Would you believe me if I told you that the spirits of nature want to connect with us?

Some of you reading this already have strong connections with the spirits of your land, or with plants, or with trees, mountains, or bodies of water. And some of you are appreciators of nature, but haven’t dived more deeply than that.

What kind of relationship does nature want to have with us? What kind of relationship does nature need us to have with her?

Recently, the spirit of the island where I live asked me to deliver a message to the community at large, and I’ve been unpacking it and beginning to understand its meaning.

What I was told was that nature, the Earth and the spirits of the land, want and need us to be in a reciprocal relationship with them. And, they want us to understand what that truly means.

In my mind the meaning of a reciprocal relationship is contained perfectly in the rune Gebo, the Gift. In the shape of an X, its essence denotes the balance of giving and receiving in relationship.

Nature does not want us to be its saviors.

Although it’s important to keep the wild places wild—and to fight for wildness when it’s needed—the spirits of nature are calling us to participate in relationship with them in a different way than most of us have been able to comprehend.

I’ve received hints about this shift in perspective during my walks in wild parts of the island where I live, but it became very clear to me when I was visiting the northern California coast about a month ago.

I walked out on the beach toward the tideline at around sunset. The waves were rolling in as if they were on top of one another—a constant roar. I listened and began to hum notes that became a melody, that I repeated over and over, while holding the intention of sharing a calm with the seas.

I cannot explain what happened, but the waves slowed.

There were more space and time between the breaking of each of them, and they brought a calm to the shore, rather than what had previously rolled in as a rage. This seemed a miracle to me, which, like any human, I tried to explain away by saying that maybe the raging was from the wake of a far-off, unseen ship. Yet, I knew in my heart what had happened. The Ocean and I had found a state of balanced reciprocity, of balance in Gebo.

Then, just yesterday, I took a walk I often take on the island where I live, and the gift was completely different and unexpected.

It was the windiest day I’d ever attempted to walk in that place, and, I thought, hey, maybe I’ll try to connect with the winds and the waters to see if the song that I hum can restore some calm. Well, that was my first mistake—intending that my gift to nature should control the elements in that moment.

My second mistake was attaching expectations to the result of my gift. I walked and sang and walked, and the wind didn’t change, and the waves kept rolling in as big as I’d seen them there.

But then, on my way back to my starting point, I decided to stop and turn towards the waters and sing, really sing out, with the intention of offering the song with no expectation.

I sang and sang, and detected no change in the waters, so I turned to continue singing while walking. As I turned, I looked up and saw a bald eagle gliding towards me, low enough where I could see the sun's glint reflecting gold from the contours of his feathers. I continued to sing, and, a little further down the trail, an osprey flew over me, looked down as if curious, and then went on his way.

Nature was giving back.

Just as we, as hikers, boaters, skiers, walkers, even just observers of nature out the window, receive a sense of calm, present moment awareness when we engage with nature, nature needs and wants to receive the same from us.

If you think about how houseplants or pets thrive or die, depending on the emotional environment in their homes, and apply that way of thinking to the wider natural world, this kind of reciprocity makes sense. As the human population begins to overwhelm the planet, the stress we carry begins to antagonize its breakdown.

The way to restore some sense of calm to Earth, our mother, now, is to sing to her, to share our present moment awareness WITH her—instead of always relying on her to give it TO us—to listen to her messages, and to give offerings, in the form of song or dance, poetry, prayer or intention, seeds or flowers scattered over her.

This message was given by the spirits of nature in order to seed the possibility of this type of reciprocal engagement with the wider world of nature—the one we invest in with our sensory awareness. In addition, engaging with the soil and native plants in the form of gardening is a wonderful gift to the spirits of the land in your particular location.

You can give back to Earth and the spirits of your land by appreciating them, and, yes, by protecting their right to stay wild, but you can live in reciprocity with them by sharing the beauty of your creations, by giving your offerings, by being present WITH nature instead of staying a passive observer or appreciator of its beauty. If you appreciate nature’s beauty, offer your own in return. The amount you have to give might surprise you.

Note: Sandra Ingerman wrote on developing a more conscious relationship with nature in her March Transmutation News, which she posted just a few days ago. This underscored for me that our reciprocal relationship with the natural world is an issue that needs to be recognized in the wider world, soon…or now...

In Reciprocity with the Natural World

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