This is a blog about nature.
This is also a blog about grief.
To feel alive, we must know grief.
And to know grief we must know nature. For she experiences grief daily. Every time the sun sets, and the moon rises, when animals and plants return to the soil, and life and love begin again.
Within my writing, I will talk a lot about cycles, from a biological, psychological, and spiritual perspective. It’ll touch upon pagan rituals that celebrate the wheel of the year, the ever-growing research body on the role of cycles in our psychology, and what it means to consciously live within the turn of the seasons. From learning how to grow my own food, to tracing my ancestry and sharing the wisdom of other writers and researchers on what it feels like to exist in natures rhythm. Although it may seem like the writings are varied, what underpins everything is the pull of nature, and a wish to live each day more present and more connected.
So why this and why now? About a year ago, I found an old picture of myself. It was my 6th birthday. I was surrounded by cards and faded patterned sofas from an early nineties living room, and I thought, look at her. She is so alive.
At the time, I was feeling lost in my 9-5 job. Restless. Empty. I wanted to feel alive again. I wanted to get back to joy. Excitement. Feeling like the whole world sparkled.
6-year-old Anna was a lover of wildlife. Think Russell in Up. I was a true Wilderness Explorer.
One of my earliest memories was building homes in jars for ladybirds, and nests for the garden birds from the lawn cuttings and twigs. My dad would regularly bring home injured animals he’d found in the fields, or roads near our house. Sometimes it was a rescue mission to save an animal from the clutches of the cat. Blackbirds who had lost half their feathers, voles, and dormice, who’s breathing had been quickened with the fright. All were slowly nursed back to health with the help of my dad and his nursing bottles. Of course not every rescue was successful, but even if they passed on, dad would honour their passing, finding a special spot in the garden to bury them. At the weekends, we’d jump on the train armed with our RSPB backpacks, binoculars, and sandwiches, ready to explore the wilds of the Kent countryside.
With the passage of time, and the whirlwind of adolescence this slowly disappeared. 6-year-old me was still there but her light had dimmed. Although I still studied Biology at university and eventually became a researcher in environmental change ecology, with age, the magic slowly seeped out of me. Perhaps it was the allure of big cities, or the reality of adulthood but I slowly shifted away from the wild that I loved. Dipping my toe back in the water became a habit, but it became almost a fear. I sometimes wonder now whether it was a fear of stepping into the totality of who I was, because when you do that…..what then?
On May 19th this year, my dad was diagnosed with leukaemia.
It was like, for a second, the universe opened the curtain and allowed me a peak inside.
It was almost as if I was seeing my past, present and future. When people say they feel their life flash before their eyes, I understand. It couldn’t have been more than 3 seconds. But I knew.
It felt like a message.
A lost connection.
A returning home.
She was there. 6-year-old Anna. Staring back at me. With joy. Sadness. Confusion.
So here I am. On a journey of rediscovery back to myself. Through nature.
I’m currently retraining as a psychologist through the University of Exeter, pulling together my yoga training, teachings from mentors on paganism, and the cycle of time, reading and exploring endlessly the wild I used to love. I have realised my passion is biological psychology. Understanding how the changing environment impacts on our physiology and how we perceive the world. Why do we feel more at ease in nature? What is the impact of being so separated from life’s cycles? What would it feel like to live in complete harmony with our biology?
Perhaps I am doing this because I am already grieving. Grieving what is to come. Grieving time lost. With a knowing that a cycle is coming to an end, there is almost a desperation to understand how to become more connected, to find the magic, the knowing that when a body leaves this realm it never is truly lost.
What is true is that as humans we remove ourselves from life’s cyclic nature only to feel even more disconnected and more floored when a cycle ends.
We are born into a world, where the natural world is teaching us the lessons of life, yet we search for those lessons elsewhere.
What would a world look like where we listen to the innate wisdom of the Earth? This is what I hope to find. I believe that within us there is a need to feel connected. At the same time, I think we have a deep fear of what it would be like to be part of something bigger.
I also believe that we want to find magic. And as we grow older, magic is drilled out of us. We are told it’s a concept to be laughed at and not believed in. A further myth to keep us disconnected from the Earth on which we live.
So, yes this is a blog about nature.
And yes, it is also a blog about grief.
But it is also about magic.
And connection.
And being part of something bigger.
Journey with me. Let’s see what we can find.
With love,
Anna xx
Richmond Park, 30/01/2022, taken by Anna.
If my mum’s cancer diagnosis in May 2023 (snap 😞) taught me is, time is precious, nothing is guaranteed.
Right now we are in this sweet stage of no information. We are waiting for the next scan. Her first round of chemo is done and we just wait, pretending like things are somewhat back to normal, but they’re not. xx
Thank you so much and I yours ❤️🙏🏼