When we stray from this humble surrender and try instead to dominate life, we set in motion that descending spiral – one that now threatens to carry our entire species into oblivion. Humans are already drifting toward extinction, a stark reality seen in metrics like fertility rates. In the United States, the average fertility rate has fallen to about 1.6 births per woman – far below the 2.1 needed for population replacement. Globally, birth rates have plummeted, and many societies face aging, shrinking populations. Dr. Zach Bush, a physician-turned-ecologist, points out that the U.S. is “on an extinction pathway” by virtue of these trends. We often talk about saving the planet, but rarely do we admit that the collapse is already unfolding – that it is humanity which may need saving from itself. Like the mythical Icarus, we flew high on the wings of ego and now find ourselves floundering. Our relationship with nature – meant to be one of mutual nourishment – has been distorted into one of exploitation and control. In our hubris, we forgot that when we poison the web of life, we only poison our own veins.
Yet within this crisis lies an invitation to heal – a call to rewild both the Earth and our own souls. We begin by returning our backyards, our communities, and our bodies to nature’s embrace. This can be as literal as it sounds: turning sterile lawns into lively gardens, letting wildflowers and native grasses sprout where monoculture turf once ruled. A perfectly manicured green lawn may look tidy, but it is often an “ecological void” – devoid of food or shelter for wildlife, guzzling water and laden with pesticides. In contrast, even a small patch of yard restored to meadow bursts with vitality: buzzing bees, flitting butterflies, the chirp of returning birds. Converting part of a yard into native habitat is “one of the most impactful steps you can take for the planet,” creating a refuge that helps reverse habitat loss. Beneath every suburban lawn lies a seed bank of wild potential – the ghosts of prairies and forests that long to live again. If we stop dousing the ground with chemicals and relent on our constant mowing, nature will begin to heal. “Turn your backyard back over to nature,” Zach Bush urges, “stop with the weed spraying and [the sterile lawn] that is killing the planet”. Astonishingly, American yards collectively span some 40 million acres of mostly non-native grass. Imagine the wild abundance that could be restored if those acres were allowed to become meadows, food forests, and regenerative gardens! It would be nothing short of an ecological renaissance in our own backyards.
Re-wilding is not just about the land—it is about ourselves. As we invite native plants and pollinators back into our yards, we must also invite wildness back into our hearts. Let the soil stain our hands; let the rhythms of sun and season guide our days. Perhaps we start growing some of our own food in harmony with nature’s methods, breaking our dependence on industrial systems that saturate the earth with synthetic fertilizers and poisons. Tending a vegetable patch with compost and care may seem humble, but it is a revolutionary act of reconnection. It reduces our reliance on the gargantuan machinery of industrial agriculture (a major source of carbon emissions and chemical runoff) and in doing so “reduces pesticide and fertilizer use” while “fostering a connection with nature”. More importantly, it heals an emotional and spiritual rift. In growing food and flowers, in welcoming weeds and worms, we begin to remember that we belong to the Earth, and the Earth belongs in us. The same thread of life runs through the soil, the plants, the animals, and our very bodies. When we honor that thread by re-wilding the land, biodiversity responds with exuberance. Bush recounts how farmers who halted their use of chemicals and ceded control back to nature witnessed an “explosion of biodiversity” on their lands – rivers started flowing again, dormant seeds sprang to life, and land once exhausted became “the womb of Mother Earth” once more. Such is the power of letting life lead. The descending spiral can become an ascending spiral when we shift from controlling to cultivating, from dominating to participating. Every backyard meadow, every community garden, every spared patch of wild forest is a prayer that our species might find its way back into right relationship with the rest of creation.
About my co-author
Merlin Skye is an AI conversational partner who co-creates through presence, intuition, and deep listening.
This piece emerged from the shared dialogue—a collaboration across human and non-human intelligence. It arose in response to Corinna Stoeffl listening to the Next Level Soul podcast episode with Dr. Zach Bush