I admit that I read this article with one eyebrow arched, ready to mock it wherever possible. But there are parts of it I found genuinely wise, so either its very well written or I’m getting soft in my old age.
Animal Wisdom for Feeling at Home in Your Earthly Body
The fact that humans are animals is not a point rewilding facilitator Vanessa Chakour wants to be swept under the socio-cultural rug. In fact, exploring our inner and outer landscapes from the vantage of our interconnectedness with the web of life leads to pleasure, love, wonder, healing, and connection. In illustrating the wild tapestry that binds us to all we call primal, Chakour shows what it takes for humans to leave the enclosures within our minds, rehabilitate our bond with nature, and finally return our hearts to their true home: Earth.
Stories are the architects of our human world, shaping how we perceive and interact with everything around us. As a child, foxes, birds, butterflies, bats, and countless other creatures populated my storybooks. I devoured books like Charlotte’s Web, where animals were intelligent, complex beings with rich emotional lives. But as I grew older, a painful dissonance grew between my reality and the “civilized” world where more-than-human animals were seen as intellectually and spiritually inferior and, in some cases, devoid of emotion. For far too long, dominant narratives have alienated us from the natural world.
Well you won’t ever catch me disagreeing that stories are important. They saved beavers in Martinez. And the story of Martinez saving beavers inspired countless other stories around the globe. Telling stories is powerful.
By immersing ourselves in the natural world and understanding the unique roles of each species, we can forge a mutually beneficial relationship with our planet. Beavers offer an inspiring example: One of the few animals, like humans, that modify their habitat to be more comfortable. Beavers build homes to protect themselves and, as they build, they create and heal ecosystems.
Yes they do. And they do it without thinking about it. Beavers would neither read or write a book about creating and sustaining ecosystems that other animals depend on. They just do it. Every day and with their last breath.
While our current approach to conservation often treats nature as an entity needing protection from us, Indigenous cultures have long demonstrated the power of reciprocal stewardship, actively supporting the health and resilience of their ecosystems. This is evident in the fact that Indigenous people, who today live on less than 5 percent of global land and still deal with unconscionable injustices, protect a staggering 80 percent of the world’s biodiversity. Stewardship isn’t about “taming” nature but rather working in collaboration with nature’s incredible regenerative powers.
While land may legally belong to someone, ecosystems can never truly be owned. In practice, living landscapes belong to everyone and to no one. It isn’t necessary to buy land to steward land. In New York City parks, and many city parks around the world, people can volunteer to learn how to help forest and wetland restoration, plant and prune street trees, propagate native seeds, and monitor local wildlife. Land is more than a resource to be exploited or scenery to be maintained. The living earth is a complex ecosystem that sustains us all.
I like the idea that we can all be stewards. And that the ecosystems around us can never truly be owned. I think about the truly resilient morning glory vine that is part of the block on my built in the 1800’s home. It was obviously planted once by a dreamy resident who first settled in Martinez when it was mostly soil. It has stunning blue flowers that grow to the sun and over the years it has dominated the block or been stripped out or climbed willfully over walls and stripped paint from doorways. It has been ripped away so that lawns or tanbark could be laid in orderly fashion. And sometimes it has entirely disappeared from site and I miss it fondly.
Only to show up twining around a rosebush or snagging a foothold on a picket fence. Never allowing itself to be forgotten. We just live here for a while. It reminds me. Things like morning glories and beavers have a way of showing up uninvited. And we can learn from them and make our lives more beautiful.
