Listening to the Earth

Our ancient refuge for resilience and insight

Listening to nature with our bare feet touching the Earth, breathing in the scent of the mountains, paying attention to the feelings that arise spontaneously in our hearts, we become aware of decisions that we need to make without delay.

Arkan Lushwala, The Spirit of the Glacier Speaks: Ancestral Teachings of the Andean World for the Time of Natural Disorder

Dear Readers, These thoughts took me a while to put into words but it helped my resilience to do so and I hope you’ll experience benefit. It felt right to start with an acknowledgement of gratitude for the land I live on—which I haven’t done yet in this newsletter. And I’ll end with gratitude for one of my teachers, Kaira Jewel Lingo, who also posted today on a similar topic.

Land acknowledgement

I was born, raised, schooled—and am grateful to live now—on the beautiful land of the Lisjan Ohlone People on the eastern slope of what’s now San Francisco Bay. This land was once open grassland studded with oak trees, where many creeks ran down to the bay sheltered by redwood groves. Spanish, then Mexican, then Anglo settlers colonized fiercely here, subjecting the Lisjan to servitude—and much worse—in Catholic missions and European-style ranches. (If you want to know the deep pain of this period, read Deborah Miranda’s beautiful book Bad Indians.)

Ohlone history, art, and culture were not in our schoolbooks, but growing up here, I didn’t know a thing about them until the 1970’s. I was in my 40’s, then, and eager to learn what I could. In 2005, I joined efforts of the Lisjan and their allies to educate local people and restore their culture. Twenty years later, what began as a small group has organized a significant presence through a remarkable non-profit, The Sogorea Te’ Land Trust. I gratefully pay their brilliantly-designed Shuumi Land Tax enabling them to regain land, language, and agency. I’ve listed them and others in my reparative will. The story of their relationship with this land is at the root of just about everything I think about or undertake—including this newsletter. If there are ever paid supporters for this newsletter, Sogorea Te’ will receive a tithe.

From the beautiful Sogorea Te’ tee shirt

Early listening

I couldn't have fully known it or named it as a child, but I was fortunate to connect with an important source of emotional resilience and insight very early in life. I had a mother with a deep connection to what we called “nature.” As soon as she'd served her kids breakfast, she would step out the back door with her cup of coffee and walk slowly through the yard checking in with the plants. It seemed like she was listening to them. Back then she knew nothing about the Lisjan People or how they’d tended this same land. Her garden held spring bulbs from Europe, Asian camellias, ripening lemons in big pots, an apple tree starting to bud out. In those days there were a lot more birds than now, and she listened to them too. We didn't interrupt her at these times. It was like she was praying.

My mother’s connection with the natural world somehow passed to me. Soon I had a garden patch, and a lifelong affinity for the plants, animals, winds and waters. In those days I didn't see myself as a living part of this network the way Indigenous Peoples do—and Buddhists. But even so I remember feelings of awe as I lay on the Earth (sometimes with my mother) in a springtime wildflower meadow or high in the mountains near a snow-melt stream. In these moments, l was in contact with the more-than-human world. Even now I recall the feelings of elation, clarity and strength that sometimes lasted for days after one of these encounters. I was complete. I could return to a school where I didn't think I fitted in—and learn in my own ways.

Meadow near Mt. Hoffman in Northern Yosemite Park

I wish we had a world where every child growing up could know this kind of kinship with plants, animals, winds, and waters—and the access it gives us to the more-than-human—to our own healing and that of our world. So many do not have the economic means to vacation in the mountains or have a garden. And the our media sets some of us yearning for other kinds of gratification. Still, many of us hope to someday recreate a world where direct experiences with Mother Earth are available to everyone.

