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What’s the “C-word,” you may ask?

Coding.

So many people tell me they’re terrified of it.

They don’t know where to start, or they wonder: What would I even do with this anyway?

And honestly? I get it.

The world of coding feels massive, but it is absolutely important that we know how to tackle the basics so we can build the confidence to dive into data.

You are a Data Point

As you read this sentence, you are a data point. The device you’re reading this on just logged where you accessed this article from.

Was it a link from LinkedIn? An email? Directly from my website?

I then use this information to decide where I should spend my time to boost engagement.

Every action leaves a trace. Not just this article.

Your phone, your computer, your car…everything is collecting data.

Because of this constant flood of information, you can’t scroll on LinkedIn without seeing someone mention R, Python, AI, vibe coding… or maybe that’s just my feed.

There’s so much noise out there that trying to learn it all can feel like drinking from a firehose.

So a lot of people sigh in defeat and say:
“Ugh, I can’t code.”

“You use R? That’s so hard!”

“I hate math!”

What Language Is Best for Me?

Before we dive further into this section, I should clarify a few things.

1. A programming language is, quite simply, a language used for programming, such as R or Python. Think of it like English or Spanish. Each language has its own vocabulary and structure.

2. Syntax refers to the grammar rules of a language. It is the specific way code must be written for the computer to understand it.

3. And coding is simply the act of writing using that language and syntax.

Now that this is out of the way… we may proceed.

When thinking about coding, the first thing that you should consider is your desired outcome.

I’m an ecologist, so my ultimate goal is to understand and communicate various ecological phenomena.

In my day-to-day work, I use programming languages to analyze wildfire patterns, process satellite imagery, and understand how ecosystems change over time. I then translate the outputs into a way that others can understand.

Someone else might use coding to build apps, analyze finances, create art, build systems, build games, create transportation routes that shorten distances to grocery stores, and automate tasks.

The language changes, but the core idea stays the same:

Coding is just a tool that helps us understand information. Your interests determine what language you use and how you use it.

The Secret to Coding

Leaning into these tools has taken me places I never expected, including attending a joint NEON-TERENO research workshop in Germany focused on global ecological data collaboration.

But I didn’t get there by being some genius wizard who writes flawless code on the first try.

I got there because I knew the secret to coding:

It is trial and error. And it rewards practice.

You write a line.
It breaks.
You fix a typo.
It runs.
You celebrate.

And then you do it all over again.

The more you code, the better you get, just like practicing Spanish on Duolingo.

Where do I start?

You do not need an expensive degree to start coding. I wish I had realized that earlier (haha, jk… sort of). But maybe I walked so those after me could run.

There are countless free resources to learn coding, and just as much free data available to experiment with.

If you’re interested in starting your coding journey, I have developed a simple web app on my website to help get your feet wet. There are a few mini-lessons with built-in lines of code that I’ll continue expanding over time. I built it so that you don’t have to worry about installing the right software, loading libraries, or any other setup.

P.S. You can run it from any device.

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I also keep a running list of free learning resources, so if you want them, comment “list,” and I’ll send some your way.

For people interested in environmental work, places like the National Ecological Observatory Network (NEON) offer a wealth of open-access lessons and datasets. Their tutorials walk you step by step through working with and visualizing data in both R and Python.

You learn a little coding and a lot of ecology at the same time.

That’s the beautiful part: you do not need to reinvent the wheel.

You just need the basics.

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Before I encountered the field of disturbance ecology, many years ago, I thought all disturbance was bad.

Back then, my understanding of disturbance came from firsthand experiences with tropical storms and hurricanes. I saw landslides swallow roads and homes, businesses destroyed, trees ripped from the ground, and lives changed by recurring storms.

To me, disturbance meant devastation.

But I realized that my understanding was limited, and that disturbance is far more complex than what first meets the eye.

