Introduction
Summary of the Book Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer. Before moving forward, let’s take a quick look at the book. Imagine quietly waking at dawn and stepping outside, where dew-kissed grasses shimmer and birds chatter secrets overhead. In that stillness, you realize every breath, every bite of food, and every sip of water is a gift from living systems that ask nothing in return. Our ancestors once knew this: that nature and humanity are dance partners, each move shaping the other’s steps. By weaving Indigenous insights with scientific understanding, we rediscover the art of gratitude and reciprocity. We learn that the Earth’s generosity can endure only if met with human care. As you begin reading, let these pages awaken a keen curiosity about seeds, soils, and the stories we whisper to plants. May these lessons wrap around you like a gentle breeze, nudging you to cherish, protect, and nurture the world that sustains us all.
Chapter 1: Embracing Indigenous Perspectives Amid Conflicting Worlds To Understand Nature’s True Gifts.
Growing up straddling two very different cultures can feel like trying to listen to two overlapping songs, each with its own melody, rhythm, and meaning. For Robin Wall Kimmerer, an Indigenous Potawatomi woman raised largely within modern American society, every aspect of daily life offered lessons in these contrasting worldviews. At times, this meant experiencing nature in two opposing ways: the quiet reverence and gratitude deeply embedded in her people’s traditions versus the transactional, profit-driven approach of the surrounding mainstream culture. Where her Indigenous elders understood rivers, plants, and animals as relatives with whom one shares a relationship, the dominant society saw them as commodities to buy, sell, and consume. In that atmosphere, a field of wild strawberries wasn’t just a free gift of the earth; it became an object to monetize, measure, and restrain, revealing an unsettling gap in understanding.
As a child, Kimmerer often wandered into the fields near her home, carefully gathering handfuls of ripe, red berries that practically glowed with sweetness. To her Potawatomi mindset, these were not simply fruits waiting to be claimed; they were gifts generously offered by the living land. Yet the world outside her family’s influence believed differently. Employers who hired her to pick strawberries did not allow a single berry into her mouth unless it was paid for. This rule was about more than just preventing petty theft; it reflected a societal norm that all things of value must be purchased, and that nature’s bounty came at a price. Such rules silently taught young people that nothing is free, that even the soil and sun must somehow yield profit, reducing nature to mere resources.
In many Indigenous traditions, taking something from the earth without expressing gratitude or providing something in return risks upsetting the delicate balance that sustains life. The Potawatomi and other Native communities know that this reciprocity—giving back after you receive—is how the world remains abundant and healthy. Without these respectful exchanges, fields grow barren, forests recede, and waters become polluted. Yet Western approaches have largely favored extraction without repayment, leading to widespread loss of biodiversity, shrinking habitats, and collapsing ecosystems. This clash wasn’t always understood by young Kimmerer as a grand global issue. Instead, it felt like a subtle discomfort, a nagging sense that something was out of tune whenever she stepped from one world to the other. Over time, these early experiences would become a foundation for her life’s work.
With every handful of strawberries, Kimmerer learned that nature’s gifts are more than edible treats; they are lessons in generosity, patience, and cooperation. While a child might not articulate this fully, the contrast between receiving strawberries freely from an untamed meadow and being forced to pay for them on a farm revealed deeper truths. In the wild, plants give without sending bills; they offer sweetness without expecting interest or repayment in currency. In return, one could help that meadow thrive—care for the soil, spread seeds, remove invasive weeds. This mutual support is like a friendly handshake, a silent agreement that life thrives on caring relationships. But in a system where everything is fenced, priced, and tightly regulated, the human spirit loses touch with the quiet conversation happening all around us between pollinators, roots, and rainclouds.
Chapter 2: Discovering The Sacred Sweetgrass As A Living Symbol Of Shared Healing And Renewal.
Sweetgrass, with its long, graceful blades and gentle fragrance, holds a special place in the traditions of many Native cultures. In Potawatomi stories, it’s said that Sky Woman, who descended from the heavens, nurtured the first seeds of life, including sweetgrass. This plant, with its soft, glossy leaves braided as if they were strands of sacred hair, symbolizes unity and the bond between humans, the land, and the spirit world. Unlike cash crops grown in monoculture fields, sweetgrass often grows in harmonious companionship with other native species, reflecting how human beings and the environment once lived in balanced, reciprocal communion. Its disappearance from certain landscapes is not only a botanical tragedy but also an echo of cultural loss, as modern weed invasions and habitat changes mirror the disruptive forces that once scattered Indigenous peoples from their homelands.
