Earth Loves You...

Can we conceive of this possibility? What if we were to live as if it were so?

“Knowing that you love the earth changes you, activates you to defend and protect and celebrate. But when you feel that the earth loves you in return, that feeling transforms the relationship from a one-way street into a sacred bond.”¹ -Robin Wall Kimmerer

We watch as she dawns her shades-of-blue jacket, tucks her long black hair under an equally colorful helmet, and hoists her gleaming red kayak off the top of her vehicle. I am impressed with the determination with which the young woman approaches the roiling river that, even though I am merely a spectator, takes my breath away. Caught within high cliffs and giant boulders, the river rushing down from the towering Andes is all boiling rapids, powerful currents, and white foam. I think, “This as a violent river,” but something feels wrong about that description. The young woman now being propelled through the heart of this rock-strewn valley, her kayak often dipping entirely out of sight, sees river in an entirely different way. Who are we - my husband and I witnessing her experience through the lens of a televised documentary - to define this river in the face of Argentinians who are her kin?

“From the time I was little, the mountains called to me… raw energy, alive, pristine. I’m so lucky nature allows me to bond… I can’t imagine my life without rivers….

Navigating a vein of Earth…. In the kayak, I am exceeding my limits.

The river is alive. I believe that certain elements choose people. The river chose me.

I nearly died once. River takes care of me. The river loves me.”²

This: The river loves me.

I consider this idea of “elements” choosing people to love. Have I ever been chosen?

I’ve never been asked, I’ve never asked, “Who in this amazing living world loves you?”

***

A subsequent evening, and we are watching another episode of Magical Andes. We’ve headed further north to Bolivia where three women are climbing a mountain, wearing what I understand to be clothing of their Indigenous heritage. Skirts swinging as they walk, the small team has crossed from green valleys to rocky mountain sides with winding trails and are now on a steep upward climb through the snow. It’s unclear how they know the way for I can discern no path. Still they walk steadily forward, roped together for safety, climbing the mountain until we see them standing at what must feel like the top of the world.

One of the women explains, “Before I climbed my first mountain, I was told, ‘You won’t make it to the top. Climbing mountains is just for men.’ I was wearing my skirt. When I got to the top, I felt so strong. The mountains welcome me. The mountain loves me.”

****

Another evening, we meet two people whose job is to climb the Ecuadoran volcano, Cotopaxi, to monitor its activity by measuring the ash collected in specially designed funnels. I am mystified how they can possibly find their way to the collection areas. The side of the volcano is thick with huge boulders they must navigate, and there is no clear trail. Once the duo arrives, they must climb atop huge stones to complete the measurements. What risks are ever-present on this arid, ashy, cinder-covered slope so far from any towns or even homes? Yet, here again, this climber of volcanic slopes speaks not of hardship, but of love: “I believe the volcano loves us.”

I am blown away by the love these individuals experience from mountains, rivers, and volcanoes. Even imagining such a relationship has little traction in the dominant worldview in which I live my days. Yet, I am reminded of a story told by Robin Wall Kimmerer in Braiding Sweetgrass.

In a graduate writing workshop on relationship to the land, students were enthusiastic about their relationships to and respect for nature. “They professed without reservation that they loved the earth.” She asked them, “Do you think that the earth loves you back?” Discomfort was apparent. No one ventured a reply. Kimmerer continued:

“So I made it hypothetical and asked, ‘What do you suppose would happen if people believed this crazy notion that the earth loved them back?’ The floodgates opened. They all wanted to talk at once….

“One student summed it up: ‘You wouldn’t harm what gives you love.’

“Knowing that you love the earth changes you, activates you to defend and protect and celebrate. But when you feel that the earth loves you in return, that feeling transforms the relationship from a one-way street into a sacred bond.”

I led book groups to discuss Braiding Sweetgrass and taught a course for Shepherd University’s Lifelong Learning on the book. I created a guide with reflection questions for each chapter. I found among the questions this one that Kimmerer had asked her students: “What do you suppose would happen if people believed this crazy notion that the earth loved them back?”

The question of Earth loving me, brought first by a wise Indigenous woman of Turtle Island, has come back again, raised to my consciousness by Indigenous women of the Andes. In his striking poem, “Sometimes,” David Whyte writes of such questions as

…questions
that can make
or unmake
a life,
questions
that have patiently
waited for you,
questions
that have no right
to go away.³

I feel in my bones this is such a question, waiting for me, for us. A question that will not be denied.