The Ecological Reset

Disturbance is the ultimate double-edged sword. On one side, it can cause immense loss. This is the aspect most of us focus on. Consider a wildfire tearing through a dense forest.

In the process, it destroys natural habitats, decimates populations of flora (plants) and fauna (animals), makes space for invasive species, and may even claim homes in its path.

That loss is easily recognized.

It is seen.

It is often felt.

However, the flip side of disturbance, the reset and the process of creation, is often less obvious.

In forested ecosystems, a wildfire can thin a crowded canopy, finally allowing sunlight to reach the forest floor.

This reset enables shade-intolerant species (species that hate being in the shade, I call them direct-sunlight-lovers), like Ponderosa Pine, to take root and flourish.

Beyond opening space, disturbances can:

• Eradicate invasive species that have limited native populations.

• Recycle vital nutrients back into the soil through ash and decay.

• Stimulate germination in serotinous species, whose cones require high temperatures to open and release seeds.

With this thinking, I understand that the system changes, but it is not necessarily ruined.

The Human Side

Every now and then, we experience our own disturbances, ie. the disruptions to the routines, plans, and versions of ourselves that we’ve grown comfortable with. At first glance, we see inconvenience, destruction, ruin, and misfortune.

But I challenge you to look for the other side.

Maybe disturbance is:

• Creating Space for New Growth:

  • clearing a path for something that could not survive in your old/current environment.

  • redirecting you toward a path more aligned with who you are becoming.

• Resetting

  • providing the fresh start that you never would have chosen, but you desperately need.

  • forcing you to rest when you wouldn’t have paused on your own.

Not every disturbance is good in the traditional sense. But not every disturbance is purely bad, either.

I’ll leave you with this: the next time your world feels like it’s burning up, remember that sometimes disruption is simply the first stage of transformation.

What is a disturbance that ended up clearing the way for something better in your life?

Earlier this year, I was accepted into a Global Biodiversity Advocacy course. My goal was simple but ambitious: Expand my professional network and immerse myself in the high-level conversations surrounding international diplomacy.

It’s been an incredible journey so far. I’ll be sharing a full piece on my experiences and the lessons I’ve learned from the world of advocacy, but today, I want to talk about personal branding.

What is the Tone of Your Reputation?

Last week, we had a powerful session led by Denise Caesar, the Founder and Executive Chair of Freadom Finders. Caesar is a marketing and branding specialist, and she spoke to us about personal branding. I must say, she delivered one of the most riveting and engaging virtual presentations I’ve ever experienced.

I knew I was in for a ride when she started the session with this scenario,

“Imagine that you have been shortlisted for something big… but you are not allowed into the room just yet.

Your reputation is going in first.

It’s going to begin to speak on your behalf.

Your reputation is not just your resume. It’s your habits, conduct, comments, reposts, silence, associations, consistency…

What tone would your reputation have? What is your reputation going to say.”

I was locked in.

I knew this was going to be a thought-provoking and potentially life-changing presentation.

The Old Me

Prior to this session, I hadn’t given my reputation much thought.

I spent years building a career as an ecologist, carefully mapping out forest structure and environmental dynamics, but I realized recently that I’d forgotten to build the most important map of all: the one that leads people to who I am and what I do.

I just thought, well…I’m good to others, I stick to my word, and I am good at what I do. That should be good enough.

Right?

The obvious answer is yes, but no one heard it.

The internet is the forest where people come to hear your sound. You may not care too much about what others think, but what others think of you may be linked to your next opportunity.

The Perfect Double Life

Who does Google, LinkedIn, Instagram, TikTok, etc. say you are? Does it align with who you are, who you want to be, or what you want others to know about you?

Allow me to be 100% real and transparent with you. My professional page reflected my career, and my personal page reflected my life. Both were authentically me, just two different perspectives.

If you look at my personal page, it’s giving: funny, adventurous, thoughtful, family-oriented, amateur chef, and motivational. Maybe even stylish? At least, I’d like to think so!

