This was such a beautiful reflection that made my heart go back to hikes through the arid landscapes of Colorado. I now live in Bogotá, and while this city of 13 million is nestled in a valley surrounded by mountains, it's hard to get to them often. Group hiking days and walks in parks are some of my only time to escape the concrete jungle. However, my apartment has a stunning view overlooking the city under the wide open sky. I connect with nature when I do yoga in my living room at sunset, and the pinks and oranges spill across the sky, over my neighborhood's buildings, and through the window. It also makes me feel part of the community around me, even though most may be strangers. I do think this sense of connectedness energizes my writing too.
Also, I find it so fascinating that nearly every author you've interviewed in this series has answered the first question in the same way - "Both." We writers are a unique breed aren't we? Both burying our noses in books and running around outside - and both bringing us in touch with different worlds.
Thanks for chiming in, Sarah! I really loved the imagery of belonging in the city and almost "ushering in" nature to where you're living now. I want to think more thoughtfully about how to do this in my life as it's unfolding back in a suburb of Dallas.
Also, what a neat reflection on the authors answering "both" in the first question! I think it reflects an agility of the writer's way of moving through the world. :)
Your description of Bogotá and the view from your apartment is gorgeous, Sarah! Thank you for bringing your view and your sense of connectedness to this space too. May your memories of Colorado hikes and your experiences in Bogotá continue to inform your writing and enrich your days.
This was wonderful. Thank you. <3 I was just listening for the umpteenth time yesterday to Krista Tippett's wonderful, extended interview with Mary Oliver on the On Being podcast. If there's a patron saint of something like terraphilia, it's got to be Mary. Like many writers, she constantly walked about with a small notebook, but I'm liking this idea of using voice recording apps. There definitely is a way that the mind flows and the voice is different, and I need to start capturing that consistently. Thank you for the prod, Susan.
Asha, Thank you! I remember hearing that interview with Mary Oliver, but I haven't listened to it in years. I'll go back and find it and listen again. I used to carry a notebook as a field botanist, but I don't write fast enough to keep up with my feverish brain (hah!), so the voice memo on my phone works better. Also, I can "write" and pace that way, and that somehow helps me focus.
Amanda, I am so honored to be part of your Cave of the Heart series! Thank you for including me, and for those inspiring questions. I learned more about myself and how I walk this world in answering them.
Thank you Amanda and Susan ❤️ I am so enjoying the sense of peeking into different artistic lives and people, and finding community there. I’ve loved outside, often without feeling permission to explore that (not being Outdoorsy whatever that means... perhaps mostly not having access to wilderness and not being fond of camping with people who mock beginners rather than help them). It wasn’t until my 30s that I understood my own biophilia. In the pandemic the weeds and street trees near my inner city apartment would move me to tears of gratitude, let alone birds and sky.
Michelle, Thank you! I am so sorry that your experiences of being outside and camping included people who were not welcoming and actually mocked you as a beginner. That sucks. I'm glad you found your own path to discovering your biophilia. For me, terraphilia (which I define as our innate love of the earth herself and all living beings) doesn't require wilderness or big wild spaces; it's about loving what we have nearby. All of the little wild ones who have figured out how inhabit our built environments are just as precious as those photogenic redwoods and grizzly bears, as my dad used to say, the "charismatic wildlife and plants." Give me the mosses and lichens growing on building stones, the purslane poking out of the sidewalk cracks (which is, BTW, quite edible), the wild cherry trees slipping toward the sky between buildings, and the rock doves (and the peregrine falcons that hunt them from building ledges). May your nearby wild always sustain and uplift you!
Maureen, I just wrote a haiku that includes raven voices, so your words about the gull voices in your city environment resonate with me. I think that hearing other species is a special joy when we are in the midst of the built environment. As the American writer and climate activist Terry Tempest Williams said yesterday in a Zoom conversation, "They are calling us." I think to hear and feel and small other species is to know the joy of the living world. May the gulls and other birds continue to nurture you there in the city!
We forget when we are surrounded by our built environments that wild is everywhere--it is the expression of life (the capital L kind) going about its essential business, whether on a micro-scale or a macro-scale. For me, that is the most hopeful thing about this earth--life continues, no matter our human failings.
I know I'm late to this party, but I just wanted to thank you, Susan and Amanda, for this episode in the series. This sentence really spoke to me: "I had to learn to trust myself as a scientist and writer–on my own merits–before my writing and my work restoring blighted ecosystems really flourished." Isn't that the way it so often goes!
Susan’s book WALKING NATURE HOME was among my best reading discoveries of 2023. I arrived at your stack by happy accident and was delighted to find this interview, both inspiring and practical. Great tip about voice memos!