To this day, when the news is hard to bear—when I realize I’m out of the zone and need resilience—I go outdoors to feel the sun, walk, lie on the earth, check the plants in the urban garden I share with my neighbors. If I were younger and more fit, I’d walk up into the hills or along the waters. I especially love being out after a rainstorm when everything is washed clean and sunlight flashes against big drops of moisture on the leaves. These times always lift my heart, leaving me with a kind of "I can do it" energy which I think is my version of "hope." People who study emotional healing have names for such practices—forest bathing, healing gardens, and ecotherapy (the latter beautifully linked to social justice by my friend Phoenix Smith).

For me, these times of deep connection with the natural world grew into what I called in Inherited Silence, "listening to the land." As I learned the painful story of my settler ancestors and the “soul wound” of colonization, my "listening" deepened to include grief for the land’s history. This helped me acknowledge, heal, and work to repair the harm of it. As I began to heal, I found my way to Indigenous teachers who understood "nature" in ways that helped me continue to grow. My understanding of Buddhism also deepened.

Listening for insight beyond “human supremacy”

While researching my family’s history alongside the California genocide, I spent time on the land they’d settled—rural land about an hour north, whose rightful caretakers were the Mishewal (Wappo) people. My parents had moved there towards the end of their lives and my mother, who now realized the beauty and importance of California native plants, had spent her last years gardening with them. There I listened to what the land was telling me about changing climate and Earth mismanagement in our times. Golf courses and European-style gardens were draining the aquifers there, herbicides polluting what was left. A new disease attacked oak populations as mega-wildfires loomed. My research convinced me that the extractive mindset of colonization had set this devastation in motion. This idea came from the history and ecology I was reading and how I’d been trained to think. But it also came from listening to the land—from those mornings of scant birdsong, from loss of spaciousness in the woods as underbrush accumulated and the air grew smoky as wildfires became more frequent. I was still in touch with the more-than-human sensibility I’d enjoyed as a child gardening with my mother.

When my Buddhist teacher, Thich Nhát Hanh, was asked what we can we do for the earth, his answer was “Listen inside yourself for the sounds of the Earth crying.” I was hearing those cries, and it was heartbreaking. As I acknowledged the history of loss, I began to meet Indigenous people of the region, including Mishewal friends who knew the plant world and could even sing to the oak trees. One teacher I was honored to work with came from the Global South. Arkan Lushwala—author, healer, and ceremonial leader dedicated to the traditions of his Andean ancestors who’d been so deeply affected by colonization.

Arkan helped me when the weight of my acknowledged history turned to illness during the final phases of writing my book. He reminded me—as Buddhist teachings would also—that Earth is not vindictive but loves us all. Rather than trying to work this out in my head, he urged me to spend more time “in Nature” and not to “think too much.” To seek insight directly from the Earth, not from theories about ancestor-complicity. He spoke of Einstein’s “A problem cannot be solved from the mind that created it,” and encouraged me to change my thinking now, while I was unwell. Once recovered, I would lose motivation and easily return to old habits. My trained mind did not let go easily, but I made a start. I’m more aware of my habits now and can choose.

Now I seek a way that would have sounded strange at earlier stages of my life. How do I spend time with the Earth—free of thought, sensing with my body, without help from my trained mind? Can I reach a mind-state free of ego and conventional thought, truly open to new ways of understanding? A state where things not in books, podcasts or newsletters may show us new (or maybe very old) ways to meet the overlapping crises of our times? Arkan’s teaching invites all of us to use our minds differently. His Andean traditions say our world is experiencing a pachakuti—a great cyclic turning where new cosmic energies flowing in will actually heal the earth and ourselves if we can receive them. The problem is that the era of violence and colonization just ending has shaped how most of us use our minds. Many of us can’t hear the teachings of the pachakuti. We are stuck in the mindset he calls “human supremacy,” deaf to the messages of an Earth that is trying its best to help us.

