It’s been one of the snowier winters up here that I can remember in recent years. It’s kind of thrilling. There have been so many winters when snow is slow to arrive, or only stays ephemerally, and those are the winters that can be especially hard to get through—it feels like the darkness seeps into the ground, making it even colder and dark— as if hollowed out, exposed with no benefit of reflected light off a ground covered in snow. By this time of year, the snow that arrives feels full of light—the brightness reflected through the house, finally after the darkness of November-December-January.
dear freya, hoping to send you feedbacks and comments, I still keep on reading you, I ve got plenty of troubles affecting my pleausure to write and read..however it 's my intention to reorder my soul and mind to start writing again....how many things I could say about this matter..SNOW amd LIfe!..hold on Freya..,expecting a new life!!!!
"am I culture within doors, nature without?" - this line is sheer flow of your being. It speaks of the oneness of your consciousness with your environment. When you write about Alaska, you write with awe arising from an inner place of deep now. You write from your inner truth and immediate knowing. Although I have never been to your beautiful state, I feel homesick for it when I read your newsletters. In fact the first time I learned about Alaska was through McCandless's story. Thank you for bringing into my consciousness this beautiful meditative piece.
Never stop writing about your home. It doesn't limit you as a nature writer. There is a sentimental authenticity in your experiential narratives. I love that about your newsletter.
This is gorgeous and so much what I have been thinking about lately. It speaks to not only this false idea of rugged self-reliance, but also the utter necessity to decolonize conservation. Because organizations and people dedicated to protecting wildlife are constantly talking of places like Yellowstone, for example, and how it has all the large mammals that were always there and how their survival demands vigilance ... but leaves out the little detail that Indigenous people aren't there anymore. The land laments our absence! These connections are critical and I can't stop thinking about them. Thank you for writing about this, and so beautifully. I am grateful and less lonely for your perspective.
dear freya, hoping to send you feedbacks and comments, I still keep on reading you, I ve got plenty of troubles affecting my pleausure to write and read..however it 's my intention to reorder my soul and mind to start writing again....how many things I could say about this matter..SNOW amd LIfe!..hold on Freya..,expecting a new life!!!!
"am I culture within doors, nature without?" - this line is sheer flow of your being. It speaks of the oneness of your consciousness with your environment. When you write about Alaska, you write with awe arising from an inner place of deep now. You write from your inner truth and immediate knowing. Although I have never been to your beautiful state, I feel homesick for it when I read your newsletters. In fact the first time I learned about Alaska was through McCandless's story. Thank you for bringing into my consciousness this beautiful meditative piece.
Never stop writing about your home. It doesn't limit you as a nature writer. There is a sentimental authenticity in your experiential narratives. I love that about your newsletter.
This is gorgeous and so much what I have been thinking about lately. It speaks to not only this false idea of rugged self-reliance, but also the utter necessity to decolonize conservation. Because organizations and people dedicated to protecting wildlife are constantly talking of places like Yellowstone, for example, and how it has all the large mammals that were always there and how their survival demands vigilance ... but leaves out the little detail that Indigenous people aren't there anymore. The land laments our absence! These connections are critical and I can't stop thinking about them. Thank you for writing about this, and so beautifully. I am grateful and less lonely for your perspective.