As colonization spread across the continent, foreign species—both plant and human—arrived with harsh consequences. Just as invasive weeds choke out native flora, the influx of European settlers, backed by policies that favored displacement, forced Indigenous tribes from their ancestral lands. Sweetgrass patches shrank in much the same way as tribal territories were carved up, sold off, or stolen, often leaving scars that lingered in wounded soils and fractured cultural memories. This isn’t a simple gardening challenge; it’s a centuries-old narrative about exploitation and disregard for deeply rooted knowledge. Native languages and traditions, including those that teach how to tend sweetgrass sustainably, were suppressed. Children were taken from families, their tongues discouraged from speaking ancestral words, eroding the intimate relationships that help Indigenous communities care for their plant kin.
Yet sweetgrass remains a beacon of hope and resilience, teaching that healing is possible when humans treat the earth as a treasured relative rather than a disposable product. For generations, basket weavers have braided sweetgrass into useful, artful items, weaving prayers and respect into every strand. This action links them back to Sky Woman’s intention, forging a continuing covenant between people and their land. If you imagine braiding sweetgrass, you can almost sense past and present, visible and invisible worlds coming together in quiet, patient cooperation. We find here a subtle lesson: no matter how disrupted an ecosystem or culture has become, nurturing respect and gratitude can restore what once flourished. But restoration requires that we see nature not as a storehouse of commodities but as a companion, deserving of thoughtful, caring attention.
Recovering sweetgrass habitats involves careful listening to the land. Just as a gardener knows which plants thrive in shade or sun, traditional ecological knowledge instructs us to observe how sweetgrass grows, what soils it prefers, and which disturbances it can endure. Indigenous teachings say that if you gather sweetgrass properly, you encourage its return. Rather than uprooting entire patches, gatherers take only what they need, gently pulling a few blades and leaving the roots intact. This encourages the sweetgrass to grow back stronger. In such reciprocity lies the essence of Indigenous environmental ethics: take mindfully, leave enough for regeneration, and always offer something in return, such as care or a prayer of thanks. If we remember this lesson, sweetgrass may once again adorn meadows, linking modern people to ancestral wisdom.
Chapter 3: Revealing The Cycles Of Reciprocity And Gratitude That Sustain Human Communities.
Reciprocity isn’t just a fancy word; it’s an ancient principle that many Indigenous peoples have honored for countless generations. It’s about understanding that every relationship thrives on balanced exchange, whether it is between family members, neighbors, or humans and the natural world. Within Indigenous cultural frames, the world is alive with personalities and intelligences—from the birds singing at dawn to the mushrooms quietly recycling nutrients underground. In this worldview, no being is merely a resource, and no gift goes unacknowledged. This mindset encourages people to say, Thank you, not just in words but in deeds—replanting seeds, improving soil, cleaning streams. In return, nature offers continued bounty. The circle remains whole. Such reciprocity stands in stark contrast to systems that take endlessly—extracting ores, clear-cutting forests, and overfishing seas—without pausing to ask what long-term harm results.
Imagine teaching a child how the world truly operates when based on generosity rather than pure profit. A daughter learns from her mother, just as her mother once learned from an elder. Over time, the daughter becomes a teacher herself, passing on time-honored lessons to new generations. Anthropologists like Paula Gunn describe these life stages—daughter, mother, teacher—as a cycle, revealing how knowledge flows endlessly through familial lines. This model shows that what we receive as children, we later give back as mentors. The same can apply to our bond with nature: the clean water, fertile soil, and fresh air we inherit must be safeguarded for those who come after us. If one link in this chain fails to pay forward these gifts, the chain weakens, risking collapse of both cultural and environmental wellbeing.
When Kimmerer encountered a polluted pond where algae smothered the surface, it was not enough to feel sad or angry. She took action, removing the clinging green mats, visiting regularly, and working steadily to restore balance. This nurturing approach echoed the reciprocity taught by her ancestors. Care is an investment that pays dividends in future abundance. Freed from choking algae, birds again found a safe haven, insects thrived, and waters flowed healthier downstream. This local act radiated outward. Every improvement in one spot can influence neighboring places, guiding them towards renewed vitality. By caring for a single pond, she contributed to an intricate system of interlaced habitats. Just as a mother nurtures a child who later becomes a caretaker herself, the pond would, in time, foster life and growth elsewhere.
