Chapter 1: The Personal Journey

Self-care often carries a stigma of selfishness…unless we adopt a radically different perspective.

I have experienced a complicated relationship with the concept of self-care. For a long time, I believed I didn’t deserve to allocate time or resources for myself, particularly when there were bills to settle and endless tasks to manage each day. Pampering my nails or treating myself to a massage felt like extravagant luxuries. My life was packed with responsibilities—grading papers, crafting lesson plans, experimenting with fiber arts, and cherishing moments with my husband.

While I occasionally treated myself to a haircut, that was as far as my self-care extended. My wardrobe consisted of clothing that adhered to a simple color scheme, allowing me to feel somewhat put together for work. My self-care routine was minimal, relying mostly on sinking into a comfortable chair, propping my legs on a stool, wrapping myself in a warm quilt, and enjoying a good book—often accompanied by some chocolate, whether liquid or solid.

Then came retirement, a time that opened up opportunities for self-discovery. I embraced long drives through breathtaking landscapes, indulged in new dining experiences, created art alongside my husband, and engaged in conversations as if we were newly acquainted rather than partners of four decades.

The loss of my husband turned my world upside down, leaving me adrift from my former life. It was then that I recognized my need for self-care. I began a dedicated meditation practice, embraced gardening, treated myself to the occasional pedicure, sought therapy, indulged in naps, and resolved to find a meaningful pursuit for the years that lay ahead.

I found solace in non-fiction. Strangely, I lost interest in fiction—no more romances, sci-fi adventures, or spy thrillers. Instead, I was captivated by new scientific narratives. Previously uninteresting topics suddenly became compelling: the hidden life of trees, the wonders of fungi, and the stories of women breaking barriers in science. I also rekindled my love for history, enriched by a deeper context than what I had encountered in traditional history books.

And then…magic unfolded.

I discovered Indigenous literature, which profoundly shifted my worldview. I began to see self-care as essential—not just for individuals, but for entire communities and all living beings on our planet. We all require healing that extends back centuries in order to progress meaningfully.

I acknowledge that this is a bold assertion, and I embrace these words wholeheartedly.

During the past months, I have navigated through periods of profound grief and depression, questioning my purpose. I have pondered why and how our societies and institutions are crumbling at an alarming rate. I expect to revisit these thoughts as I seek to understand what I need—and what we all need—in terms of care for ourselves, our ecosystems, and the Earth itself.

The gaps in our historical narratives are glaring. To comprehend the events surrounding Little Big Horn, for instance, one only needs to explore Joseph M. Marshall III's The Day the World Ended at Little Big Horn, which reveals our ignorance of the true implications of that battle and many others overlooked in our education.

Stories have both entertained and enlightened us, serving a purpose that goes beyond mere amusement. The teachings shared by Lakota elders have been vital for cultural survival, imparting life lessons and virtues essential for balance and happiness.

Custer's defeat was monumental from the Native perspective, yet our education often neglects the surrounding context—the terrain, the encampments, the logistics, and the profound misunderstandings of the tribes involved.

Our taught history is filled with names and dates, lacking the rich narratives that offer moral lessons for all citizens. The more we read, the clearer it becomes how much of our collective past has been omitted. This includes the near-total eradication of a centuries-old relationship with the land, the forced separation of families, and the government’s misguided "Indian problem" policies.

How do we reconcile with this history of sorrow, hurt, and anger?

We must engage in the repair and reparations needed for all living entities on this planet. This journey of healing and understanding has become integral to my definition of self-care.

However, this is just one small aspect of my evolving definition of self-care, which I believe should encompass a broader understanding of caring for ourselves and for others. It's not solely about individual self-care, but rather about recognizing the lack of care we've collectively afforded to all beings throughout history.

You may have noticed in public gatherings there is often an acknowledgment of living on unceded Native lands, recognizing the tribes, such as the Abenaki, who once stewarded the earth. This acknowledgment is a step towards understanding the harm caused over centuries. Yet, much work remains, starting with learning the "Original Instructions" given to those who inhabited this land first on how to care for the earth, its creatures, and its plants.

Robin Wall Kimmerer, a botanist and member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation, has beautifully articulated these lessons in her book, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teaching of Plants. This book is a profound departure from the dry scientific texts of the past; it is filled with essential lessons we must learn if we hope to salvage our planet.

The "Original Instructions" are not commandments; they serve more as a compass guiding us rather than a strict map. Each of us must navigate our own path, and how we interpret these instructions will vary from person to person and era to era.

Every essay and story connects to Indigenous wisdom and our relationship with the planet. Now is the time to read, absorb, and understand our past and, crucially, our potential future.

This should become our new mantra for self-care:

If one tree thrives, they all thrive—there are no individuals in isolation. Not just one tree, but the entire grove; not just one grove in the forest, but every forest. All across the nation and state, trees operate not as solitary beings, but as a collective. The precise mechanism of their unity is still a mystery, but the evidence of their interconnectedness is clear. What happens to one affects us all. We can either starve or feast together; our flourishing is interdependent.

There are countless insightful ideas within this book—enough to inspire meaningful change for ourselves and for every living thing around us.

I can now embrace the idea that I am a writer who works with and within the forest—a writer practicing the art of forestry. While the practice of forestry may evolve, it seems rare for artistic skills to be valued in timber industries or forestry education. Perhaps this is what we require: artists as foresters.

Once again, the arts play a crucial role in our healing. Simply standing at an overlook, gazing at the Adirondack Mountains across Lake Champlain and marveling at the vibrant autumn colors, fills our hearts with joy. Yet, we must remain aware that foliage season is arriving later each year due to climate change and erratic weather patterns. Some colors are disappearing as specific trees succumb to new, unidentified diseases.

Every part of our planet, even in our backyards, cries out for care. We dismantle dams to restore natural water flow, reevaluate forest management practices to support ecosystems, and address the damage done over time.

As individuals, we can contribute significantly to our collective well-being, especially as we gain more knowledge and understanding. Take time for a nap. Walk in solidarity with others. Engage in conversations with those around you. Sing if it inspires you. Smile at your neighbors. Donate to a food shelf. Expand your horizons. Write poetry inspired by nature. Volunteer for community clean-up efforts. Create art reflecting your dreams. Educate yourself about the histories of those who came before us. Involve friends in activities. Watch documentaries and discuss them with others. Seek out hidden aspects of our history.

Remember, you are reconnecting with what has preceded us all. Let us honor, nurture, and celebrate the transformations and self-care we can cultivate anew.

The first video titled "Why Self Care isn't Selfish" features Jessica Brubaker at TEDxGrandCanyonUniversity, shedding light on the importance of self-care without guilt or shame.

Chapter 2: The Broader Perspective

In the second video, titled "IS SELF CARE SELFISH? LET'S TALK + HEY!", the discussion revolves around the misconceptions of self-care and its significance in our lives.