But my professional page wasn’t giving much at all. I have a LinkedIn, but I barely interact with it. I don’t post much about my technical skills, I rarely showcase new tips and tricks for data analysis, and I rarely speak on environmental topics that I am passionate about.

I have only recently started posting about my expertise in modeling and mapping, as well as how I think about science.

If my reputation walked into a room, it would tell half of the people that I was an educated motivational speaker who loves makeup, travel, outdoors, and family-time. It would tell the other half that I am an ecologist. But everyone would probably be left with the question,

“But what does she actually do?”

Separating Personal and Business

We’ve been told to separate our business and personal lives online, and keep our personal pages private. I say do what resonates with you.

I’ve always lived by the rule: Never put anything on the internet that you wouldn’t want your parents to see. As someone born and raised in the Caribbean, that rule holds significant weight.

Regardless of the situation, you should definitely amplify the things you want to be known for. That is if you desire to be found.

I have been in situations where I’ve recommended someone in my network to another person for an opportunity. I’m sure you can think of a time when you recommended someone you knew for an opportunity as well.

The reality is that many of our greatest opportunities come from sideways connections. I’m talking about the opportunities you get through your friends, colleagues, or even people you meet on the street who ask for your Instagram.

Before you even have the chance to introduce yourself, your reputation is at work.

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What do you want to be known for?

I knew what I thought of myself, but I had no idea what the room really saw. So last week, I decided to embark on a new mission: taking full control of my personal brand and being intentional about how I present myself to the world.

I realized that if I didn't define myself, someone would do it for me, likely leaving out the best parts. So, instead of just sitting with the 'double life' dilemma, I decided to build a bridge between them.

I bought a domain, opened a WordPress template, and set out to build a digital home that finally housed both the scientist and the motivator. Let’s just say, I now fully understand why web developers charge what they do! It is no easy task.

As I sat down to build my website, I realized that I wanted to see myself through the eyes of the people I’ve actually impacted. With a bit of nerves and a lot of curiosity, I reached out to my community to fill in my blind spots.

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I think that there is a specific kind of authenticity that comes from others describing how they encounter you.

So I sent out a simple message via Instagram, WhatsApp, and email: “Hey, would you mind writing a brief review of our time working together?”

Almost immediately, a response came in from one of my former mentees from the South Pacific Islands. And while reading it, I was moved to tears.

Reflecting on our time during the EcoREU, she wrote:

• To me, a good mentor is someone who is patient, honest, and actually invested in your growth, someone who guides you but also lets you find your own footing. That is exactly who you were to me at that time of my life.

• You created a space where I felt comfortable asking questions and learning

• I always tell people about you when they ask about my time with EcoREU.

This response showed me that maybe my reputation isn’t as quiet as I thought.

It reiterated to me that your reputation speaks in spaces you have not been (yet).

And it reminded me that how you show up matters.

It was Maya Angelou who said,

So I’ll leave you with 3 questions:

What are you known for?

What tone does your reputation have?

So today I’ll touch on how I think about the 3.

1. The Ally

An ally is someone who “puts you on,” according to the young(er) people. They ride alongside you, recommend you in casual conversation, and genuinely want to see you win.

This might look like a supervisor introducing you to higher-ups and going the extra mile to highlight your best work and why it matters.

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You’ll come to find that your ally advocates for you and sometimes speaks up when you do not have the capacity to defend yourself. It’s a “we ride at dawn” type of energy.

It’s very easy to spot an ally by the way they naturally advocate for other people.

In return, though they never explicitly ask for anything in return, you’d jump at the opportunity to put in a good word for them.

2. The Mentor

A mentor provides the roadmap for the journey ahead, offering wisdom across various pillars of life, from your finances to your personal growth, because they’ve walked a similar path before.

Having that roadmap means you aren't just guessing. You’re moving faster. You’re avoiding common pitfalls. You’re making informed choices based on a broader perspective.

