Belated Birthday Reflections

Journal entries from August 24th

I was born in late summer, a time of ripening fruit and waning light. Before song birds migrate and the land sounds lonelier. Before flowers turn to seed and maple leaves turn to colors of fire and fall. The pivot point toward autumn always makes me feel swollen with feeling; it is my favorite time of year.

Photo by Ava Tyler on Unsplash

Today is August 24th¹, it is 7am, and I’m 50 years old. Well, technically, I’m still 49. I turn 50 at about 6:30pm. Hopefully, I’m just halfway there.

I had strange dreams and was grinding my teeth last night as I often do (note to self: remember your skullcap tincture!). The dreams didn’t stick to my consciousness when I woke but I know I was problem solving. I often dream of ways to halt human destruction of Earth and wake with a deep ache. Wishing the destruction of wild beauty was just a nightmare, just a dream.

Upon wishing me a Happy Birthday some women have said, “I look forward to turning 50. I hear that as you get older you give less fucks.” I wish that were true. I feel so deeply and give so many fucks. It may be safe to say I even care more. But I do feel a deeper level of contentment. Less inner turmoil and what I care most about is outside of myself. That doesn’t mean I don’t love myself, I do. But as an herbalist, for example, I care less about what the plants can do for me and more about what I can do for the plants.

I’m excited to go outside and walk amongst fields of goldenrod this morning. I wonder if goldenrod is one of my favorite flowers because it is among the first I would have seen. Goldenrod must have greeted me as I traveled home from the hospital to the rural landscape of Western Massachusetts where I was born. Goldenrod is probably the wildflower I’ve seen more than any other.

Here in Western Massachusetts I also share land with foxes, black bear, coyotes, deer, song birds like the wood thrush and raptors like the red tailed Hawk. I share the land with rusty patched bumblebees, an endangered species due to fragmented landscapes… and countless insects like crickets and katydids who sing me to sleep at night. There are species like wolves that are absent but who once called this land home. Their absence is a haunting vacancy, an upset of balance that every species feels - and somewhere inside - knows. We need to become reacquainted with our local landscapes so we know who is there (plant, fungi, animal, insect). If we don’t, how will we know when they’re missing? 

Reflecting on the arc of my life so far, I feel grateful. But it’s strange that much life lately has been devoted to loving land and trying to convince other humans to love land and other animals, too. Stewarding, protecting and restoring land where other species live feels like some of the most important work all of us can do now. Not just for the plants and other animals that live there but for ourselves. We need them, too. Without them it will be a lonely world and hard to breathe. 

I am 50 now. Half of a century has gone by. I’ve chosen not to have children which means the line of my ancestors (I have siblings, but am the only child between my mother and father) stops with me. Now, with an amazing partner, sometimes I wish we had kids but I am at peace with my decision. I chose not to have children because I felt more compelled to care for plants, other animals, Mother Earth, and humans who are already here. Some people have said “it’s a shame you never had kids. We need more Earth warriors in the world.” But there is no guarantee that a child will want to live the same way and I would never want to force them to.

Getting older means those we love are getting older, too. One of the worst parts about being human (besides being a member of an incessantly hungry species, causing Earth to suffer) is knowing we are going to die one day, that we are going to lose people we love and that we don’t know when or how any of it is going to happen. It can be incredibly difficult to stay present with that knowledge. The challenge is time. How to spend this precious time we have with deep love, the notion of loss and death and the need for solitude? A writer and introvert, I love deeply but also need more solitude than most. 

The more I live and the more time I spend with nature, the less I believe my soul will go on. I certainly don’t believe I’m somehow divine, somehow above other animals. It is more than enough to be an animal like wolves and other primates and I am committed to cherishing this mysterious life while I have it.

Like the ripening fruit of late summer, I wish we humans could do the same at this poignant time of year. Wind down, submit to our heaviness, and integrate our experiences like seeds do. Settle down and rest more while caring for the wild creatures who are busy foraging and getting ready for long journeys and long winter sleeps.  

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1. The following paragraphs are reflections pulled from my journal on my birthday