In a modern world addicted to quick profits and instant gratification, reciprocity may seem old-fashioned. Yet it is precisely what’s needed for long-term survival. When people focus only on taking, they risk exhausting vital resources and creating barren landscapes. The reciprocal mindset ensures that what we borrow today from nature, we must repay through respectful stewardship. If we do not, soil erodes, pollinators vanish, and rivers run dry. By re-embracing reciprocity, we open ourselves to countless opportunities for positive change. We might restore wetlands to improve water quality, refrain from harvesting all the rice or berries so the land can renew itself, or share seeds with neighbors to strengthen community food security. Each small action, guided by gratitude and balance, can help restore the original melody of coexistence that once defined human existence.
Chapter 4: Applying The Principle Of Honorable Harvests To Restore Balance And Harmony Between Species.
The honorable harvest is a timeless concept that guides the way humans take gifts from the land. Instead of imposing short-sighted rules that revolve around financial fines and quotas, the honorable harvest operates as a moral contract between human beings and the living world. This contract insists that we never take more than we need, that we leave enough for other creatures, and that we actively assist in regeneration after we harvest. For Indigenous peoples, leaving half the rice in a field or refraining from uprooting every last medicinal plant is not neglect; it is generosity. It ensures that other living beings can feed, that the soil remains rich, and that, next season, there will be another harvest. Without these principles, farming becomes a reckless raid, draining soils and driving species toward extinction.
Contrast this with modern agriculture and resource extraction, where the land is often seen as a bottomless pantry. Big industrial farms sweep across acres, stripping away biodiversity, spraying chemicals that kill beneficial insects alongside harmful pests, and caring little for what remains once profits are banked. Policies might set minimum fish sizes or hunting seasons, but these rules approach nature as a commodity. Breaking them often results merely in a fine that can be written off as a business expense. The honorable harvest, by contrast, cannot be reduced to a list of don’ts. It is a shared understanding that allows humans and nature to thrive side by side. It reminds us that trust, appreciation, and thoughtful restraint create healthier outcomes than any stack of government regulations could ever guarantee alone.
Embracing the honorable harvest means noticing subtle cues in the environment. Just as a respectful guest observes a host’s comfort before taking a seat, a thoughtful harvester watches plant populations, weather patterns, and the arrival of pollinators. They ask: Is this the right time to gather? Are these plants abundant enough to spare some leaves without harming the population? Have I thanked the land through care, ensuring future resilience? Such questions transform a simple act of picking berries or mushrooms into a dance of mutual respect. The harvester becomes a steward, actively shaping the landscape for future abundance. By adopting this mindset, people can transform consumer-driven routines into mindful participation, ensuring that nature’s gifts continue flowing. Over time, these practices can restore fields and forests to richer, more harmonious states.
Honorable harvesting extends beyond food to every form of resource extraction. Consider timber: instead of clear-cutting a forest, a sustainable approach might mean selecting only certain trees, ensuring the canopy remains diverse and resilient. Each choice acknowledges that forests are not simply timber yards but communities of interdependent species. Such approaches align with Indigenous ways of knowing, which never viewed human beings as masters but as active members of a vast ecological family. If we incorporate these lessons into our daily lives—maybe by choosing locally grown produce, supporting regenerative agriculture, or volunteering with community gardens—we begin to weave ourselves back into a web of reciprocal relationships. The honorable harvest doesn’t eliminate human needs; it fulfills them in ways that heal, rather than harm, the living systems on which we utterly depend.
Chapter 5: Learning From The ‘Three Sisters’ To Grow A Healthier Future Through Cooperative Farming.
The Three Sisters agricultural method—corn, beans, and squash growing together—is not just an old-fashioned curiosity; it’s a powerful reminder that cooperation among species can lead to robust, sustainable yields. This Indigenous farming tradition teaches us that plants, like people, can flourish when they support one another. Corn provides tall stalks for beans to climb, beans fix nitrogen in the soil to nourish both neighbors, and squash spreads wide leaves that shield the ground, conserving moisture and deterring pests. This trio mirrors a loving family: each sister contributes unique strengths, ensuring no sister struggles alone. In today’s world of monocrops and synthetic fertilizers, this ancient example proves that working with nature’s diverse talents yields healthier crops. It challenges us to move beyond one-size-fits-all solutions and rediscover time-tested methods that restore balance.