Buddhist listening

More and more I see that Buddhism calls for something similar. I’m not a scholar or a teacher of this ancient practice, but I’m learning how its different traditions train the mind to let go of habitual thinking. While most in the US see meditation as a search for inner peace—and this can truly be a source of resilience—there is far more. Buddhist trainings help empty our minds, help us actually become “emptiness” (not shaped by a separate self.) This way we are no longer driven by what we’ve been taught, by ego, habit, or our culture. We are free to feel our deep connections with the whole system that is Earth, to know we are part of this system, not in charge—either as individuals or collectively as humans. Just as Arkan says, humility (from the Latin root word humus, “the earth”) is essential. Can we actually feel how all things are connected—what Thich Nhát Hanh calls Interbeing? For me “Interbeing,” “emptiness,” and moments of “timeless awareness” are Buddhist ways of expressing what Arkan calls letting go of human supremacy, and Lakota elder, Basil Brave Heart, calls “the hollow bone.” Even as I write this paragraph, I’m aware that my mind wants to stay in control by “thinking,” using conceptual language for things that can only be felt. But I am beginning to feel their truth.

In 2012, Thich Nhát Hanh wrote a book called Love Letter to the Earth where he speaks of Earth’s great powers of survival and creativity and our difficulty recognizing that we are actually part of Earth rather than separate. About listening, he says,

Each of us can be someone who knows how to listen deeply. We can practice listening deeply to ourselves, to others, and to the Earth….in order to understand and to relieve suffering.

For me listening to the Earth has helped me listen to my own suffering in a way that helps me understand and heal. As Thich Nhát Hanh also says in this book, “When we understand our suffering, it transforms.” This is the source of true resilience and what makes action possible.

From listening to action

Lest our actions bring further harm, both Buddhist and Andean teachings encourage us not to act out of suffering but only when guided by insight free of ordinary thinking—free of ego, dualism, and trauma. An opportunity for such action arose for me as I wrote this post. In recent months, I’d been talking with two Buddhist women friends as they deepened their allyship with Indigenous People. In February, they’d joined a small Buddhist Delegation providing spiritual accompaniment to Apache People in their decades-long effort to preserve a sacred ceremonial site known as Oak Flat from destruction by a copper mine. My friends’ stories of ceremonial time with the Apache touched my heart—particularly their expressions of deep connection to the land they’d visited and their call to engagement. It seemed they were “Listening to the Earth”—which opened the way for me also.

For years the Apache have been building legal and faith-based support for their long struggle to stop this copper mine. Their case is in line to be heard by the Supreme Court. But, as support builds in this time of crazed extraction, a drama occurred in early May, when the President ordered the site turned over to mining interests immediately rather than waiting for the Supreme Court hearing. The Apaches filed for an injunction on May 7, and crowds vigiled all day at the District 12 Courthouse in Phoenix. That same day my two friends organized an hour-long meditation on zoom to honor the Apache request and protect the land at Oak Flat. People joined us from several regions for photographs and a beautiful guided meditation. For me it was a profound time of “listening to the earth,” and I think all of us felt its power. (Both Buddhist and Andean traditions say the “listening” is most effective when done collectively.) We were overjoyed when, two days later, the judge halted the injunction with strong words favoring the Apache claim. If you watch this 90 second film about Oak Flat, I think you’ll feel some of what we felt.

Alas there is an update: On the day I posted this piece, the Supreme Court decided not to hear the case. Dr. Wendler Nosie, Sr. of Apache Stronghold says “the struggle is far from over” and we await news of their plans.

Listening practices for resilience:

Every stage of the Earth listening journey offers resilience practices—from the ones I learned with my mother to those that lead us toward changed ways of thinking to meet the challenges that surround us now. Here are some practices to try:

• Connect with Earth. Go outside to a place you can sit without being disturbed—a yard, a park, near a river or other body of water, to a cluster of trees in your neighborhood. If outdoors isn’t possible, sit with a houseplant in your own quiet space, or with a photograph—or even a memory—of a place you’ve loved in the natural world. If outside, try lying on the ground or sitting with bare feet on the earth, where you’ll sometimes feel special energy. (A friend does this in her imagination during morning exercises.) It’s also helpful to place hands on your belly and feel it gently rising as you breathe in—an important resilience practice in itself as neurologists will tell you. If you’re comfortable meditating, do it here for a while. Or you can just lie or sit where you are, sensing what you feel in and around you—warmth, a little breeze, odors and sounds. Try to let go of your thoughts and stay open to what it feels like to “listen to the earth”—with all the layers of meaning that may hold for you.

