Remembering who we truly are

Reflections from Aarti from YA Team on holding Council of all beings at Earth Shastra

A few years ago, when I joined Youth Alliance, we had an activity in one of the programs named Earth Shastra, a program focused on the connection between ecology and economy. During that activity, we were told to choose a tree from the forest that “called to us,” spend time with it, and share — at intervals — what we said and what the tree “replied.” Honestly, the whole thing felt a bit pretentious and made me uncomfortable. It felt like a gimmick to me. I noticed that what people shared as messages from the tree often sounded like things they wanted to tell to themselves. For example, if someone said the tree told them, “You are brave,” I could see that they were already showing courage in their personal life — it was really their own message reflected back through the tree.

Looking back now, I realize part of my discomfort came from how foreign the idea of “connection with nature” felt to me at the time. One of the central themes of Earth Shastra was exactly that - reconnecting with the more than human world - but four years ago, that idea seemed distant and unfamiliar. I was so absorbed in the human story - our achievements, our struggles, our supposed importance - that I couldn’t see beyond it. Even the phrase itself felt strange, almost unnatural. I remember wondering why we should even talk about other beings or nature at all. I was like a fish asking, “Where is the water?”

But those very doubts became the starting point of a slow shift. Back then, I had many questions, yet over the years - by participating in the program and eventually leading it - something in me began to open. I not only came to understand the importance of the rest of nature; I also started to feel connected to it. My idea of “nature” expanded, softened, and deepened. I realized that I am part of nature, not separate from it.

That growing sense of connection set the stage for everything that followed. It’s been almost four years since that first experience, and in that time I’ve had the opportunity to both participate in and facilitate several nature-connection sessions, drawing inspiration from many sources and people. But what truly moved me - what gave language and direction to what I was slowly awakening to - was the work of Joanna Macy. Her practices - including Milling, The Council of All Beings, The Spiral of Active Hope, and other simple exercises for self-awareness and connection - deeply touched and transformed me.

One of the practices that left the strongest impression on me was Milling. The first time I experienced it, I was completely out of my comfort zone. I’m someone who tends to live in my head — guided by logic and reason - so being asked to move my body freely, to look into another person’s eyes, and simply be present felt unsettling. How tragic that something as simple and human as eye contact felt unnatural to me then. As I held another participant’s hand, I initially didn’t even want to look at them - and it wasn’t just physical discomfort; it was something deeper. But when I finally lifted my eyes to meet theirs, something shifted. In that moment, with a few blinks and almost a tear, it felt as though I was holding hands with another version of myself. None of my logic could explain what I experienced that day - the power of being fully present, intentionally holding someone’s hands, looking into their eyes, and truly acknowledging their presence.

That moment made me realize that my body understands things my mind cannot always grasp right away. It listens, feels, and connects - recognizing another human as part of itself.

So when I first heard about another practice by Joanna Macy - The Council of All Beings - I approached it with a different kind of openness. I still didn’t fully know what to expect. The idea of speaking on behalf of other beings - trees, rivers, animals - felt mysterious and a little strange, almost like stepping into an unfamiliar language. But as I prepared to walk toward the council, something inside me began to stir. I felt a strong sense of responsibility, as if I was carrying not only my own story but also the voices of many beings who share this Earth with us. A shiver ran down my spine. In that moment, I sensed that this wasn’t just another activity - it was an invitation to see the world differently, to imagine that we could help create a new story for our shared future.

That invitation opened something profound in me. This practice changed me more than any other. As I took part as one of the beings, I chose to embody the cow — perhaps because her suffering is the kind I have witnessed most closely. At the time, I didn’t fully understand why I chose her, but now I see it wasn’t a coincidence. When I began to speak as the cow, something deep shifted inside me. The words that came weren’t just thoughts - they carried real pain, the pain of so many beings whose voices are never heard. It wasn’t about pretending anymore. It was about feeling - truly feeling - the life and sorrow of another being as my own.

That feeling deepened as the council unfolded. I remember that particular gathering vividly. Facilitating the experience, I was walking at the front of the group, carrying a small instrument that made a steady, tribal rhythm - a sound that felt ancient and connected to the Earth. As I decided to walk toward the council of beings, I felt a deep sense of responsibility - the responsibility of embodying who I am, of sharing from their perspective, and of listening to other beings. A shiver ran down my spine and throat, as if I was holding both the power and the duty to change reality - to take charge and to write a new story.

A few friends (humans) had gone ahead to prepare the fire. Later, one of them shared that as we approached, he suddenly felt afraid, as if he had unknowingly done something wrong. Hearing that made me realize the weight of what we were carrying - the collective emotion, the unheard voices, the grief - powerful enough to stir something deep even in those witnessing from the outside.

As I spoke in the council, I felt that weight more clearly - the grief, the longing, the ache of beings who have been ignored. And as I listened, another feeling rose within me: a quiet, ancient anger. It seemed directed at humans, yet it wasn’t personal; it was larger than any single individual. The anger pulsed through me like the Earth’s own heartbeat - the anger of centuries, of forests cut down, rivers poisoned, and beings silenced. It was the anger born of forgetting - forgetting our place in the great circle of life, forgetting that we all breathe the same air and are rooted in the same soil.

That realization didn’t leave me when the council ended. It stayed with me, reshaping how I understood my relationship with the Earth. Through this experience, I’ve come to see that reconnecting with the Earth isn’t just about caring for nature. It’s about remembering who we really are - not separate, but part of one living whole.

This understanding was and has become more central to our program as well. When we talk about development, we explore how human progress has often come at the cost of the rest of nature. We invite people to shift their perspective - to see nature not as a commodity, but as a companion, as family, as fellow beings sharing this Earth with us.

We hold close a simple belief:
“We protect what we love.
We love what we understand.
We understand what we spend time with.”

Joanna Macy’s work has helped us live this truth — to spend time with nature and with ourselves, to remember who we really are.

Through these experiences, I’ve realized that not everything in life is meant to be understood by the mind. Some truths are too old, too wide, too deep for logic. They must be felt — in the body, in the tremble of the chest, in the tears that come without reason.

Standing there, surrounded by others who were also feeling deeply, I sensed something ancient awakening within me. My body remembered what my mind had long forgotten — that I am part of this living Earth, and she is part of me.

Now, when I walk among trees, I no longer see them as silent or still. I see them as my elders — my ancestors — carrying memories older than human thought. Their roots remind me of the invisible threads that connect us all, and their quiet presence teaches me to listen without needing to explain.

Through this work, I’ve come to see that reconnecting with the Earth is not just about protecting nature - it’s about remembering. Remembering that we are not separate, but part of it.

“We are the Earth walking on the Earth”

In closing, I feel a deep sense of gratitude as I acknowledge that this year we lost Joanna Macy — a woman whose vision, wisdom and compassion shaped not only my own journey, but that of countless others around the world. I remain deeply grateful for the way her work opened my heart. Grounded in the understanding that we are not separate individuals but part of a living, interconnected web of beings, her teachings reshaped how I see my place in the world. Through The Work That Reconnects and her weaving of ecological insight with spiritual depth, she offered a way to hold grief for the world’s suffering without turning away - transforming despair into fierce love, compassion, and meaningful action.

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Aarti holds Earth Shastra and some other team proecesses at Youth Alliance. Her style of leadership brings lots of openness, makes people feel enough, allows space for mistakes and discovery.