While today’s massive farms rely heavily on chemical inputs, pesticides, and genetically modified seeds, the Three Sisters method encourages us to step back and observe nature’s own strategies. When farmers listen to the land—understanding its rhythms, learning from its silent wisdom—they can reduce harmful interventions. They don’t have to douse fields in insecticides that kill not just pests but vital pollinators like bees. Instead, diverse planting mimics natural ecosystems, where complex relationships keep populations in check. If insects bother the corn, the squash’s prickly leaves can deter them. If the soil is depleted, beans quietly restore fertility. Such collaborative plant communities are like well-orchestrated symphonies, each note contributing to a harmonious whole. Adopting these lessons today could mean more nutritious food, stable yields, and fields that welcome birdsong and butterflies.
Beyond their ecological benefits, the Three Sisters carry cultural significance. This triad is rooted in a tale of kindness and gratitude: three strangers found shelter and nourishment in a village’s time of scarcity. Revealing themselves as the incarnations of corn, beans, and squash, they gifted the community enduring seeds of sustenance. Through this story, communities learned respect for what nature offers, understanding that generosity and gratitude can yield prosperity. Today, as we face environmental crises, we might rediscover these teachings. They remind us that we are not separate from nature’s cycles but active participants. When we recognize that human survival hinges on ecological harmony, we can pivot away from destructive practices. The Three Sisters guide our understanding that diversity, cooperation, and reverence for natural processes still matter in feeding our future.
Reintroducing traditional methods like the Three Sisters could transform industrial agriculture, making it more resilient in the face of climate change. Crop diversity can buffer against droughts, pests, and diseases that increasingly challenge large-scale monocultures. As we integrate ancient wisdom with modern techniques—using soil testing, drip irrigation, and careful seed selection—we honor both old and new knowledge systems. Such integrated approaches help build richer soils, healthier ecosystems, and stronger communities. The legacy of the Three Sisters isn’t just a lesson in sustainable farming; it’s also a call for humility. We must accept that we don’t have all the answers and that nature can teach us. By planting seeds that strengthen rather than weaken ecosystems, we set an example for coming generations—showing them how respect, adaptability, and cooperation can feed both body and spirit.
Chapter 6: Redefining Sustainability By Listening To Nature’s Quiet Yet Powerful Instructions For Renewal.
Our modern world often treats environmentalism as a checklist—recycle here, reduce there—without truly rethinking the values that got us into ecological trouble. Indigenous worldviews push us to consider something deeper: what if sustainability is not merely about doing less harm but about actively nurturing life’s abundance? If we listen closely, nature offers subtle guidance. Frogs emerging after rain, mushrooms thriving in decaying logs, and shifting bird migration patterns all convey messages about climate, soil health, and ecological resilience. When we acknowledge these signals, we realize that environmental care goes beyond rules and regulations. It requires empathy, imagination, and the willingness to see ourselves as participants in nature’s grand dance. From this perspective, sustainability is not an abstract ideal but a lived relationship shaped by gratitude, patience, and moral responsibility.
For a long time, colonizing cultures dismissed traditional Indigenous practices as backward or unscientific. But now, as ecosystems falter, scientists and policymakers increasingly recognize that ancient knowledge holds keys to preserving biodiversity. Indigenous people knew that leaving some fish in the stream today ensures a healthy catch next season. They understood that thanking a plant before harvesting builds a respectful bond. Today’s environmental crises demand we learn from these lessons. Without such humility, modern sustainability efforts risk remaining shallow. Even recycling, while beneficial, only addresses symptoms, not root causes. To safeguard the planet’s future, we must rethink our place in it, forging reciprocal relationships rather than extracting value. This means safeguarding pollinators’ habitats, restoring wetlands, rotating crops responsibly, and choosing to honor the Earth’s generosity with actions that sustain, rather than exhaust, her gifts.
When we broaden our vision of sustainability, we begin to see that nature doesn’t thrive by accident. Healthy ecosystems result from countless interactions woven over time—predators keeping prey in check, plants exchanging nutrients with microbes, and trees sharing resources underground. Indigenous teachings emphasize observing these interactions, understanding that humans must play their part without dominating. We can emulate these principles in our neighborhoods. Instead of paving over every green space, we can restore pollinator gardens. Instead of treating lawns like sterile carpets, we can welcome native flowers that feed butterflies. With each small act, we align ourselves with a narrative of regeneration, not depletion. By listening to nature’s instructions, we find ways to live in harmony with seasonal cycles, climate patterns, and evolutionary rhythms that have guided life on Earth since time immemorial.