• Turn off the thinking mind. Letting go of thinking doesn’t come easily for many, especially if we’re from a culture like mine that so highly values the conceptually trained mind. For me it’s been useful to focus on body sensations—where in my body do I feel my anxiety? What other feelings arise? And how do I resist labeling each of them with a with a story from the mind about what it means. It’s also helped me to wordlessly draw or paint. But most important has been letting myself melt into the kind of sensations I experienced with such delight as a child—bird song, the feel of a warm spring day in a wildflower field. How do we let go—just for a while—of our “educated, thinking, rational minds.” As Arkan says, “it’s very good to have such a mind but it shouldn’t be supreme.“

• Listening as an equal. Arkan suggests practices for moving beyond human supremacy. “Go talk to a tree,” he told the Pachamama Alliance a few months ago, “to a stone, to a little plant—and be equal. Don’t put yourself above….go there in a humble way, introduce yourself, say your name, say hello.…and feel equal….Have a conversation, a humble conversation. You may have something to give…but you are also willing to receive something….” He describes this here (starting at 22.30). I’ve tried this idea as a writing prompt and it seemed to take me very deep, saying surprising things that did not come from my trained mind.

• Gifts of gratitude—the spirit plate. In the way of reciprocity, many cultures offer gifts to thank the Earth for taking care of us. At gatherings with Indigenous People, I’m drawn to the practice of the spirit plate. Before a shared meal, a wise person fills a small plate with tiny bites of food from each dish to be served, then places it on the earth saying a prayer of gratitude. I wanted to use this practice in my own life, but hesitated. Very early in my experience with Indigenous People, I'd learned to accept their spiritual practices with respect when offered, but not to appropriate them as my own. (My friend Myke Johnson wrote cogently about this in the 1990s.) More recently on a peace-walk I'd helped organize, I asked my Native co-organizers, "Who should offer the spirit plate?" Their answer surprised me. "Everyone should take a turn," they said. "We aren't the only ones who know how to pray. In these times, we need everyone to do this!" Since then I’ve taken my turn and often offered the spirit plate in the garden outside my home.

• Bring Earth to your meetings. This idea from Arkan spoke to me right away. Position an object of nature visibly at every gathering—as a reminder that human supremacy is not at the center. Especially if you are meeting for healing or to discuss protecting the Earth, be sure that Earth has a presence at your meeting. If you’re gathering in person, place a rock, the blooming branch of a plum tree, herbs from your own culture, or even a potted plant in the middle of your circle. I’ve adapted this for zoom meetings by using a photograph—like the big oak branch that opens each issue of this newsletter—as my background. Feel free to start the meeting with gratitude for this Earth presence and a reminder to others of why you’ve used it. Do you notice any effects?

Diving deeper:

Action to Protect Sacred Lands: Oak Flat and Apache Stronghold. There will be more need for faith communities to stand with the Apache in the coming months. You can prepare by learning more about the context of their struggle. My friends and I will continue to organize Buddhist support but meanwhile here’s some homework.

• Becket Law firm representing Apache Stronghold. The U.S. Supreme Court has yet to announce whether or not they will hear the Apache appeal.

• Apache Stronghold website and Facebook page with photos and updates

• Engaged Buddhism and Dismantling the Doctrine of Discovery recorded webinar giving some context of inspiring Mennonite organizing.

Oak Flat focus with Earth Holder Community: June 8 at 8 am PT/ 11 am ET. Instructions for joining the zoom session are on the Earth Holder website. This is a global community in the tradition of Thich Nhát Hanh—with an environmental and social justice focus. My friends and I will offer their June meditation session.

