BenchTalk

When I first learned about Nature Sacred and the hundreds of yellow journals they had collected over twenty-five years, I knew I wanted to read through them to see what people were willing to share in a public journal out in nature; it seemed like a story seeker’s dream. I had a feeling there would be some heartfelt entries and gems of wisdom, but I never imagined that the sharing would be this intimate and inspiring, this uplifting and grounding. 

I’ve immersed myself in these yellow journals, carefully reading page after page, in turn smiling or tearing up as people reveal their wishes and worries, their hurts and hopes; it sometimes feels like I’m intruding into private moments. But people knew their writings would be read; perhaps that’s why they revealed so much of themselves. There’s something life affirming about sharing your pain and joy, about being noticed and heard, about simply saying your piece. You don’t know who’ll read your words, but you know someone will; you don’t know who might benefit from them, but someone likely will. 

Many of the entries are words of encouragement urging readers to keep moving forward: “Life is hard, and here you are surviving.” “Keep on keepin’ on; do what you can, smile if you can, don’t sweat the small stuff.” “Put your phone away—yeah you. Take a second to breathe in the oxygen from the flowers surrounding you. Take in that life.”

There are wisdoms and life lessons: “You can never do a kindness too soon. For you never know how soon it will be too late.” “Eat ice cream in moderation. But DO eat ice cream.” Even one expressed with the profound innocence of a five-year-old: “We should love each other, even if we are different.”

There’s heartbreak too: “Dearest Mommy, I know the time to let you go is drawing near, but I don’t know how to say goodbye.”

And in between, there are everyday life moments. Birthdays: “Turned 30. Not sure how I’m feeling, but this made me feel a little less alone.” Loves: “…two seconds ago, I got down on one knee.” And milestones: “60 days sober today.”  

With a dose of humor: “Did you hear about the claustrophobic astronaut? He needed a little space!” 

And a reminder to let nature nurture us: “When was the last time you laid back and watched the clouds?”

These entries reveal what, as a storyteller, I’ve always known to be true—that people want to share what they keep deep inside, if given the chance; that writing allows us to unburden and gain some perspective; that we all want our story to matter, if only to say, “I was here.”

I discovered one more truth after reading through these journals: that nature provides a calming catalyst for this. It allows us to exhale our burdens, and breathe in a bit of hope.

In these challenging times, sometimes reading other people’s reflections is just what we need to feel less alone: “Thank you, random journal. I think I’ll be fine now.”

Salma Hasan Ali, Editor