This week I started reading The Hidden Life of Trees by Peter Wohlleben, a former forrester in Germany who now works actively for the return of primeval forests. He writes that forests are in fact a social network supporting the sick, nourishing the young and working together to regenerate in times of devastation. They flourish in community just like humans and a tree is only as strong as the trees that surround it. Both nature and nurture are recognised as having an impact on lifespan with the ‘maternal instincts’ of mother trees playing a role in the nurturing of young trees, passing on their legacy through their fungal root connections. In our human world, it seems nature and nurture are also inextricably linked. Entangled together manifesting as our innate disposition and our inner voice, influencing our behaviour, our relationships and our longevity. We are a potent mix of our essential selves and the accumulated experience of those that have come before us. A cocktail of DNA and generations of lived experience.
Lately I’ve felt that familiar anxious feeling, the one that comes each year with the onset of spring. To hurry up and get on top of things before summer hits and you’re under siege again. The cicadas are back, baby ants are hatching and spiders are busy making their webs with increased vigour. The natural world is stirring from its winter hibernation. My home, like the forests and river valley that surround me, has its own tiny ecosystem with its own seasonal ebbs and flows. I’ve come to realise that the arrival of these little creatures is a reminder to surrender to the things I can’t control. To accept that by choosing to live within nature I must adapt to my surroundings and not the other way around. I am the introduced species here after all. I’m resisting the urge to fight this invasion because like most things in life, its about balance, finding that elusive sweet spot.
No better time than the first day of spring to write my first blog post right? Solar eclipse in Virgo, YES! Couldn’t be a more auspicious time to begin anew and trust the wisdom of the universe. But, I’ve spent all day procrastinating, fiddling with my wordpress theme and other acts of self sabotage, driven entirely by my fear of jumping into the great unknown of the blogosphere. I’ve moved countries and changed jobs, I moved HERE with much less angst but I’m finding this leap of faith particularly difficult. I’ve come to realise some of the most difficult hurdles are the ones we need to overcome in our own minds.
Welcome to my hillside perch. In 2012, our family of three made a run for it and escaped the rush of city life in search of a slower and more nourishing life on the land. I was born in the bush, came of age in the city but always felt the pull of the country. To be back in the wild, a place where our daughter could experience the freedoms that I knew as child. So here we are by a river in a lush little valley on the East Coast of NSW. And after finally coming up for air, I’ve decided to write about our unique tree change journey and what I’ve learned about myself along the way.