Chapter 3: A New Way

I am a solitary person. Maybe I was born this way, or maybe I just became it; I am not sure. But even when I was little, it wasn’t to other people that I ran when I longed for comfort or connection. Instead, I would retreat to the forest around my childhood home. It was here, surrounded by a hundred shades of green, that I felt seen and heard and known. It was here that I was home. 

Perhaps it was my extreme sensitivity that drove me to become so solitary. I have always been highly affected by everything: food, environments, media, other people’s emotional state, collective energy, the list goes on. As a child, I assumed that everyone was this way and that I was just not good at dealing with it. So, as I grew into my teen years, I learned to repress what I felt and found tactics to numb myself. But this had many consequences, one being that I walked through life with an eternal sense of loneliness. It felt as though no one knew the real me. How could they? I was hiding, after all. But at the time, acceptance felt more important than anything else. By the time I entered adulthood, I had completely fallen for the lies. I believed that feeling deeply was a weakness that needed to be suppressed, that I needed to suffer to prove my worth, and that I was here to work, not create. So, I moved away from anything that strengthened my sensitivities, including my deep connection with nature. The hours of rest and play amongst the trees became an indulgent childish notion, something I needed to leave behind. It was time to trade dreaming and adventure for something else. And so began a long cycle of endless striving. 

I moved away for school and then a career. I didn’t play anymore, I just worked. Any downtime was spent drinking, only to repeat it all again the next week. Even when I achieved my dream of becoming a biologist, it didn’t fulfill me. And eventually, the very thing I worked so hard to achieve became my undoing. I held on for a while, but in time I began to descend. I developed a rigid perspective of life, and persistent feelings of sadness and emptiness began to haunt me. My spark for life was slowly fading, but I accepted it as a part of maturing. I told myself this was just how life was, and I kept going. For a decade, I pushed through. And then, one random day, my body just stopped. 

I laid down on the couch one morning before work, feeling exhausted even though I had slept, and when I attempted to rise, I couldn’t. It felt as though my legs were made of concrete, and I didn’t possess the strength to lift them. I remained there, terrified that something was horribly wrong with me. After a while, it passed, and although the experience scared me, I brushed it off. About a week later, it happened again. And again. I searched for an explanation, but there was none; I was in perfect physical health. My mind took this to mean that I was lazy and weak, and I needed to push harder, and for a while, I did. But eventually, I had no choice but to accept that my body was sending me a very clear message: stop or I will stop you, by any means necessary.

That was the beginning of my long lesson in letting go. I didn’t realize it then, how deep I would be called, but my body already knew something I didn’t. And although my mind fought on for years, berating me with panic, and guilt, and incessant thoughts that I needed to keep forcing, within me, underneath all the noise, something softly whispered, “it’s time to remember, there is another way”. I chose to listen to that tiny voice, and over time, that whisper has become my mantra. 

It’s taken me years to heal, to exit survival mode, to bring my nervous system into a state of balance, to erase the societal programming from my mind, to let go of the addictions and distractions that numbed me for two decades, to shed the belief that I needed to work myself to death just to be worthy of living. But eventually I did heal, and my return to nature had everything to do with it. 

We tell ourselves all kinds of things that keep us from connecting with the natural world: I don’t have the time, I don’t like the outdoors, I don’t live near nature. But connection doesn’t require any of these things. We don’t need to go into the remote wilderness to find her, because she is everywhere: a single tree, a patch of grass, a rogue dandelion growing through a crack in the sidewalk. You don’t even need to leave your house; a glance of sky through a window, a pet, a houseplant. She is always there. And even if we are bedridden in a windowless room, she is still with us. Because she is us, and we are her. There is no separation. This is what she is patiently waiting for us to remember. 

It feels as though the Earth knows me. Like we are old friends and she has seen, and accepted, and loved every part of me for eternity. When I am with her, I feel completely understood without having to speak a word. I suppose this is why I went to her when I was little and why I returned to her as an adult. It was through her support that I realized I would rather be alone than trade authenticity for acceptance. So, I began the long and still ongoing process of shedding the persona I have been wearing for a lifetime. And through this terrifying transition, she has held me. 

We are taught that nature is one thing and we are another. And that she has no value aside from what she can give us materially. She is seen as just a dead thing to take from, conquer and even fear. It is these lies that have disconnected us from her and inevitably from ourselves. It is these lies that make us forget who we are and why we are here. And for a time, I did forget.  

I became an atheist at a fairly young age. I was raised within an organized religion, but something about it never aligned with me. Even as a child, I couldn’t overlook the dark threads of control that humans had sewn into the teachings, twisting divine truth to suit their whims. Everything taught by modern society felt tainted with perversion and control, so I believed in nothing. But then, when my heart called out for me to awaken, I didn’t have anywhere to turn. So, I went to her. I watered her soil with my tears, and was gifted strength in return. I played in her waters, and she filled my heart with peace. I rested upon her mossy floor, and she took my burdens from me. She welcomed me home with open arms and reminded me that no matter how lost I feel or how solitary I may be, I am never truly alone, because she is always with me. She became my church. She made me believe in a higher power again. She healed me. And then, she became my greatest teacher. 

While the world had taught me force, Gaia taught me flow. She showed me that everything is cyclic and that I must learn to allow. I beheld her acceptance of death and learned to let go. I watched her winter, and realized that rest is holy. I witnessed her bloom and gathered the courage to do the same. I observed her creations and began my own. First, she gave me the strength to keep going, and then she showed me a new way forward. This is what she wants to do for us all.

The old ways of force are dying, and a new way is being born. But the old will not go quietly. This is why we need Gaia now more than ever. As the manufactured chaos of this world threatens to drag us into despair and keep us there, Earth offers her eternal invitation of purification, healing and remembrance. As the old ways rage, do not let your heart become hardened by fear or hatred or apathy, for this is a trap laid by expiring forces. Instead, listen to the wisdom that God and Gaia are whispering to you through your heart:

You came here for this. 

It is time.

Heal, awaken and rise. 

 The Way of Light

when the heart is heavy

weary from the pain

and you wonder, is this it

will I go insane

don’t listen to the programming

don’t listen to the fear

don’t let the darkness fool you

remember why you’re here

you came for a reason

it is something sacred

don’t let the pain claim you

and turn you into hatred

to do so is to give to it

exactly what it wants

for light cannot be channelled

through hardened hearts

so process your pain

and open up a space

that will be required

to allow in the grace

gestate your grief

and allow it to depart

then alchemize your anger

into action and art

you have to face the darkness

both within and without

shine the light upon it

and overcome the doubt

don’t let loud fear convince you

you are powerless and small

you must heal and rise above

this is God and Gaia’s call

do not become the shadow

through fear or through force

instead remember who you are

a spark of light from Source

More here:

https://laceygallant.com