#naturewriter

[sunnyanddumb98]

Don't mind me just quoting myself "In my dream, when turning, the bus tilts so much that I see directly at the sea. I love watching the sunset from that road: the ships full of containers, the sun shining over the sea like fireworks or champagne, the sea lions diving from the ruins of an ancient port, the teenagers on skates, teenagers with beer, teenagers on weed, everyone sitting on the rocks among seagulls, staring at the sea, like meerkats or sunflowers. Toddlers and shiny things "

[frnwhcom]

John Muir’s contributions to conservation and national parks are significant, yet his legacy is marred by his era’s racist views toward Native Americans and other ethnic groups. Notably, Muir was instrumental in the creation of the National Park system and co-founded the Sierra Club. His writings inspired many to value and protect nature, infusing the environmental movement with respect and stewardship philosophies. However, critical examination of his life reveals a complex figure with profound achievements alongside reflective prejudices of his time.

[wanderlustandwildflowersblog]

Source: Unknown

“We need the tonic of wildness...At the same time that we are earnest to explore and learn all things, we require that all things be mysterious and unexplorable, that land and sea be indefinitely wild, unsurveyed and unfathomed by us because unfathomable. We can never have enough of nature.”

― Henry David Thoreau, Walden: Or, Life in the Woods

[megbits]

It’s been years since I’ve been on Tumblr, and in the meantime, I began a Substack focused on our relationship to land and place in a time of climate chaos, with a focus on land return, reparations, and questions of belonging. Hoping I can do some sharing and thinking here that fits into these themes but doesn’t quite make it into the longer Substack pieces. Here’s the lead-in essay to the 2022 recap, to give you a taste of what’s been going on over there:

“The two-year anniversary of Unsettling has come and gone with the recent holidays. Like many others who observe the winter solstice, I took that day to reflect upon what I might leave behind in the dark and what I hope to grow with the light. My own ritual tries to make the practice material, sitting in the actual dark until I am sure of what I am releasing in the old year and only then lighting a candle as I speak aloud what I wish to grow as the sun returns.

This year I sat in the dark a long, long time, trying to sense and see the themes of the year, assess personal challenges that were ready at this particular moment to be looked squarely in the face and then let go of. Only I came up empty.

Ritual can accomplish many goals. One of them is a sense of agency, the performance of intent. This gets extra play in a culture centered on individualism, with all its related focus on self-help or self-actualization. That this is the focus in my own solstice ritual may be why it took a very long time for me to accept that there were no personal demons to lay to rest just at this moment—that what would be staying in the dark had been chosen for me, and that “laying to rest” was, this year, quite literal. It felt too obvious, but the truth of it was bare and real, the memory of gathering with all of my siblings to bid farewell to one of our parents not yet a week old.

At the beginning of this year, I wrote a lot here about rivers—the harm that human industry has wrought on them, our attempts to control them, the resulting consequences on ways for living in common. On the solstice, the image of a river kept appearing to me once again. Rivers, those vast and shifting beings that channel and carry so much.

One of a river’s powers is its ability to carry the earth along with it—be it boulders moved by rapid glacial melt or the tiniest grains of sand—and then, just as importantly, to leave that earth behind. Neither the carrying nor the leaving perhaps quite fits with our sometimes narrow notions of agency. But the growth of so much life—including our own—depends on rivers as major agents of change: all those centuries of delta deposits have made much of human civilization possible. The mountains cut down and the oceans swell and all the world is fed along the way as rivers pick up and let go, pick up and let go.

No wonder rivers are classic metaphors for both change and life. There in the dark, though, I began to wonder if we aren’t overly stuck in one particular riverine analogy. I’m thinking of the classic “you never step in the same river twice,” which places us humans on the banks, separate from the water, choosing when to step in and out of the flow of change. This emphasis may not have been intentional, coming from Heraclitus, famous for thinking about flow and impermanence. Still, we end up some place quite different if we conceive of ourselves not as spectators on the shore but as rivers ourselves, receiving and carrying unexpected gifts and weights from the world, all of which we must leave behind, thereby transforming both the channel in which we flow and the objects we have borne as surely as they transform us. That we may not actively choose what we carry or when we must bid it farewell in no way diminishes neither the importance of our action nor or power as actors.

So what have we channeled this year at Unsettling? Where all did we go and where do we find ourselves now at year’s end, and what got polished or broken apart on our way? Here are some of 2022’s major themes, some planned and some pleasantly unexpected:”

Read the rest at unsettling.substack.com.

[valaofdreamsandvisions]

𝑮𝒐 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆, 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕... 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒔? 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒖𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 🌬🌫🌱

𝑮𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒕𝒐 𝑨𝒓𝒅𝒂'𝒔 𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚

𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒔, 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒂 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆. 𝑭𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒔, 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒃 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔. 𝑻𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓.