You may have multiple mentors at one time.

3. The Academic Advisor

In graduate school, an advisor is often the Principal Investigator (PI) on your project. Their role is primarily functional. They are there to help you choose the right classes, highlight funding opportunities, and ensure that you meet graduation requirements.

While these relationships can transition into mentorship, it isn’t a given.

In undergraduate studies, this is even more primitive. You may only meet with your academic advisor once or twice a year for a reality check.

The Reality Check

Many people mistakenly expect their academic advisor to be their mentor or their ally. While it’s absolute gold if you find all three in one person, this is rarely the case.

Understanding the difference early will save you a tremendous amount of heartache.

I know students who were crushed when they realized that their academic advisor was neither an ally nor a mentor.

This realization is usually revealed in the most critical moment. For example, when a request for a recommendation letter is met with a flat-out “no,” or worse, a negative or lukewarm letter that does more harm than good.

I think being an ally is a personal calling.

It isn’t written into an advisor’s official job description.

Finding a Mentor

In the same token, you should 100% have a mentor. You do not know everything. I guarantee you, every “successful” person has had a mentor, or still has one.

It is your responsibility to find a mentor.

How to find a mentor:

• Know where you want to go/ what you want to accomplish

• Find someone who does that thing

• Ask the right questions (because everyone isn’t cut out to be your mentor)

• Stalk (I say this lightly and in the most legal way) LinkedIn posts

• Have the courage to reach out and ask to be mentored

It is an active search. It requires you to move. Don’t let that fly over your head.

The Delicate Dance

To build these networks, you must show up to the best of your ability. It is important that you give the person the confidence to recommend you by your demeanor and/or work ethic.

It’s a delicate dance of being personable without oversharing, unless it’s your spiritual mentor.

I’ve been fortunate to find advocates and mentors who have helped me navigate the complexities of business, my environmental career path, and life. Without them, the journey would have been far more difficult, and I am eternally grateful.

I am always willing to be an ally or a mentor. If you’re looking to connect, let’s chat in the comments or find me on LinkedIn.

How did you find your most impactful mentor or ally?

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Last week, someone asked me two questions that really got me thinking…

“How did you end up in ecology? Are you happy that you chose this career?

Honestly…wow. What a loaded question!

In high school, I never imagined I’d be where I am today. I was certain I’d become a doctor. In a way, that instinct wasn’t wrong, but I had not yet understood what that path would look like.

When I started my bachelor’s degree at the University of Arkansas, I majored in Biology and was on the pre-med track. I was convinced that medical school was theeee ultimate goal. The dream, even.

By my third year, that hadn’t changed, but something else had.

I couldn’t work off campus, for reasons I might share another time, so gaining experience in a hospital wasn’t an option for me. Instead, I told myself, “I should get some research experience, just to be more competitive.”

That fall 2017 semester, I took a plant pathology class. It intrigued me. The labs were hands-on, and the class was challenging. I knew this could be an opportunity to do something interesting. So I aimed for an A on the first test, because I thought,

“Surely, you can’t refuse a student with an A in the class.”

I was right.

With my 92% in my hand, I walked up to the professor and asked her to join her lab. She smiled, and said that I should come to her office so we could talk. Needless to say…she said yes.

For the first few months, I was mostly working the autoclave, cleaning, making mediums, organizing, and labeling chemicals.

Soon after starting, Hurricane Maria hit Dominica. It was quite devastating. I remember sitting through my classes, unable to concentrate, and sitting in my apartment, with no sleep in my eyes.

I was worried about my family. My friends. My country.

After a few days, the news reaching was dreadful, and the pictures knocked the wind out of my lungs. My home, Dominica, was brown.

We -my family- lost our home, like so many others on the island. We lost the family business. And we lost people. So many people. It was heart-wrenching.

In the midst of that loss, something shifted within me.

