The natives.

We’re not talking the people sort here, as the nearest ones are about eight miles away (though they are pretty great folks indeed).

We’re talking wild stuff. Plants. Animals. That sort of thing. Those kinds of neighbors. Who and what we’re really living beside.

Slowly getting to know the wild world of which I’m becoming a part.

Having lived year round in the high country not too far away for what felt like too many years, there are so many I remember, that call to me and say, “Welcome home.” And a new few that say, “sit with me a while and see what I’m about.”

These are the voices of the land. The plants. The wilds. The wildlife.

Quiet voices.

Plants call for you to sit beside them, and listen.

I do. I stop, lean in, look and listen.

What magic or medicine to they allow?

Honestly, more often than not, I question myself, snap a photo to take back to camp and research more about them in my many books and, of course, online.

Welcome to the wild life…

Sometimes it gets you down. In spirit. In body. You get sick. Strong as I try to be, it happens. It sucks. Yet even illness carries a lesson if you’re open to learn. I’m not always. Sometimes I just want a quick fix. Get over this shit and move on.

Still, I start with the plants.

There’s a philosophy of healing I try at least to live by, coined the Wise Woman Way by the wonderful herbalist and healer Susun Weed who is one of a handful I have followed and learned from for well over thirty years of living with the land.

Start by doing nothing. Healing often just happens. Otherwise, start with the plants.

Plant medicine, herbal allies, wild wonders… just listening to and learning about the myriad of nourishment and medicine that exists in plain air of sprawling parks, or in the mysterious shade of the woods, or alongside the life vein of the land that is the creek.

So much of the healing (physically and energetically) you need is there, right there. I was going to say “for the taking.” But it’s not just “taking.” There has to be that balance of maybe asking politely, of honoring the wisdom and power within the plant, and somehow giving back in kind, to make this magic happen. I think that comes with time. Just giving time. Time to hear, to feel, to understand essence, rather than grab and go and demand. Nature’s not real big on that way.

Start simple.

Listen to the land, respect what she has to offer, and see if her healing is enough.

If so, listen to her wisdom, and bow to her in gratitude.

Plants are a starting point. Sometimes they work wonders. Sometimes, they are not enough. Absolutely at times we all know we need the big guns, and must turn towards the powerful stuff when the need arises. Gratefully and indeed there is a place for and importance of modern medicine. After a bout of cervical cancer at age 25, likely I wouldn’t be alive without it.

But as always, I try to start simple. The land offers so much of what we need.

Starting with what is right there before you. And here, there, everywhere, really, there is so much.

As for the wildlilfe… The animal side of things…

Hunters and fishermen often ask us what we live with that they can come and take.

This is what I live with. A herd of mother elk and their babies grazing on our lower meadow after the sun dips down and the evening show of rainbows and magenta and dark clouds has settled down. A little band of bull elk meandering along our driveway, as curious and fearless about our horses as they are of elk. Mama moose along the fence with a yearling calf by her side, and a young bull moose trailing behind. She watches us as much as we watch her. Only she remains while we alter our route so minimize our impact upon her. Our fences and roads, our barking dog, the roar of equipment and buzz of tools, and the sound of our somewhat soft voices –we have disturbed her enough.

I feel I have taken enough.

That’s why I rarely snap and share photos of wild four legged wonders with whom we share space. I don’t need to stalk. I don’t want to be the creepy guy. I want to be a good neighbor. I want to live and let live with the respect, safety and privacy that I love as well.

Living with the land.

We are not here to take.

This is home.

We co-exist.

At least, that’s what we strive for. We don’t always succeed. Sometimes we fuck up. I’m sorry for that. I try to better next time.

That’s what makes good neighbors. Do your best not to disturb. Give more than you take. You don’t need to assume you’re being hunted, chased, harassed and stalked. Who the hell wants to live that way?

It’s neat to me to note that, if they are not chased by swarms of tourists and a continuum of traffic, the elk and moose don’t high tail it for higher ground. They remain in this elevation all summer long. It was not this way where I used to live, where as the flood gates of people opened, the wildlife hit the trail, vanished into tall timber, and headed high. I thought that was normal and natural, but am learning it’s just what they’ve done to adapt.

I get it… I do that too.

Living on the land is living with the land.

Tending to your soul as you tend to the land.

Connecting with the land comes not only with time but with intention. A quiet, still, commitment when you begin to breathe in the land, filling your lungs, your heart, your blood; when every cell becomes filled and fulfilled with and of the place, and feel your exhale feed the land in kind.

Thus is the reminder to balance giving with taking, as the inhale and exhale harmonize.

Until next time,

With love, always love,

Gin