Redefining sustainability means evolving from mere caretakers to enthusiastic collaborators. Our species possesses unique creativity, intelligence, and technological prowess. Applied wisely, these gifts can complement nature’s patterns. Instead of relying solely on fossil fuels, we can harness wind, solar, and geothermal power. Instead of monocultures, we can foster polycultures that resemble wild ecosystems. Instead of draining wetlands, we can restore them to filter water and buffer against floods. Each choice opens a door to renewed abundance, allowing humans to live well without impoverishing the planet. In this vision, sustainability is not just a goal but a way of being—an ongoing conversation where humans listen, adapt, and co-create with the natural world. Indigenous wisdom reminds us that the Earth responds warmly to those who offer respect and care. With understanding, we can redefine what it means to thrive.
Chapter 7: Educating The Next Generation To Cherish Earth’s Gifts Through Daily Acts Of Gratitude And Respect.
Shaping the future begins with teaching children to value the world they inherit. Imagine if each morning, instead of rote pledges that emphasize flags or political symbols, students recited words of thanks to the land beneath their feet, the waters that quench their thirst, and the life-sustaining plants and animals around them. Such daily acknowledgments, practiced by some Indigenous communities, mold a mindset where gratitude to nature becomes second nature. Kids raised with this approach learn early that the Earth is not an object to exploit but a generous companion worthy of care. They grow up feeling responsible for the fields that feed them, the rivers that offer clean water, and the forests that shelter wildlife. In an era of environmental crises, this simple shift in perspective could spark the cultural renewal we urgently need.
The environmental challenges our children face—rising temperatures, stressed pollinators, diminishing biodiversity—demand courage and innovation. Instilling reverence for the natural world fosters not only compassion but also resilience. A child who truly understands where their food comes from won’t shrug off pollution. They’ll realize that eroding soils and vanishing bees mean fewer strawberries for their own children someday. The next generation can grow into leaders who don’t merely complain about shrinking forests or drying lakes but step up to restore them. Whether planting urban gardens, supporting wildlife corridors, or advocating for cleaner energy, these children-turned-adults will view environmental care as a duty linked to their sense of identity and belonging.
The schools that include a daily Thanksgiving address to nature are not indoctrinating students; they are reminding them that gratitude is a powerful motivator. Recognizing nature’s gifts can inspire people to share what they have, to reach out with generous hands rather than greedy fists. If each morning children give thanks for fresh air and safe drinking water, they internalize that these blessings are not guaranteed. When adults mention climate change or deforestation, children who have learned to be grateful will not meet these ideas with apathy, but with concern and a desire to help. Instilling environmental ethics from a young age nurtures individuals who respect cultural diversity, value scientific inquiry, and appreciate the legacy of Indigenous wisdom. In time, they may transform society’s priorities, ensuring their children inherit a thriving, generous planet.
As these children mature, they become teachers themselves, passing on their values, stories, and lessons. Over generations, gratitude spreads like a beneficial fungus underground, connecting roots and nourishing future shoots. The children taught to love the Earth grow into adults who join political movements that champion forests, back laws that protect wetlands, and promote innovations that reduce carbon footprints. They form community groups, invent sustainable technologies, and volunteer to clean parks. Bit by bit, these everyday heroes create a ripple effect, changing how we see growth and prosperity. No longer must development mean destroying what sustains us. Instead, development can mean enriching our relationship with Earth, ensuring that every step forward respects the intricate web of life. By guiding the next generation toward reverence, we chart a path toward true planetary healing.
Chapter 8: From Fragile Hope To Ongoing Action, Ensuring Our Collective Bond With Nature Endures Forever.
The fate of our species is interwoven with the fate of the environment. We can no longer deny that the health of pollinators affects our crops, that rising seas threaten our coasts, or that vanishing forests remove crucial lungs from our planet’s atmosphere. Yet the knowledge we need to address these crises is not locked away in distant universities. It can be found in the living traditions of Indigenous peoples, who have long maintained a respectful partnership with nature. Braiding together Indigenous wisdom, modern science, and a renewed moral compass can guide us to reverse damage and heal wounded landscapes. This path requires both courage and humility. We must admit that current systems often fail life’s delicate balance. Then, in admission, we must find resolve to shift from fragile hope to determined action.