I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that, despite contributing so little to global climate change, the Caribbean could experience devastation of this magnitude.

Picture of my dad in front of our home after Hurricane Maria.

On the international stage, we talked about the 226% loss in Gross Domestic Product (GDP). We talked about how we felt.

However, we could not adequately account for the loss of biodiversity and forest cover, and how that affected the people, land, and water.

I think quantifying these aspects was a critical component that was missing.

That gap stayed with me. I knew it mattered. I just didn’t yet know what I could do about it.

That spring semester, I got my first real taste of research.

I learned how to knock out genes using Polymerase Chain Reaction (PCR). I also looked at how the fungus, which causes rice blast disease, Magnaporthe oryzae, affects different varieties of rice.

Being in the lab, working through questions, and discovering things felt great.

Looking back, my introduction to research came at a critical time, when I was trying to figure out what life after my bachelor’s degree would look like. And quietly, something in me was beginning to wake up.

During that spring semester, I enrolled in a landscape ecology class simply because it sounded interesting. I had no idea what it really was. I just thought, “General ecology wasn’t too bad.”

Ecology can be broken down into eco, meaning nature or environment and logy - the study of or the science of. So in short, we look at how the arrangement of the environment (landscape), influences processes, organisms, and where they can live (species distribution).

Fun Fact: A waterscape could also be a landscape.

The professor, Dr. Kusum Naithani, was also quite invested in her teaching and the students who attended her class. She met with all her students one-on-one. I can’t speak for them, but in our first meeting, you could feel her warmth.

Funny story, I was afraid of her when we first met. It was her first year teaching at the University of Arkansas and my first year attending. She taught the second half of the General Ecology course that I took. I thought she was was strict…and I did not like doing homework then. Hahaha. So the math was not mathing.

Dr. Naithani reminded me of a more mature version of myself. We connected on multiple levels, and over time, she asked me a question that would stay with me:

Have you considered graduate school? Or research?

She saw something in me that I hadn’t yet recognized.

I just thought the R assignments were easy and the readings were interesting. I didn’t realize I had stepped into my zone.

Still, I had medical school on my mind.

Picture of rice blades inoculated with varying concentrations of growth-inhibited M. oryzae.

That summer, I received a scholarship to work in the plant pathology department. I conducted research on inhibiting the fungus that causes rice blast disease and presented my findings at the end of the program.

I invited Dr. Naithani to my presentation. She didn’t have to come, but she did.

After my presentation, she asked me a simple question:

“What was your favorite part about doing this work?”

That question stayed with me.

I took some time to work and reflect. I asked myself what excited me, where I saw myself, and what kind of impact I wanted to have on the world.

I kept coming back to that question about graduate school. I kept coming back to the possibility of working with Dr. Naithani, not just because she was kind (which she is), but because she’s brilliant! She doesn’t shy away from the hard stuff. Plus, the work itself felt meaningful and full of possibility.

As for graduate school… that came with its own set of challenges, pivots, and lessons.

Stories for another time.

So my answer was:

I can say that I’m genuinely happy I chose the environmental space, even though the journey hasn’t been easy. Most things worth doing rarely are.

I often describe myself as a “jack of all trades.” I’m curious by nature, always exploring, whether that’s through food, travel, data analysis, mapping, modeling, or something entirely new.

Somewhere along the way, I found my way back to my “why.”

I leaned into open data, sustainability, conservation, connecting people, and ecology. I taught myself how to process remote sensing data, among other things.

As you read this, I am on my umpteenth iteration of a scientific paper that is rooted in disturbance ecology, the very thing that first sparked something within me years ago.

In many ways, it feels like everything has come full circle, and yet it feels like my career has just begun.

Sometimes, the things that stir you most deeply - what frustrates you, moves you, or won’t let you go - are pointing you toward what truly sets your heart on fire. Pay attention. This “conviction” might be leading you straight to your purpose.

Let’s Interact!

