of words reminds me to look for the beauty in life, despite whatever is raging around me.
What a moment to get lost in; to fill your heart with; to sing about for the rest of the day -- and just outside your window. Thank you for a beautiful story. Biggest of hugs.
I walk every day in the wildest place nearby and greet my plant-kin, the cottonwoods, the sagebrush, the cattails and chamisa and heath aster and slender wheatgrass. I listen to the kingfisher's rattling call and the magpies' chatter. I immerse myself in nature, practicing my terraphilia. Oh, and I don't even own a television, but I do read the news on my laptop. Blessings to you, dear Stephanie, and thank you for your heart and your writing!
Plant-kin is a word I will cherish from now on. Thank you. I hadn't known before this darkness how much nature feeds and keeps alive our hope and resilience. As always, dear Susan, I love and feel grateful for the stories you share. Big hugs.
I think you knew how necessary nature was, Stephanie, witness where you've lived, the hiking you've always done, and your love for forests. You just didn't need nature as acutely before this difficult time, and now you do. As we all do. People like you and I are fortunate to already have a connection. But lots of folks don't have the knowledge about how to access nature and how to draw on that community of lives for strength and grounding. Which is why I am teaching terraphilia and how to practice it, wherever we find ourselves. It's the gift we need now, and the earth and our kin need us too--that reciprocity is powerfully healing and restorative. Hugs back to you!
True -- I never needed the wisdom of the woods as acutely as I do now. My favorite plant-kin are the trees. Thank you for this.
I am glad you have trees and a woods to walk in nearby. Your plant-kin not only breathe with you (they exhale the oxygen you inhale, and inhale the carbon dioxide you exhale in a lovely reciprocity), they also offer their lives and their wisdom, their presence and their company. I think that's pretty much love of the sort we all need these days!
Amen, cherished sister.
Thank the trees for the air I breathe and plant baby plant. Gets me through.
Yes, digging around in the earth, tending to plants with care and appreciation -- that's life affirming goodness.
Amen. The presence of trees have a way of putting so much in perspective. They are an embodiment of love. Thank you for sharing your story.
Yes! It’s what I do that gets me through the day. Unashamedly, I would rather rake the leaves for my compost bin for 3 hours than vacuum for 15 minutes.
LOL -- I couldn't agree more! (In trying to sell our house right now, I do way too much vacuuming, so I totally relate and thanks for the chuckle!)
I believe in the power of the American people who are rising up in so many ways, as you are!
Thank you, Kate. I believe in us too! Thank your for stating that.
Pockets of grace: wild pink primroses on a rocky bank; the Pride of Barbados returning after winter's dormancy; the clover and henbit that the chickens always loved, only now the chickens are gone (both, elderly, died in October); the spill of a painted bunting's song. Yes. Pockets of grace to carry me through another day of his purposeful chaos. Thank you, Stephanie.
This is the beauty we crave, a soothing wind that breaks the fever. Thank you for sharing your pockets of grace, Susan. Much appreciation.
Stephanie, your words resonate deeply, capturing the weight of these times and the quiet resilience we summon each day. Your poem’s imagery of “storm-born guardians of the soul” is so powerful, reminding us to rise, even amidst exhaustion. The honesty in your reflections - soul rain, fleeting hope and finding grace in simple joys - offers both comfort and inspiration. Walking, laughter, savouring chocolate and holding hands become acts of healing and resistance. Your call to “take heart” and fight for justice and humanity is a beacon, reminding us that our collective light and love sustain us. Thank you so much for sharing your creativity, strength and grace. Together, we rise! 💜
Spoken like a fellow poet, dear Deborah. Thank you. Together, we rise!
Thank you so much for sharing something as precious as your soul. It helps to read this – so much. I live alone with too many of my own unhappy thoughts now.
What I think has started to affect my little dog. She is sharing my stress and I know now that both of us could spiral down.
I need to wake up and recite gratitude for this day.