Action to restore boarding school research funding. Another recent federal action removed funding for investigating the harm caused by Native American boarding schools. With the Native American Boarding School Healing Coalition (NABS), Diné sister Lyla June Johnston and my friend Hilary Giovale (Becoming a Good Relative) have organized a webinar of Healing, Prayer, and ACTION. They hope to bring people together in unity and raise funds so the work of collecting oral histories and digitizing records can continue. All funds will go directly to NABS. The webinar takes place from 9:30-11:00 PT/12:30-2:00 ET on Saturday, June 7. Register HERE.

Arkan Lushwala,. A rare chance to hear this beloved Peruvian ceremonial leader, author, and respected elder speak on line with The Pachamama Alliance’s Resilience and Possibility series. May 28, 12-1:30 pm pacific time. Info and registration here.

Arkan is author of three books about Andean thinking that have deepened my listening to the earth: The Time of the Black Jaguar, Deer and Thunder, and most recently The Spirit of the Glacier Speaks, which lays out his understanding of the pachakuti our world is experiencing and the beneficial possibilities it offers if we are able to listen. You can read several short chapters here.

Earth Listening Circles. Upon guidance from Arkan, The Pachamama Alliance is organizing Earth Listening Circles—2-hour virtual sessions where people from around the world gather to listen deeply to the Earth and each other for insight. I haven’t experienced one yet but want to when I can. The next one is June 20, our summer solstice in the northern hemisphere. Information and registration here.

Thich Nhát Hanh. The book I’ve quoted is Love Letter to the Earth.

The Alliance for Ecotherapy and Social Justice. As key parts of our healthcare system are lost, I’m deeply inspired by the work my friend Phoenix Smith is doing to make Earth healing available to all. You can learn about this work (and support it in a time of great need) at their website and through short beautiful videos on their youtube channel, especially this recent one. And I mean it about support. The Alliance is working hard to provide services our society is abandoning, and they could use our help. Tax-deductible link on their website.

Healing Gardens have been my longtime friend Clare Marcus' life-work (teaching, consulting, writing, and hands in the soil). Here’s a useful website resource about this growing field. Clare’s most recent book is Therapeutic Gardens. In her 90s, she’ll have another out in 2026: Grounded: How the Professor, the Mother, and the Gardener Survived and Thrived. Clare’s work has made Earth listening possible for many.

Interhelp, based in the northeast, serves us all in the spirit of Joanna Macy’s Work That Reconnects. Sharing interest in the themes of this post, they’ll offer a zoom workshop: Living in Earth (w/ Anne Goodwin), June 24th 7-8:30 ET. Register here.

To stimulate listening. It’s paradoxical, but I’m recommending two books and an interview that have been resilience resources for me in these times. They may stimulate your auditory sense, lift your spirits, and maybe even lower your blood pressure. The interview has awesome sound clips.

• Christian McEwen’s In Praise of Listening. Fascinating stories of deep listeners and beautiful, beautiful prose. Christian takes us far, far into the evolution of listening that I am drawn to explore.

• Zoë Schlanger’s The Light Eaters: How the Unseen World of Plant Intelligence Offers a New Understanding of Life on Earth. A young and very talented science writer becomes fascinated with the many ways plants listen, communicate, and—yes—“think.” Who says we cannot learn from them?

• Bernie Krause interview, “Earwitness to Place”: Krause is a musician and bioacoustician with fifty years of recording soundscapes around the world—and their changes as “global heating” sets in. This interview also covers the loss of Krause’s home and archives to the same monumental wildfires I wrote about in Inherited Silence.

WITH GRATITUDE: Please read Kaira Jewel’s May Substack “We need you, we need you,” which arrived in my inbox as I was close to posting this one. This beloved teacher writes so beautifully about listening to the Earth—adding many dimensions—awe and wonder, the song of the Eastern Phoebe (“we need you, we need you.”)