I want to hear about your journey. Drop a comment below and let’s chat:

1. What are three words you’d use to describe your career journey?

   Mine are: Messy. Pivot. Purpose.

[Leave a comment]

We cycle through spring, summer, fall, and winter just buzzing about our lives, not necessarily stopping to ponder the meaning of it all. What is the meaning of the season and the time of transition from one to the other, literally and figuratively? Personally, my favorite time of the year is Fall.

In Fall, the days are not so long, the summer heat is in the rearview mirror, the temperature is just right, and the leaves are the most beautiful blend of colors.

The answer is quite poetic, in my opinion. Without getting too technical, the green color we see isn't from a stable pigment, meaning it breaks down easily. This pigment is called chlorophyll. It is essential because trees need it to make food and oxygen through photosynthesis.

During summer, the tree keeps producing more chlorophyll to replace the pigments that have broken down. When the days start to shorten and the temperature begins to drop, the deciduous trees say, “Maybe making this pigment is not the best idea right now.”

Side note: Deciduous comes from the word decidere, which means to fall down or to fall off. This is exactly what happens to the leaves of deciduous trees during fall. They fall off.

These deciduous trees realize that their environment is changing, so they must change as well. They hunker down and conserve their energy for the season that is more suitable for growth. They shed the weight of the leaves for winter and wait for the spring.

During that time of shutting down, the green fades, not because it was replaced, but because it was never the whole story. In the process, those orange and yellow pigments that have been in the background, silently assisting chlorophyll, become visible. In this way, the full truth looks like this:

In nature, when the seasons change, we marvel at it, at least I do. I embrace the shift. I expect it even. We understand that seasons come and go for a reason and that each season looks different, even though some things remain the same. We accept it as beautiful, natural, and necessary. Nature doesn’t resist these changes. Nature understands seasons.

But when it comes to our own lives… we don’t always do the same.

Speaking from experience, change can feel unsettling. Especially the seasons that feel like winter. I’m talking about the times of loss, uncertainty, or waiting.

A contract ends. A job is lost. Love flees. The next steps are hazy.

In a season that is supposed to bring repose, we begin to question our worth in the silence. We feel stuck, or maybe some sense of shame, hurt, disappointment, or worthlessness. Against our will, we are forced to hunker down.

We can all admit that it’s hard to see the beauty while we’re in this season.

In the morning, we jump out of bed, and it’s go, go, go… every day, not a minute to rest. We move through periods of high productivity, feeling guilty to pause because we have “so much stuff to do.”

However, we must remember that rest is essential for good fruit. Rest can be deceiving because it may appear as if nothing is happening. However, behind closed doors, we are repairing, recovering, and quietly preparing for our next season.

As I type this, I feel like I’m in my season of fall. There is a vibrant, outward expression of new motherhood. It feels fiery orange, burning with new energy. My postdoc has come to an end. I’m forced to hunker down. The green is fading, but the vibrant colors that were there all along, the passion and the zeal for life, are shining through. This season has revealed my creativity.

1. I am writing my blogs again.

2. I am producing daily vlogs.

3. I am thinking of innovative ways to communicate science.

This is the same creativity that has helped me produce fruit during my growing season. This is the same creativity that has pushed me to invent a biodiversity index and structural complexity metrics from remote sensing products.

It never left.

So today, much like the tree, the potential for fruit is still there. Like a tree preparing for winter, I am drawing inward, holding on to what matters, and letting go of what no longer serves me. It feels natural, there is less resistance now.

But then again, I have spent a lot of time observing each season in nature and in life.

I understand seasons.

In this season, I am laughing more. I am dancing wildly with my daughter in the kitchen. I am moving slowly. I am present.

Beneath the surface, there is still life. There is still growth.

So maybe it’s true…sometimes growth looks like letting go.

Maybe growth isn’t always about becoming something new.

So… I only have one question:

What season are you in?

