Have you ever really looked at your relationships?

Many are too caught up in the daily grind of life to seriously look at what keeps them going with that “other.” It’s only during intense moments of life that we shift our attention to that which we care most about, and on what or who we are anchored.

I believe the pandemic was the major global event that shifted us all to check everything in our lives — relationships, most especially.

I am writing this since work has been keeping me in the city even during the past weekends. And I am soooo missing Nature. Yes, your read it right: missing Nature with an intensity I cannot explain.

I then started to reflect on what pushed me to Nature.

It is a relationship because whenever I cannot go near Nature, something inside me longs, cries out, wants to be surrounded by earth, sky, water or anything remotely connected to Her. It is an overwhelming, almost physical connection I have – not some mind idea, but an actual visceral bond.

Dare I say, an aching devotion?

I almost feel “weird” writing this article. But this love for nature is like feeling a lover, with a quiet love…a yearning or ache that settles deep within me when I see ancient Balete trees; breathe in the sharp air of pine or salt, or feel the raw power of the fierce storm, the holiness of the mountain in stillness, even the wet soil holding the birthing of seedlings I have planted.

My heart skips beats when I see reflections of light on tips of leaves, or sunsets and sunrises so sublime. And the stars against the velvet cosmos, they stir that deep existential longing.

This is a call that demands attention, doubly nudging me to action or reflection. That outward pull is that desperate need to do something environmentally sound to help protect its fragile and enduring beauty.

My heart breaks when I see oil spills, our seas choking on plastic garbage galore, forests falling silently disappearing, jeeps and trucks spewing off black smoke.

I remember breaking into tears when I saw once-beautiful waterfalls in a rainforest gone. All around were ugly pipes and tubes siphoning all the water for consumption. I wept for the beauty of that waterfall memory. It was like crying for the innocence of a young girl who had been violated.

It gets worst when I flip through social media and see the brutal large-scale, global environmental rape. Mother Earth stripped bared by relentless machinery of profit and power. How can we call this progress? This is violation.

There is spirit in Nature. And we have been killing it. Just like so many things in the world where spirit resides, we have been killing mountains with mining, seas with pollution, forests flattened.

We are stewards of the planet, not masters. When will we see that this planet it not a resource but a living being? I think this is the crux of the matter. Until we know Mother Earth, Gaia, is a living spirit, then we will never have a relationship with her. We will not feel her. We will not love her. And yet she continues to provide and nourish us.

I remember my sisters kidding me that I seem to embrace so many advocacies: from slow food, slow travel, slow fashion, to permaculture and organic farming, to save the seas, protect the forests and wildlife, hug a tree, prevent plastic pollution, conserve coral reefs and mangroves, ban harmful chemicals and single use plastics, re-use, recycle, go zero waste, package sustainably, conserve water, build green spaces, etc. I can go on. You see, it’s all about this love relationship I have. And when you love someone, or something, you will go all out to help, nurture and protect it.

Sometimes when I attempt to work on my slow food garden in Mount Banahaw, I think of how small I am with this small patch of land. But this relationship makes me make a stand into direct action. In this little spot, I defend the soil to defend the bedrock of environmental sustainability, biodiversity conservation, climate action, food production. Through this, I stand with many people like me aligned with the advocacy of Slow Food that promotes locally grown and traditional food, emphasizing environmental responsibility, fair labor while preserving cultural heritage.

When I pick up plastic garbage at the Ligtasin beach front in Batangas, or choose to buy that upcycled bag made from old fishnets, I take symbolic steps aligned with bigger groups globally that focus on reducing plastic waste and promoting sustainable alternatives. And I have plugged into movements that support policies and clean-up efforts plus responsible consumer behavior to protect our oceans.

When I make that product purchase, I do so conscious of this relationship and love I keep nurturing. This little patch of farm, this little corner of the beach I choose to act on is my space to show my love for Nature and how I choose to live with her. And I know our tribe is truly increasing.

There are more and more people awakening to this love relationship. We all do so through the little acts of daily life that bring green awareness to our actions both personal and collaborative.

There really is no other direction but to fall in love with Mother Earth now, where we are in our spaces of power and influence, in our personal space of choice, to do what we can to protect and nurture this relationship. And not to tame and use her.

While we may be very late in the game, in this most intense time of climate change crisis, we must look to Nature and fall deeply in love again. Because to love Nature is not to stand apart from her but to remember that we are never separate at all.