I have allowed this toxic world to invade my being and reflect outward.
I must be brave for much more than myself, but for all living things of this world – humans, other animals, plants. Even the abiotic elements of this world. If we succumb to the toxic evil that surrounds us, then we become part of this toxic world.
I must feel the unwillingness to do that and not in anger, but what I’ve always done and that is, with love.
May your loving heart take nourishment from the "experience" of the natural world. I relate to what you share here, and just this morning I told myself to "get out of my head and into my senses." So for a short time I sat on my porch and drank in all the different shades of spring green, smelled the rain still lingering in the air from last night's showers and pet my dog. It helped. And that's the exercise -- we cannot succumb to the dark. We are not alone in this -- we have each other and in that there is strength. Big wags to your sweet dog and biggest of hugs to you. May we be the light we need.
I fear the world is going insane. It is out of control. Sending peace love and light. 🙏
Dearest Rea, keep hope alive. It dwells in the simplest and sometimes smallest of places. It dwells within us too and that is something that I sometime struggle to remind myself daily. May we be the peace and the light that we seek. We are in this together.
Yes, we are. We can do it together. 🙏
I stand with you. Thank you for being here.
I cry when I see people taking a tree down. I can't read stories about flattening forests. I just can't. And thank you for the kind words.
I have long believed that the trees hold our stories until we're ready to tell them. To that end, trees are not objects in our world, but living, breathing souls, willing to teach and inform us. Big hugs.
This: "History has unrolled beneath our feet, and we are walking it." I've never truly known anxiety until the unnamed one unleashed his storm of hatred and malice. What unsettles me most is the rise in hate, spreading like wildfire from every direction. Walking in the woods, noticing the beauty surrounding me, brings peace.
I get my greatest soothing from forest trails too. Since you and I have been connected, Virginia, I have always experienced you as a force for good. I walk beside you in that practice. Big hugs.
Thank you
Thank you for being here, Jen.
Walking, leaning against my ‘tree’, my hands in clay, crocheting stockings for neighborhood center, all helps me keep my center and belief in goodness.
Another beautiful story that fills this old heart -- to make things with our hands is a gift and as you say, keeps alive our belief in goodness. Thank you so much for this, Susan.
Good morning Stephanie, another wonderful post throughout dreadful time
I am working on some creative projects, which is very fun and I am fortunate to have a dog who nudges me to get out and remind me to play.
Looking forward to seeing you soon
We’re in this together
🌹🔥💙
Dogs make life better for me too. May you continue to play and create. It's what I want for all of us. We are in this together. Biggest hugs, dear woman. You are in my heart.
You bless my soul this day, Stephanie. Thank you. Kindred and generous spirits do this for each other. And this is how we’ll collectively get through. You are helping me get through. Trees have been mentioned here; my reading of the Tao Te Ching this morning surfaced the image of the palm tree—those amazing beings who bend with the wind, sometimes to the ground in the midst of loud and large storms; but when the storms pass, they stand back up proudly for having weathered the storms and having set down even firmer roots (to withstand even greater storms should they come. And they’ll come.) 🙏🏼
Yes, Kert -- we do this for each other and I am so grateful. I love the story of the trees and setting down firmer roots. Biggest of hugs, my friend. Thank you.
Indeed, we must take care. Thank you for being here in this space, reminding us what we're fighting for, not just against.
Thank you for your kind words, Rebecca -- I stand with you as a force for good.
All my life I have found solace in the written word, especially during dark days, reading provides a safe refuge, stimulation and inspiration for me. The beauty of words reminds me to look for the beauty in life, despite whatever is raging around me.
Beautifully stated, Elly, and so relatable. Thank you. Big hugs.
I watched a hummingbird fly to a flowering bush in the yard and remembered that beauty and peacefulness are just outside my window.
What a moment to get lost in; to fill your heart with; to sing about for the rest of the day -- and just outside your window. Thank you for a beautiful story. Biggest of hugs.