𝑹𝒖𝒏 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒐𝒕, 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒅𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒖𝒅. 𝑻𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆'𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒌𝒔, 𝒍𝒂𝒚 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒔. 𝑳𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒍 𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍, 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒆.

𝑷𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓, 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒃𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆. 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒈𝒊𝒇𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒉.

༆༆

[sheilammyers]

What Would Rachel Do?

Get off Social Media

As famous as she was from winning the National Book Award for The Sea Around Us, Rachel was averse to public speaking and aggrandizement, much to the chagrin of her agent. When The Edge of the Sea hit the New York Times Bestseller list in the fall of 1955, she had numerous requests to speak at public events and declined most of them. 

She was a solid "NO" to the numerous requests from magazines to run a profile on her as well. Rachel didn't see her author life as a brand and didn't seek the attention. I'm not sure if she was afraid of the scrutiny she would receive by allowing the press into her personal life, or her natural shyness, but it doesn't mean she wasn't focused on the success of her work.

Indeed, The Edge of the Sea and another book about life at the sea, albeit, a non-scientific and philosophical take, Anne Lindbergh's Gift from the Sea exchanged places on the top ten list throughout 1955-56 on various news outlets. Rachel takes note of it in letters to her friend, Dorothy. 

"...I truly-even now-don't expect The Edge (The Edge of the Sea) ever to reach #1 spot, but I'd be happy that it is Mrs. Lindbergh's book and not something sensational or trashy."

Trashy included the book about a woman who under hypnosis discovers she'd lived another life decades earlier. After years of being at the top ten, Rachel doesn't hold back on her disdain for losing rank to Bridey Murphy (1956) which hit #1 on Chicago Tribune in 1956. "I think this silly Bridey Murphy thing is going to scoot right up and crowd Mrs. Lindbergh...The Edge by the way is No. 6- up one." And then weeks later,  "That wretched Bridey Murphy thing has displaced Mrs. Lindbergh! That is really a blow. "

Rachel didn't have to deal with today's social media spotlight that casts rays well beyond the reach of newspapers or magazines of her time. And she wasn't in a position to write anything with a pseudonym like Elena Ferrante, you don't get the chance to write a biography of the sea, and a scathing indictment against the chemical industry anonymously. Yet, her detachment from public scrutiny allowed her to write one of her most challenging work of all--Silent Spring (1962).  And then all hell broke loose. 

With that in mind, I've gotten to 7k words in this novel set in Maine that has Rachel as a 'macguffin' in the story. And I'm thinking with the holidays coming, this might be time to shut down my own social media, and detach myself from that public for a few weeks so I can keep writing. 

Happy Holidays everyone! See you in the New Year. 

Sources: William Souder. On a Farther Shore. The Life and Legacy of Rachel Carson. 2012. 

​Always, Rachel. The Letters of Rachel Carson And Dorothy Freeman. 1952-1964. Edited by Martha Freeman.

[fernycreek]

Garden Meditations

Out the window there are about 3 or 4 cute little Superb Fairy-wrens fluttering about and chirping away in the rain soaked vibrant-green garden. Such chipper little birds. The old beautiful pin oak watches over us, cooling the surroundings - nature’s airconditioner you could say. The setting sun to the north-west glows a warm yellow on the trunks of the mature eucalyptus across the road which have absorbed the wisdom of time. The window is open after the cool change has come through so I can hear the sounds of the wrens drinking and bathing in the bird bath. I like the delicate sound of them flapping and hopping in the water. It would be nice to record for a music piece. I love the calm sounds of nature. 

DM.

[mumbled-tea]

Take a glance at

Day night up downs are required in life, but can you also lift your head up sometimes? Take time out of your work you workaholic, and give it to mother nature time to time.

Just get up early one day and watch the sunrise, the birds will sing a good morning song for you. Stand in your terrace instead of staying in bed, you'll know what cuddles by the nature feels like.

A flock riding the blue and white sky, in different patterns that always amaze children. If you see a healthy plant with blooming flowers, the plant is greeting you a good day ahead.

Have you ever seen a swaying tree and rumbling leaves in a windy evening? As if floating in air, dancing every beat off, in contrast with the enchanting sound of wind.

See it with the view of a nature photographer, and feel the surroundings like a writer. Nature is the therapist you're looking for, it always have a cure to your stressful routine.

[thomasottio]

[rogerrcoyle]

nature writes

when nature speaks… a cross, the light, the spirit!

[sunnyanddumb98]

he first time I hiked Carbon Hill, I realized my favourite cousin and I were drifting apart for the stupidest reason. It had always been there, and despite it, we became close. But I think the recession made it harder to ignore—our tax brackets seem farther apart, not just in what we can afford but in how we speak, in our hopes and dreams. Before, it wasn’t something we really thought about, but now, what I feel is an integral part of myself isn't something she even considers in her world. blissfully.