Leave it in the comments. This is a safe space. :)

PS. I purposely did not touch on the red pigments (called anthocyanins). Scientists are still trying to figure out why some leaves make the red pigment, and others do not.

We’ve all heard the saying,

“Forests are the lungs of the earth.”

I mean, the saying has been around for about a century - no kidding. I get it, the saying covers a lot of ground here… it is memorable and simple.

Much like the lungs take in oxygen and release carbon dioxide, forests -the plants- take in carbon dioxide and release oxygen. Fun fact, they also use oxygen and release carbon dioxide, especially at night.

As an ecologist who has done most of her work in forests, I’ve had many years to sit with this idea. The more I think about it, referring to forests as just the lungs of the earth seems like a rather incomplete picture. Looking at other parts of the body can give a more complete idea of the forest. Here, I will touch on 3 other parts of the body that I can easily see the forest in.

The Spine

The forest is the spine of the world. It supports about 80% of plants and animals that live on land. Trees within forests provide structure that allows animals to occupy different parts of the forests. You can think of this as different people living in an apartment building - if those people were wild animals (because we are classified as animals). In this apartment, we would have deer on the ground floor, lizards in the middle, and birds on the top floor. This is an oversimplification of a phenomenon called vertical stratification. This is something I talk a little bit about in my paper on structural complexity and biodiversity.

The Liver

Forests are the liver of the earth. The liver performs many important functions in the body. One of the main functions is to filter impurities from the blood. If there is a body of water moving through a forest, it doesn’t just pass through unchanged. It gets cleaned. The soils in the forest trap pollutants. The microbes (those tiny organisms that you cannot see with the naked eye) in the soil break down many impurities, and roots absorb and store excess nutrients.

The Brain

Just like the brain has many neural connections that communicate with each other and tell the body how to function, a forest operates in the same way. Both are very complex. You can think of the forest as a series of networks, including trees, fungi, animals, soil, microbes, and much more. They are all interacting, silently exchanging signals and redistributing resources. As I show in my research, complexity doesn’t come from one point; it emerges from all of these connections between soil, plants, and animals.

Another key function of the brain is emotional regulation.

Forests are like our personal AC units. They play an important role in regulating the temperature. But here’s the part that feels less scientific, but is quite the opposite. It is just as real as the former.

When you step into a forest, something changes.

Your thoughts slow down.
Your breathing deepens.
And the noise fades.

This is no accident. Our brains respond to our environment. It is well supported that Nature has a positive effect on your mental and physical health.

I don’t know about you, but when I am at home deep in the rainforest of Dominica on a hike to Middleham Falls - don’t mind me, I’m reminiscing right now - the world around me quiets down, and all my troubles fade away.

Image of my beautiful view while hiking to Middleham Falls, Dominica, Caribbean Sea

Forests aren’t always stable, oxygen-positive systems. Like a damaged liver, a collapsed lung, a unregulated brain, or an injured spine, sometimes, the forest loses its ability to function as it normally would. Disturbances can be a nuisance if they are too frequent or too extreme. In defeat, the forest lets out many huge sighs, a sign of distress, releasing more carbon dioxide than oxygen.

So it makes sense that we should protect and care for these systems as we would our own body. Cutting down our forests is like removing vital organs and expecting the body to function.

We are removing the liver and expecting purity, the lungs and expecting clean air, the spine and expecting stability, or the brain and expecting regulation and a peace of mind. It is quite simply, a bogus ask.

Forests are complete living systems that, when not stressed or in a changing season, filter, regulate, connect, and stabilize life in and around it.

Maybe the reason forests bring us peace isn’t just aesthetic. Maybe it’s not just because “nature is nice,” or in my case, “trees are beautiful.” Maybe it’s because we’re stepping into a system that is doing exactly what we wish our own minds could do:

Balance.
Regulate.
Hold complexity without collapsing… on its good day. :D

How do you think about the forest? Let me know in the comments.