Such transformation won’t happen overnight. It calls for each of us to consider daily choices: what we eat, how we travel, where we invest. We must weigh convenience against the long-term cost to soil, water, and air. Supporting local farms that practice reciprocal harvesting, choosing products that spare forests, and helping movements that push for carbon regulations are steps in the right direction. This collective effort builds a tapestry of meaningful changes. As we adapt and listen to nature’s lessons, we may rediscover sweetgrass in meadows where it once vanished or see pollinators return to blossoming fields. Each achievement can reinforce that cooperation with nature isn’t just a dream but a practical, life-saving strategy.
When faced with looming environmental threats, despair can come easily. But Indigenous teachings remind us that nature is resilient if we allow it to recover. Maple trees, for example, offer more than sweet syrup. They symbolize reciprocity: trees clean the air, store carbon, and sustain wildlife. Yet without decisive action, warming climates will march these maples northward, leaving empty groves behind. Protecting them means becoming politically active—supporting policies that limit emissions, encouraging companies to rethink their operations, and joining local efforts to reforest degraded lands. It’s a chance to stand up for relatives we may never have met—be they trees, bees, or salmon—knowing that our well-being is tethered to theirs.
In the end, preserving our relationship with nature is not about returning to a mythic past. It’s about integrating ancient wisdom and modern innovation, forging a dynamic future where we honor life’s complexity. Embracing Indigenous principles doesn’t mean abandoning technology; it means using it more wisely, guided by ethical frameworks that ensure reciprocity. If we plant gardens, restore streams, and join hands with neighbors to protect local ecosystems, we foster a culture rooted in respect. Over time, these actions accumulate like layers of rich compost, nurturing new growth. The world can become a tapestry of thriving landscapes, healthy communities, and profound gratitude. Each seed we plant, each policy we champion, each lesson we pass down, braids a stronger bond with the Earth, ensuring the story we tell future generations is one of resilience.
All about the Book
Discover the power of nature through Indigenous wisdom in ‘Braiding Sweetgrass’ by Robin Wall Kimmerer. This captivating exploration of botany and culture reawakens gratitude for the natural world, bridging scientific knowledge and ancient teachings.
Robin Wall Kimmerer is a renowned botanist, author, and enrolled member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation, blending scientific knowledge with Indigenous wisdom to inspire deeper connections with nature.
Environmental Scientists, Educators, Cultural Anthropologists, Conservationists, Botanists
Gardening, Nature Photography, Hiking, Foraging, Birdwatching
Environmental Stewardship, Indigenous Rights, Cultural Preservation, Biodiversity Conservation
The land is alive, and it speaks to us.
Barack Obama, Jane Goodall, David Suzuki
Sigurd F. Olson Nature Writing Award, John Burroughs Medal, American Book Award
1. How can plants teach us about reciprocity in life? #2. What lessons do traditional stories offer about nature? #3. Why is gratitude important in our relationship with earth? #4. How does nature inspire creativity and scientific inquiry? #5. In what ways can we honor indigenous knowledge today? #6. What role does water play in our ecosystem’s health? #7. How can we practice mindfulness through our connection to nature? #8. How do plants communicate within their ecosystems effectively? #9. What does it mean to cultivate a sense of belonging? #10. How can we create sustainable relationships with the land? #11. What insights do ceremonies provide about environmental stewardship? #12. How does the concept of “gifts” shape our interactions? #13. Why is the practice of listening essential for understanding? #14. How can we reconcile scientific knowledge with indigenous wisdom? #15. In what ways can we foster biodiversity in our communities? #16. How does nature serve as a teacher for resilience? #17. What benefits arise from fostering a connection with place? #18. How can storytelling deepen our appreciation for nature? #19. What practices enhance our ability to observe the world? #20. How can we shift our perspective to view nature holistically?
Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer, indigenous wisdom, nature writing, ecology and environment, botany and plants, cultural traditions, sustainable living, nature and spirituality, environmental conservation, ecosystem restoration, healing through nature
https://www.amazon.com/Braiding-Sweetgrass-Kimmerer-Wisdom-Connectedness/dp/1571313567/
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