Natural Alignment

Using your nature journal to rewild

Earlier this week while taking out the trash I heard “skree, skree, skree” and looked up to see five birds in silhouette. Using my Sibley’s and then Merlin Bird ID I was able to identify them as two adults and three juvenile osprey! The wing span is impressive. They are so graceful when they glide.

My dearest Homo sapiens, species in the genus Homo, included in the family Hominidae, from the order of Primates, of the class Mammalia, belonging to the phylum Chordata, and part of the kingdom of Animalia,

Welcome all – new subscribers and old – to Cricklewood.

From what I’ve been reading here on Substack for the past week in Notes and from other essays on the platform I think we are longing for a sensory connection to our environment. We want to be “wild” again, and I strongly believe a nature journaling practice is a step toward that rewilding.

Rewilding is a topic unto itself, but generally, it refers to creating more biodiverse habitats by letting wildlife reestablish its natural rhythm. For the purposes of this essay, I’m applying it to humans and defining it as acknowledging our inherent connection to the natural world, because I believe that taking our place in the environmental life cycle instead of trying to bend it to our will may actually heal our disconnect (and go a long way to healing the planet). 

I wrote the following as part of a Note I posted last week:

“…we are of the elements. Our bodies share the same atoms with the Earth, Water, Air, and Fire. In many ways, we share the same biological processes. And I know from my own experience how easy it is to become disconnected from this, losing a sense of belonging to something encompassing and comfortable, if that makes any sense.

However, we can’t lose what we are, only dim the connection to it and when that happens we are untethered and fearful. Maybe this isn’t felt consciously, but it’s revealed in subtle ways, for example how easily we’re irritated by little things or how hard it is to bounce back after things go off the rails for a bit.”

As I see it, we are already wild. It’s an intrinsic part of our biology. It’s how our ancestors survived. It’s part of how everything thrives on this planet.¹ Somehow along the way, we’ve become more and more separated from nature and thus our own wildness.

We live a life of abundant convenience. Everything is practically at our fingertips – and that’s awesome – but I think we risk arrogance in how we view our position in the life cycle and ignorance of the information our environment is trying to impart. Like all animals, we were born with a sophisticated sensory system to help us navigate the world, but we aren’t always encouraged to nurture it.

We have access to knowledge beyond what the eye can see, the nose can smell, and the hand can touch. We have much more sophisticated tools than our ancestors and are in many ways better equipped. So, of course, I’m not proposing we eschew technology in favor of just relying on the signs we glean from nature. Instead, I think we should use all the resources – external and internal, technological and sensory – at our disposal.

Nature journaling can help us rewild. The very act of going into a wild space to observe with all of our senses gives us experiential knowledge. We become attuned to our immediate surroundings. I believe it’s an opportunity to recalibrate and activate the wild knowing contained in our cells. Transcribing these experiences onto the page creates a history to reference.

When we begin an entry with metadata such as date, time, temperature, weather, and other quick observations, we are compiling information and creating a log of patterns. When we record our sensory experiences in nature, we are acknowledging our wild connection and add context to the entry. When we make sketches and maps, we are seeing – sensing – our environment with openness and respect. We’re building an experiential knowledge base of nature’s stories and our part in that tale. This kinship is our rewilding.

How we do this is as simple – and as difficult – as learning to rely on the five senses: Sight, hearing, touch, taste, and smell. When we are children, we use our sensory experience easily. We take stock of our surroundings by learning what “hot, don’t touch” feels like, what thunder sounds like, what baking cookies smell like, etc. We are presented with consequences that make us either want to repeat the experience (mmmm, cookies!) or not (ouch!).

I’m offering prompts highlighting the senses to help us rewild. We’ll start with the most prominent for most people: Sight and Sound.

Prompt: Sight & Sound

While we are going to use our usual framework of observation – I Notice, I Wonder, It Reminds Me Of (go here for a refresher) – we are focusing on the connections made with “it reminds me of.”

Here’s what to do:

• Go to a spot that makes you feel very good. It can be a new spot, your usual sit spot, your backyard, etc. The only criterion is that when you are there, you feel a positive shift inside of you or ease.

• Take a moment to settle in, then record the metadata in your journal (date, time, weather, location, how you are feeling, etc).

• Now look around you and notice all the colors, shapes, plants, animals, structures, and other phenomena. Look at the land and the sky, the horizon, and what’s right next to you. Take it in as a whole, and then observe the parts that fascinate you the most. Record what you see as you will - notes, drawings, diagrams, charts, etc.

• Next, listen. What do you hear? Is it high- or low-pitched? What’s the rhythm? What direction is it coming from? Are there layers of sound? What are those layers - pitch, rhythm, natural or human? Can you pinpoint the source? Close your eyes if it helps you augment your sense of hearing. Record what you hear.

• Finally, ask yourself what all this reminds you of. Is it familiar or unfamiliar? If it’s unfamiliar, dig deeper for a connection or just make a note of this new experience so you can circle back to it later as you make connections to it in the future. Does the shape or structure of what you see remind you of something else? Same with sounds – do the sounds you hear remind you of something you’ve heard before? Can you translate it into an onomatopoeic phrase?

The Animal Planet show Meerkat Manor is a perfect example of looking at nature and forming connections through “it reminds me of” as its entire narrative was built on reminding us of our own familial and societal structures. It was wildly (see what I did here) popular because it showed us that meerkats organized themselves similarly to how we organize ourselves. We felt connected to them, and dare I say wild with them. For those of us who had never seen a meerkat before, after that show aired we are invested in their survival. (They are not extinct or endangered, by the way, but they have a very important part to play in the survival of the ecological life cycle of the African desert.)

So I wonder, if we rebalance and find our footing again as a part of the biosphere, can we become a supportive part of the ecosystem rather than a parasitic one? Making deep connections to our surroundings and rewilding on a personal level is vital to our biosphere’s survival and ultimately ours in my opinion, and I think keeping a nature journal is an individual step we can take in that collective direction.

Until next week.

xoSusannah

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Some Recent Posts I’ve Enjoyed That You May Enjoy, Too

Land's Edge

Using All The Senses

A Walk, as an Ancient Child

The Story in the Lake

The post below is very special to me, so I definitely want to share it with you.

I am the wild

1. Adaptation is another part of survival as well, and maybe in the future, we can explore that.