I recently received a gift for the coming year by way of the Keystone Communities Project of the Global Ecovillage Network: an invitation to participate in a Twelve Nights Journey Between the Years. Noting that the twelve nights or holy nights are an old custom in European Indigenous and pagan cultures, the invitation calls for a time of “reflection, cleansing, and preparing for the new year.” This is a threshold time when the veils are said to be thinner between us and the invisible or spirit world. With the question of who loves me still echoing in my heart, I find this guidance for December 27:

“Principle: Looking at our boundaries, assessing and adjusting them.

“In the third of the twelve nights, we become conscious of all the relationships we are engaged in and open up to embrace them as richness in our lives. We are not just ourselves, we are also our ancestors, our environment, and so much more. We open up to receive their messages. It’s a time to open up our hearts and sense deeper, ‘What makes me alive and joyful?’”

What makes me alive and joyful? Who loves me?

Yes, it’s time to look at the false boundaries we have created between “self” and “other.” To re-member the ancient wisdom of mountains and rivers, wind and trees who love the people. To see with the eyes of the heart so that we might receive the love so generously offered.

What do you suppose would happen if people believed this crazy notion that the earth loved them back? What do you think? Are you willing?

*****

A Practice

Do you wonder where to begin? Here is a possible practice that has been stirring in me:

- Find a place to sit in silence, out of doors in a quiet space if possible. Breathe deeply, centering yourself, fully present to the moment. Allow your attention to be drawn to your spiritual heart, what contemplatives might call mind-in-heart. When your attention drifts away, gently return to listening and seeing with the eyes of the heart.

- Allow a memory to arise of a time when you felt deeply connected to the living world. Tune in to your body. Notice your feelings. Perhaps you experienced peace, belonging, liveliness, exhilaration, wonder, or love. Relish and absorb those feelings. Who is with you in this time, e.g. river, landscape, trees, mountains? What are your feelings toward this animate being? Do you sense how you might be seen or held by them?

- You might allow other memories to arise of another time with these beings. What else have you experienced? Hold gently all your noticing; don’t try to make anything happen.

- For what are you grateful? Consider how you might express your gratitude for the beings that have gifted you, whether or not you name the gift as love.

- If you have the opportunity to be physically present to and with these beings, make time to do so as frequently as possible. Come with open-hearted presence and gentle curiosity but without expectations.

****

Of course, you might find your way to remembering who loves you through journal writing, drawing or sketching, dancing, or some other way of opening your heart to recover what it already knows. Tip: Love is more likely to reveal herself to a gentle open heart than to an insistent thinking mind. (Trust me, I’ve tried the latter. :-) )

*****

It would be terrific if you’d share your own practices in the comments so that we can learn from you. We’d be honored if you’d reveal to us who loves you. Or tell us of your frustrations and why you think this doesn’t work for you. Such heart and soul work is best done with the support of community. Let’s be here for each other.

*****

An Upcoming Weekend Retreat:

Brigid of the Sacred Oak: Wisdom of the Divine Feminine for Our Time

January 30-Feb 1, 2026
Time: Friday 3pm to Sunday 2pm
Location: Wellspring Retreat Center, Germantown, MD
Leaders: Leah Rampy, Lindsay McLaughlin, Lisa Bardack, and Katy Gaughan

Join us for this women’s retreat as we immerse ourselves deep into the roots of the Sacred Feminine with stories of Brigid and women who exemplify her wisdom and in whose lineage we stand.

Register

*****

In Other News:

If you’re interested in knowing more about Discovering the Spiritual Wisdom of Trees that I co-authored with Beth Norcross, this review by Marilyn Matevia in Englewood Review gives a chapter by chapter look. It’s such fun to see where your book goes without you! Here’s the link to the full text.

*****

I am so grateful for the rich conversation with Victoria Loorz on her podcast The Holy Wild! We discussed topics from my book Earth & Soul, the importance of ecospirituality and edge-walking, and how we can build kinship in reciprocity with the living world.

Victoria is the author of Church of the Wild and wrote a lovely review for the book I co-authored with Beth Norcross, Discovering the Spiritual Wisdom of Trees.

You can join our conversation on Apple podcasts or here.

*****

A Note to You:

Last, but definitely not least, a heartfelt thank you to new subscribers and a very special tip-of-the-hat to those who have been with me throughout this year. To those who take time to click the “heart" to show that someone is listening and to you who write comments that expand and encourage, you are a beacon of light. Thank you.

If you are a paid subscriber, please know how very grateful I am to you. And if you are enjoying this for free, please feel no pressure to pay; I consider being together the true gift.

If you appreciate Reweaving Earth & Soul, please invite others to subscribe.

Times are hard; we all need community more than every. Thank you for being here.

1. Robin Wall Kimmerer. Braiding Sweetgrass, pp. 124-125.

2. Magical Andes, Documentary, 2021. Netflix.

3. David Whyte, Sometimes, Everything Is Waiting for You.