My relationship with the Earth
and my ecological consciousness have evolved over the years through an organic
shift toward falling in love with the Earth. Like any love affair, my
relationship with the Earth involves complicated and sometimes contradictory
feelings—love, pleasure, intimacy, guilt, and grief. What began as an awareness
of the natural world has gradually become a deeply personal and embodied
relationship with the planet that sustains me.
In most world mythologies,
including Persian mythology, the Earth is traditionally assigned a feminine
gender. My love affair with the Earth, however, goes beyond gender. Many people
who personify the Earth as a mother have found a loving way to relate to them.
I relate to the Earth as a living being with a soul, while choosing not to
assign them a gender. This allows me to experience the Earth without projecting
masculine or feminine qualities onto them.
Some argue that because the Earth
has traditionally been imagined as feminine, it has become an even greater
target of abuse under patriarchy. There may indeed be a connection between the
feminization of nature and the historical treatment of women and nature under
patriarchal systems. But the problem isn't that the Earth has been imagined as
feminine; the problem is what patriarchal cultures have historically done with
things coded as feminine. Patriarchy has often portrayed femininity as weak and
used that perception to justify domination and exploitation.
With our ecosystems in crisis, we
need to develop an emotional and embodied relationship with the Earth—one that
can change how we experience and respond to the ecological crisis. Those of us
who hear the cry of the Earth can no longer ignore the pain inflicted on the
planet by greed-driven consumerism. Given what we now know about the state of
the planet and the climate crisis, we can no longer afford to live
unconsciously. An economy based on endless expansion inevitably leads to the
depletion and degradation of the Earth’s resources.
Spiritual leaders, scientists,
and Indigenous leaders have warned us that the Earth is in peril as human
activity continues to replace the living systems that sustain us with their
destructive counterparts: fish in the oceans with plastic, rivers with toxic
waste, forests with urban development, clean air with pollution, wetlands with
concrete, and healthy ecosystems with garbage dumps.
As I mentioned, the Earth is not
a resource to be exploited but a living planet with a soul. The Earth is alive
and in need of love. We can relate to the Earth through experiences of love and
pleasure. The Earth is generous enough to allow everyone, regardless of gender,
to relate to them, love them, and experience the pleasure of their generosity.
In this way, we can allow our ecological consciousness to begin as a bodily
experience rather than as an intellectual belief.
In his lectures and books on
spiritual ecology, Sufi mystic Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee has helped me develop a
more soulful and embodied relationship with the planet. Inspired by Thich Nhat
Hanh, as well as by my reading of Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee and Hillary Hart’s Spiritual
Ecology: 10 Practices to Reawaken the Sacred in Everyday Life, I have allowed
myself to experience the Earth more deeply through my senses. For example,
during my afternoon walks, I walk as if I am kissing the Earth with my feet.
The intimacy of sensing the Earth and feeling supported by them feels like a
form of lovemaking that goes beyond the ordinary understanding of erotic
experience.
Sometimes, as I walk, I enter
into a quiet dialogue with the Earth and recite these words:
“Dear Earth, your gravity holds
my body close to you, and your generosity sustains me each day. I love you, and
my life is inseparable from yours.”
Breath and love create a powerful
meeting between my inner world and the outer world—the love I carry in my heart
and the air offered to me by the Earth. Consciously breathing in the air that
the planet offers me while feeling love for the Earth creates a deep sense of
intimacy and connection. This practice also helps me feel more settled and
grounded in my body, supporting a greater sense of nervous-system regulation.
There is something magical about a breath that flows through a settled body.
When infused with love and compassion for the Earth, each breath becomes a
bridge between my inner and outer worlds, carrying healing energy from within
me into my relationship with the world around me. I believe that by going
within and practicing meditation with the soul of the planet in our hearts, we
can awaken a healing energy capable of loving the Earth back to health.
One of the most pleasurable
experiences I have ever had in my relationship with the Earth is connected to
the Caspian Sea. Its beaches were my childhood playground, and the child in me
still feels a deep and special connection to them. As a child, I played freely
along the shore, where the sand, water, and open space offered endless
possibilities for imaginative play. There was something magical about digging
into the sand and creating all kinds of things. Sometimes, I would build a
mountain out of wet sand and then cover it with dry, white sand, pretending I
had created a snow-covered mountain. When I felt ready to leave my creations
behind, I would run toward the sea and body surf. I can still remember the cool
sensation of the seawater against my body and the deep sense of refreshment it
brought me.
I am painfully aware that the
Caspian Sea is being threatened by climate change. It is the largest inland
body of water on the planet, and its future is uncertain. This reality often
triggers my ecological grief, which I experience deeply in my body. Sometimes,
it shows up as a heartache in my chest; other times, it comes as tears. The
remedy for this grief, I have found, is not to resist it but to allow myself to
feel it and to share it with others who can understand and hold that grief with
me.
I also struggle with eco-guilt.
Every bottle of water I consume and every drop of gasoline I put into my car
can become a source of guilt. Yet I don't believe that the burden of ecological
guilt should fall primarily on individuals who are simply trying to live their
lives. The major polluters—the corporations that profit from fossil fuels and
other forms of environmental destruction—bear a far greater responsibility for
the ecocide taking place on our planet. I have found that the antidote to my
eco-guilt is to remember where the greater responsibility lies. Rather than
allowing guilt to consume me, I remind myself that my role is to do what I can
to love the Earth back to health.
As an exiled immigrant and a gay
man of color who once experienced the United States as a safe refuge, I now
recognize something important that I share with the Earth: The Earth, too, is
seeking refuge from the threats it faces. When I feel overwhelmed by xenophobia
or by the uncertain future of queer rights, I go to Will Rogers State Beach in
Pacific Palisades. There, the sound of the ocean waves reminds me that I am
loved by the Earth. The cool air against my skin feels like a kiss from them.
In return, I hold the Earth in my heart and quietly whisper, “I love you, my
Beloved Earth.”
My only offering to the Earth is
the love I carry in my heart, together with my commitment to remind anyone I
can reach not to forget the Earth. In moments when I feel threatened or
displaced, my relationship with the Earth reminds me that I belong somewhere—and
that the Earth, too, deserves to belong to itself, free from exploitation and
destruction.
Finally, the longest and most
enduring relationship is perhaps the love affair between the Earth and the Sun.
The planet seems to say to the Sun, “I love you, and I need you,” and the Sun
keeps giving. In the words attributed to the Sufi poet Hafiz, “Even after all
this time the Sun never tells the Earth, ‘You owe me.’” Such a loving
connection “lights up the whole sky.”
Similarly, in my relationship
with the Earth, I have always felt a level of generosity that words cannot
describe. I have received countless gifts from them, and each one reminds me of
how deeply the Earth sustains me. Each time I taste the sweetness of a
strawberry or feel the warmth of sunlight on my skin, I am reminded of this
generosity.
Thank you, Earth!
© Payam
Ghassemlou, MFT, Ph.D., SEP, is a psychotherapist (www.DrPayam.com), Somatic Experiencing Practitioner
(www.SomaticAliveness.com), writer (https://www.drpayam.com/articles_and_book) ,and artist (https://SomaticAlivenessArt.etsy.com)
Licensed
Marriage and Family Therapist online anywhere in CA, OR & FL.
