I grew up in the woods—hunting, trapping, and, for a time, living in a camper (a story for another day). As I got older, the woods became a playground where we’d ride our three-wheelers until we got lost, only to find ourselves again in the process.
Now, as an adult, I return to the woods not just to explore, but to heal—to come home to myself. In the woods, there is magic. The trees whisper to one another through the mycorrhizal network beneath the soil. Animals watch from the shadows, their presence felt more than seen. Snow glitters like stardust, the air hums with stillness, and every step holds the promise of something new. It’s a place of potential, of shared adventure, where every visitor leaves a mark and takes a lesson in return.
Lately, I’ve felt the pull to spend more time in the forest. To listen to the wisdom of the trees. To deepen my connection with Mother Earth, the eternal teacher. She offers creativity, unconditional love, perseverance, and joy. Every day, I turn to her in gratitude for the land beneath my feet, the sacred ground that holds me. I invite her energy into my space, asking her to shield me from anything that doesn’t serve my highest good.
Working with this archetypal energy is a daily practice. Walking among the trees, I pause to thank her for her beauty. I draw her energy up through the soles of my feet, letting it ground and anchor me. With that energy, I clear anything heavy or misaligned, allowing her nurturing essence to flow freely within me.
But the Earth Keeper’s wisdom also calls us to something deeper. Beyond gratitude and connection, it is a wisdom of courage—of resilience and trust in life’s cycles. The forest reminds us of the quiet bravery it takes to grow, to adapt, and to let go.
Consider the trees: they stand rooted through storms, leaning into winds that bend but don’t break them. They shed their leaves in the fall, trusting the cycle of death and rebirth. They reach toward the light, even in the shadows, finding ways to thrive in challenging conditions. The forest teaches us that courage isn’t loud or forceful—it’s the quiet strength of standing tall through life’s storms, growing toward the light despite the darkness, and releasing what no longer serves us, trusting that something new will emerge in its place.
One book that’s stayed with me is Finding the Mother Tree by Suzanne Simard. There’s a part I think of often: when a mother tree dies, she releases her carbon and nutrients, not just to her offspring but to the entire surrounding community. She knows her children’s survival depends on the health of the whole forest. Her gift is one of selflessness and foresight, a reminder that individual flourishing is deeply tied to collective well-being.
The Earth Keeper’s wisdom is a call to embody this courage in our own lives. To honor the cycles. To face challenges with grace. To root ourselves deeply in the present, knowing we are held by something greater. This is not only the path of the Earth—it is the path of the heart.