This was such a beautiful reflection that made my heart go back to hikes through the arid landscapes of Colorado. I now live in Bogotá, and while this city of 13 million is nestled in a valley surrounded by mountains, it's hard to get to them often. Group hiking days and walks in parks are some of my only time to escape the concrete jungle. However, my apartment has a stunning view overlooking the city under the wide open sky. I connect with nature when I do yoga in my living room at sunset, and the pinks and oranges spill across the sky, over my neighborhood's buildings, and through the window. It also makes me feel part of the community around me, even though most may be strangers. I do think this sense of connectedness energizes my writing too.
Also, I find it so fascinating that nearly every author you've interviewed in this series has answered the first question in the same way - "Both." We writers are a unique breed aren't we? Both burying our noses in books and running around outside - and both bringing us in touch with different worlds.
Thanks for chiming in, Sarah! I really loved the imagery of belonging in the city and almost "ushering in" nature to where you're living now. I want to think more thoughtfully about how to do this in my life as it's unfolding back in a suburb of Dallas.
Also, what a neat reflection on the authors answering "both" in the first question! I think it reflects an agility of the writer's way of moving through the world. :)
Thank you! Belonging and ushering in are perfect words to describe it. 💙
Your description of Bogotá and the view from your apartment is gorgeous, Sarah! Thank you for bringing your view and your sense of connectedness to this space too. May your memories of Colorado hikes and your experiences in Bogotá continue to inform your writing and enrich your days.
I noticed that “both,” too and really enjoy seeing so many who share those joys!
This was wonderful. Thank you. <3 I was just listening for the umpteenth time yesterday to Krista Tippett's wonderful, extended interview with Mary Oliver on the On Being podcast. If there's a patron saint of something like terraphilia, it's got to be Mary. Like many writers, she constantly walked about with a small notebook, but I'm liking this idea of using voice recording apps. There definitely is a way that the mind flows and the voice is different, and I need to start capturing that consistently. Thank you for the prod, Susan.
Gosh, I love this series, Amanda!
Asha, Thank you! I remember hearing that interview with Mary Oliver, but I haven't listened to it in years. I'll go back and find it and listen again. I used to carry a notebook as a field botanist, but I don't write fast enough to keep up with my feverish brain (hah!), so the voice memo on my phone works better. Also, I can "write" and pace that way, and that somehow helps me focus.
Amanda, I am so honored to be part of your Cave of the Heart series! Thank you for including me, and for those inspiring questions. I learned more about myself and how I walk this world in answering them.
Thank you Amanda and Susan ❤️ I am so enjoying the sense of peeking into different artistic lives and people, and finding community there. I’ve loved outside, often without feeling permission to explore that (not being Outdoorsy whatever that means... perhaps mostly not having access to wilderness and not being fond of camping with people who mock beginners rather than help them). It wasn’t until my 30s that I understood my own biophilia. In the pandemic the weeds and street trees near my inner city apartment would move me to tears of gratitude, let alone birds and sky.
Here’s to hearing more of your voice Susan.
Michelle, Thank you! I am so sorry that your experiences of being outside and camping included people who were not welcoming and actually mocked you as a beginner. That sucks. I'm glad you found your own path to discovering your biophilia. For me, terraphilia (which I define as our innate love of the earth herself and all living beings) doesn't require wilderness or big wild spaces; it's about loving what we have nearby. All of the little wild ones who have figured out how inhabit our built environments are just as precious as those photogenic redwoods and grizzly bears, as my dad used to say, the "charismatic wildlife and plants." Give me the mosses and lichens growing on building stones, the purslane poking out of the sidewalk cracks (which is, BTW, quite edible), the wild cherry trees slipping toward the sky between buildings, and the rock doves (and the peregrine falcons that hunt them from building ledges). May your nearby wild always sustain and uplift you!
Maureen, I just wrote a haiku that includes raven voices, so your words about the gull voices in your city environment resonate with me. I think that hearing other species is a special joy when we are in the midst of the built environment. As the American writer and climate activist Terry Tempest Williams said yesterday in a Zoom conversation, "They are calling us." I think to hear and feel and small other species is to know the joy of the living world. May the gulls and other birds continue to nurture you there in the city!
We forget when we are surrounded by our built environments that wild is everywhere--it is the expression of life (the capital L kind) going about its essential business, whether on a micro-scale or a macro-scale. For me, that is the most hopeful thing about this earth--life continues, no matter our human failings.
Nature finds a way, doesn’t it? Whenever and wherever possible. There is such hope in that.
That nature finds a way to thrive wherever is what keeps me going in these times. There is indeed a huge dose of hope in that!
I know I'm late to this party, but I just wanted to thank you, Susan and Amanda, for this episode in the series. This sentence really spoke to me: "I had to learn to trust myself as a scientist and writer–on my own merits–before my writing and my work restoring blighted ecosystems really flourished." Isn't that the way it so often goes!
Always happy to hear from you, Priscilla! And yes, it does seem to be the way things go ... 🙃
Can you help
Susan’s book WALKING NATURE HOME was among my best reading discoveries of 2023. I arrived at your stack by happy accident and was delighted to find this interview, both inspiring and practical. Great tip about voice memos!