[capecodartandnature]

Finding joy in ordinary everyday things may be a good antidote for depression caused by our increasingly overwhelming world. My latest column is in the link in my bio. #greenheron #birdpainting #capecodchronicle #naturewriting https://www.instagram.com/p/CrGFztJu4jU/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[thomasbombadilius]

I read Deep Country by Neil Ansell. I picked up this book on a whim last time I visited Hay-On-Wye and thought I’d give it a go. Encouraged by one of the reviews on the cover that called Ansell a “latter day Thoreau” I was expecting a short book with some philosophical treatises on the nature of humanity when reflecting in an environment stripped of the comforts of modernity. Of that assumption I got……a short book. Whichever reviewer likened Ansell to Henry David Thoreau was doing them both a disservice as, beyond the concept of Ansell retreating to a remote cabin, there are no similarities. Less a political statement, the author goes off to live a life of solitude in the Cambrian mountains on a whim and soon discovers the joy of living a quieter existence. Given time away from distractions, Ansell is able to dedicate his free time to familiarising himself with the wildlife, particularly the birds! Oh boy does he talk about birds a lot! The book starts off with some lyrical chapters about nature and humanity but starts to drip feed in paragraphs about the feathery visitors that he received in his time in the cabin. This soon becomes a torrent of bird related facts that I was left wondering when he was going to move onto literally any other animal. After a short section that started off with him hiking over the moorland which quickly switched to him talking solely about a ptarmigan he’d disturbed, I had to check who else had read this book and I soon noticed that it had received rave reviews from RSPB associated groups and bird spotters. Not so much a latter day Thoreau, Ansell is more a latter day Emily Williamson (who was one of the founders of the RSPB, I literally looked her up for the sake of this review)! Whilst his writing is lyrical and transported me to a beautiful place, I couldn’t help but feel, by the end of the book, I was reading the chapters of Moby Dick that focused on the whaling industry when I’d been told that there was a really good story about the folly of man and a bloke called Ishmael! Read this is you like birds! #bookstagram #books #naturewriting https://www.instagram.com/p/CnuVeO3shr6/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[theperfectbath]

There is a legend that speaks of a Forest, ancient and wise, hidden from humans, protected by mountains. Only the trusted may enter. To find your way from beyond the Wandering Ridge is rare, through mist and pitfalls, past sparkling gems, around false paths, with a glimmer of hope to light your way. Trust your toes. They know more than you think. I’ve started a blog called Tales of Mosswood Forest. It’s a celebration of nature, imagination, healing, favorite recipes, retellings of ancient tales, garden adventures, and other things I love and hope you do too! Find it through our website, link in bio. Or search Tales of Mosswood Forest. It’s very new, just a seed, but that’s a lot more than a thought, which it’s been for a very long time. I’m glad you’re here at the planting. I hope you’ll enjoy watching it grow! Let me know, what stories or topics might you be most excited to read about? ✨🦔🌲🌙🌱🐢 Map by me 📸 pexels #stories #forest #naturewriting #fantasywriting #healing #healingjourney #blog #naturelover #naturelovers #garden #map #fantasymap #mosswood #moss #talesof #mosswoodforest (at St. Clair Shores, MI) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cno6UvaLwBC/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[finishinglinepress]

NEW FROM FINISHING LINE PRESS: Resting Place by Theresa Hickey

On SALE now! Pre-order Price Guarantee: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/resting-place-by-theresa-hickey/

Theresa Hickey is an award-winning poet, free-lance writer and lifelong learner. Prior books include Raising the Child, Sighs of a Gracious Nature and Shy, published by Finishing Line Press (2020). Shy was awarded a 2021 Poetry Book Award by the Catholic Media Association of the U.S. and Canada. Boston Globe Book Reviewer, Nina MacLaughlin, has praised her work and compared it to Mary Oliver’s: “The author focuses on life devoted to an ongoing search and questions of spirituality and faith . . . . ‘life lived in union with Spirit.’” Her work has appeared in Still Point Arts Quarterly, New England Memories, Halcyon Days, FaithND (Notre Dame), NatureWriting, Lifespan and other anthologies. You may contact Theresa at theresadhickey@gmail.com if interested in ordering books for fundraising projects, faith-education programs or gifts. Proceeds from sales will be donated to food banks or other nonprofits. #poetry #spirituality #Catholic

PRAISE FOR Resting Place by Theresa Hickey

” A sense of wonder in both the awe and questioning sense satiates many of these poems, reminding us of possibilities for change, for something new to crack everything wide open.”

–Nina MacLaughlin, The Boston Globe Book Reviewer

Please share/repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #read #poems #literature #poetry