I have been exploring the concept of “intimacy.” What does intimacy with myself mean? What does intimacy with the land feel and look like?

The definition of intimacy from Dictionary.com is: a close, familiar, and usually affectionate or loving personal relationship with another person or group built over time, or a close association with or detailed knowledge or deep understanding of a place.

In contemplating intimacy with the land and with myself, I love walking down the creek to sit and immerse myself in the beauty around me.

Overtime, I began to feel called to meet the Earth with my bare skin —to experience this place without the layers between my body and the natural world. The experience of being naked in nature is about being present. About feeling the air, sunlight, earth and water directly against my skin. About allowing myself to soften enough to simply belong here.

Sitting in silence and being present with everything around me, I feel connected with the land—in solitude, yet connected. There is a subtle sense of peace, calmness, and quiet stillness within me. My body relaxes as I witness the nature around me, and I feel as though it is witnessing me too.

I become part of the landscape, part of nature.

The land receives me as I am—vulnerable and open.

Meeting the land with my bare skin helps me attune to my surroundings and to the rhythm of nature. In doing so, I also find myself moving toward a deeper acceptance of my own body and being—meeting myself with less judgement and more tenderness. It’s part of the journey of reclaiming my voice.

As I shared in my recent Awaken & Reclaim Your Voice workshop, when we begin to awaken and reclaim our voice, we also begin to reclaim the parts of ourselves that were silenced, hidden or judged. To me, that includes reclaiming my body and my creative expression.

Through experiencing intimacy with myself and with the land, perhaps intimacy is allowing ourselves to be fully present with what is, without needing to hide, change, or become anything else. To just be ourselves.

Each time I visit the creek and walk the path along it, I start to remember the unique landscape that makes up this beautiful land. I remember how the rocks are positioned in the creek, which one I step on to get to the next one, which one is wobbly or slippery, and which one is sturdy.

I found a heart-shaped rock in the creek bed. It was a surprise, and I call it the heart of the creek.

Slowly, each time, I begin to build an intimate relationship with the land. At different times of the day, the sunlight is different, the temperature of the air feels different on my skin, and the water is colder in the morning than in the afternoon. I begin to plan my day and visit the creek based on the rhythm of the day and how I feel.

Instead of looking at the time on the clock, I begin to use my five senses to observe and feel my surroundings. The soft sunlight in the morning and at dusk, the bright and flat sunlight in the mid-afternoon, give me an idea of what time of day it is.

I also begin to notice that the wildlife around me has its own rhythm. I often see banana slugs in the early morning when the air is still cool and moist, deer grazing in the field closer to dusk, quails gathering by the trees in the morning, and turkeys walking through the forest in early morning and mid afternoon.

I begin to see the interconnectedness of the land and the fragile ecosystem. It inspires me to learn more about the land and develop a deeper awareness of the delicate ecosystem I am a part of.

I am not separate from nature.

Without understanding, connection, and appreciation for our land, we lose touch with our innate wisdom to care for our Earth and ourselves. The Earth holds so much beauty and generosity, and yet we may not always pause long enough to notice and appreciate.

There is a quiet beckoning for us to awaken our hearts and remember that we are part of nature. Reconnecting with the land can be deeply nourishing, and the process of building a deeper connection with the land helps us reconnect with ourselves.

Enjoying being with small fish kissing my feet.

Intimacy with the land, for me, is taking time to sit by the creek, listen to the sounds around me, and observe—the reflections on the water, the trees, the shadows. It is feeling the wind on my skin and putting my feet in the water, being with the fish.

As I immerse myself in my surroundings, a song naturally arises and expresses itself through me. It feels as though I am having a conversation with the land, attuned to its rhythms and presence.

Another way I like to honor my connection with the land is through drumming and singing in nature. Sometimes, I set an intention to connect with the land or receive wisdom from it. Other times, I simply want to show my appreciation and gratitude by offering a song.

Each time I do this, I feel more intimate with the land and experience a deeper sense of peace and joy within myself. I feel more attuned to my own inner rhythm and more able to sense and notice the subtle signals my body is guiding me toward.

May this writing inspire you to take some time to be in nature. With curiosity and an open heart, I invite you to listen, notice, and feel. What do you encounter? I would love to hear about your experience.

Peace & Light,

Sheau/Loleti Loving Light

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