Now, I’m a poet—so this kind of exercise is my idea of fun. But as it turns out, anthropomorphism (attributing human qualities to an object, landscape in this case), has actually been shown to decrease loneliness and invite a sense of connection. Finding the “human” in the natural landscapes around us allows us to relate to nature on deeper levels than we thought possible. And in the midst of such creativity, we simultaneously stir our most sacred femininity.
No matter where on the planet we find ourselves, there is a landscape to be observed. Observation alone is enough to foster a relationship with nature, but it’s the writing about landscape that starts a conversation.
So, take a look around: Where have you found yourself? Are there mountains nearby? The ocean? Grab your journal, take a seat, and invite your imagination to unfold on the blank page before you. Your writing can take the form of a journal entry, prose, or a free-form poem, like this piece, a follow up to Desert Woman:
Body folded up, a horizon
her spine an arched rock formation
in the smears of a setting sun.
Curious, in the orange light.
A heavy moon rises
ripe with a flame-colored glow,
sweeps the parched dirt in gold-blue
nectar, for which she unfolds.
Desert Woman begins a dance
Mother Earth opens her eyes
and we hear a whisper—
our cupped hands fill with a musty elixir.
We drink and become timeless.
Here’s the best part: When it comes to your new practice as a creative writer, there are zero rules. Just the infinity behind your creative impulse. And before you go thinking it’s weird to imagine what that pine tree would look like as a person, or what it might say to you… Isn’t it weirder that as a species, we’ve chopped down 46% of our planet’s trees, which we need to survive?