Rewilding in Lockdown

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One of the best things about rewilding the garden is the way it keeps surprising me.

Clumps of lemonbalm and fennel have self-seeded among the ferns, possibly from a teabag in the compost. Last year’s wildflower patch didn’t work too well (too shady, planted too late) but is now full of ox-eye daisies, red campion, honesty, poppies and bright pops of orange calendula. The overgrown lawn is rich with dandelions and clovers, alive with bumblebees, birds, butterflies, hoverflies and dragonflies.

Seeds are silently growing everywhere, flowers, herbs and vegetables shooting upwards in that mad rush of May green, but it’s the wild, neglected parts of the garden I love the most: the left-alone corners bursting with nettles, cleavers, dandelion and dead nettle to nourish and cleanse, ground ivy and forget-me-nots to provide food and shelter for the tiny creatures, herb robert, vetch and sweet honeysuckle to lift our spirits. Wild medicine for the soul!

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During isolation the garden has become classroom, kitchen, church and living room. It is teacher, friend, and wise old woman. We’ve spent our days there, watching the spring unfold, finding bugs, having bonfires, learning about plants, digging, playing and generally letting them be crazy, grubby little kids while the world has turned upside down. We’ve put a rope swing up in the field. There are few sights better than watching the children trot off through the long grasses, buttercups up to their waists.

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Who knows where we’re heading; it’s not really for me to say. But in the uncertainty, there is space for hope. I can’t change the world, but I can raise my children, grow a garden, make it a place of peace, a love letter to the earth. I can keep writing in the interrupted snatches of time available, cultivate gratitude, go gently, fail utterly and start all over again the next day. For now, that’s enough.

In the sweet-smelling promise of a May morning, the field is soaked in golden sunshine, hawthorn blossom filtering down like snow. The garden is lush, green and alive, vibrating with wild magic.

Perhaps in all this chaos, a beautiful future is trying to grow.

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Rewild Yourself

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“May you live every day of your life.” – Jonathan Swift

 

There are places in you

Where thousands of bright, tiny flowers

Open each morning to the sun

In meadows as vast as the sky.

 

An ancient alchemy courses through your bones.

It speaks in feathers and stones and

precious metals and the footprints of mandalas

left by the stories we tell with our lives.

Rewild yourself.

Until green tendrils sprout from your fingernails

And lichen swathes your eyebrows.

Rewild yourself.

Until your roots spread and uncoil and

Writhe down through soil and rock.

Rewild yourself.

Rise up into your magnificence and

Take your place among the constellations.

Rewild yourself.

The Earth is her own medicine.

Be yours.

 

“Within every woman there is a wild and natural creature, a powerful force, filled with good instincts, passionate creativity, and ageless knowing. Her name is Wild Woman, but she is an endangered species.” ~ Clarissa Pinkola Estes

Sometimes the chaos, noise and haste of the human world make me long for the solace and wild spirit of nature.

I long to sleep out beneath a wheel of stars in the enchanted desert night; to walk in a verdant forest where wild creatures roam.

I hunger for real darkness, for wilderness, for lost horizons, and for the mystery, wisdom, perspective, freedom and beauty that only the natural world offers.

I long to…

“… come into the peace of wild things.” ~ Wendell Berry

I have recently been inspired by movements such as Rewilding Britain, and TreeSisters.

These collectives, and many more like them, are working to re-establish wild spaces in nature, planting trees, re-introducing indigenous species, restoring broken ecological relationships, repairing the Great Self to wholeness.

Some call this the Great Work of our times.

“Rewilding offers hope. It offers the hope of recovery, of the enhancement of wonder and enchantment and delight in world that often seems crushingly bleak… It offers us a chance to replace our silent spring with a raucous summer.”

~ George Monbiot, A Manifesto for Rewilding the World

We can all outwardly play our part in this positive story by striving towards a more harmonious, integral relationship with the natural world. But rewilding is a process which begins inside.

Rewilding is a spiritual attendance to the interconnectedness of all life, which transcends separation and fragmented notions of us/them and humanity/nature.

Desert, forest, mountain, grassland and ocean — the archetypal wildlands or Soulscapes of Mary Reynold Thompson’s deeply insightful book on spiritual ecology Reclaiming the Wild Soul — are places within all of us.

Through slowing down, listening, opening, surrendering, connecting, being and asking what really matters, we can access these places in deep and profound ways, giving rise to great journeys of the soul and enabling bold leaps of creativity, compassion and courage.

“Spend time out of doors, praise the earth, love the wild migrations of your own imagination, and be grateful for every leaf you meet. In this way, you will inevitably become part of the great rewilding of our world.”

~ Mary Reynolds Thompson

In doing this, we may reclaim the wild through our own psyches. We may become wildflowers in the wasteland. We may come fully into our power, and realize our potential to be the medicine the world needs.

Put simply, what we do to the planet, we do to ourselves, and vice versa.

“Let the great rewilding of the world begin with you. Let yourself be absorbed into something larger and less tame than your isolated self.” ~ Lorraine Anderson

 

 

First published at http://www.rebellesociety.com/2016/02/03/carolinemellor-rewild/