In the first few days of our masters in transpersonal ecopsychology at Naropa University, our professor asked us each to recall some of our earliest memories of feeling deeply connection to/with/in the natural world. Immediately, many such experiences from childhood came to mind.

I am standing thigh deep in this tiny little creek in East Tennessee, maybe four or five years old, clothed only in overalls with rolled up legs that are now completely submerged, reaching into the murky water trying to catch crawdads. Nearby, a small bucket, something usually used to carry feed for the horses, is my collection portal. Just up the hill, across the fields and fences, my mom is riding one of her horses. Here I am, though, on my own, exploring with my sensual body the expansive iterations of this wild lifeworld.

Another bright memory of those early years is wandering out into the woods behind our home. To me, these woods were expansive, filled with mystery, and made for wandering. On any given day, I would put a fruit rollup in my pocket, maybe some goldfish, then go wandering into them. I clearly remember this one day when I found a fence that seemed unclimbable. I meandered along it for a bit, and then found a fallen tree which crossed the fence, really squashed it partway. I remember walking tilted, fallen tree, getting to the top, which was angled now over the fence, and realizing that I had no way down. Gutsy and a bit clumsy in my wildness, I thought, "I can just jump into the boughs of that pine there and it will catch me." I did, and it did, but I came out of that tangle with not less than fifty new scratches on me. Undeterred and smiling, I walked on and into the mystery.

Now, looking back, that creek and those woods were tiny wild fragments amidst a very human-impacted landscape, from property lines and fencing to highways and streets. To me, though, they were essential moments that shaped my ecological identity. Ecological unconscious (Roszak, 1992), the ecological self (Naess, 1989), and human ecological identity (Thomashow, 1996) are three critical constructs that undergird ecopsychology theory and praxis. Whereas the ecological unconscious attests to the intrinsic link between humans and the lifeworld, the ecological self refers to the (often emergent) expanded sense of identity which realigns human individuated personhood with all life (often a transpersonal experience), and the consequent ecological identity then becomes those important and meaningful stories each person has within varied settings in the wild earth (Davis & Canty, 2013, p. 601). Empirical validation of these theoretical constructs is ongoing.

Sewall (1995) summarized how time in nature can alter and reorient everyday consciousness: "Perception, consciousness, and behavior are as radically interdependent as the rest of our biosphere.  Thus, perceptual shifts alter consciousness, consciousness alters behaviors, and even unconscious leanings alter perception" (p. 203). Sometimes these immersive experiences come unexpectedly.

Immersed on a breath, the vast reefed turquoise waters spread all around me, I am freediving deep on the swell, allowing my movements to become the water, merging ubiquitously. As happens, I move laterally along the sea floor some hundred feet before again making my way toward breath. I wear only a speedo, flippers, and a mask. I am an alien, an air breather, visiting the corals and life-giving waters which made me and all my breath kin. On the way back up, some twenty feet below, I see an astounding sight: a hatch of half-inch diameter jellyfish, body to body in every direction, from me to surface. I do not have the air to swim laterally, and so as gently as I can, I allow my slight remaining buoyancy to drift me through the webwork of jelly life. Something profoundly touching happens: I am pricked---on my bald head first, then face, then shoulders and arm, chest and the rest of me as I drift upward and into the hatch---a million tiny points of light touch my naked skin, pinpricks of nematocysts. It is like rain across naked skin on a warm night, but instead of wetness, I feel slight stinging, individual points of experience across this largest organ of my bodyself. When I reach the surface, I am overwhelmed with joy and grief at this most temporal and magical of water blessings by ephyra.

I am beyond grateful for the privilege and opportunity I have had to cultivate many of these moments into my adulthood, and to have been gifted with the work as a rite of passage and wilderness immersion guide where I get to help hold the container for other humans to go and wander the magic of this more-than-human lifeworld. And I am deeply humbled and grateful for all those who keep tending my inner flame as I take the first steps onto new lands and allow the mystery of earth to enliven me.

Standing on the rear end of this small boat, I look out over the 25cm sea ice of this fjord a few hours from Longyearbyen in Svalbard. The Norwegians are unloading from boat to thin sea ice, walking to the tender to retrieve their skipulks, and beginning to get their skis on for the start of our cross-glacier, week-long ski expedition. As I watch, the wave action lifts those closest to the edge a few feet up and then down–-a mesmerizing wonder. The tail guide comes up alongside me: "Are you scared to walk onto the ice?" "Nope. Just needed to watch a few other large men walking on it first." I'm slightly laughing at the absurdity of both the truth and wildness of this reality. I look over and smile, and then take my first steps on winter's remaining gift.

What are your earliest memories of feeling deep connection to/with/in the wild earth? What are your recent memories of this? Where do you wander back to in your psyche, dreaming of some vista or moment of deep meaning?

References

Davis, J. V., & Canty, J. M. (2013). Ecopsychology and transpersonal psychology. In H. L. Friedman, & G. Hartelius (Eds.), The Wiley-Blackwell handbook of transpersonal psychology (pp. 597–611).  Wiley-Blackwell.

Naess, A. (1989). Ecology, community, and lifestyle (D. Rothenberg, Trans.). Cambridge University Press.

Roszak, T. (1992). The voice of the earth: An exploration of ecopsychology. Simon & Schuster.

Sewall, L. (1995). The skill of ecological perception.  In T. Roszak, M. E. Gomes, & A. D. Kanner, (Eds.), Ecopsychology: Restoring the earth, healing the mind (pp. 201-215). Sierra Club Books.

Thomashow, M. (1996). Ecological identity: Becoming a reflective environmentalist. MIT Press.