The Sacred Dialogue: A Conversation with Mother Nature

Not every conversation is meant to be productive. Some are meant to be sacred.

A sacred dialogue is an intentional exchange where both people slow down, listen deeply, and treat the interaction itself as meaningful. It’s not about fixing, solving, or even understanding fully. Instead, it’s about presence. It’s about witnessing. It’s about honoring whatever is showing up—whether that’s grief, hope, uncertainty, or simple human connection.

When we enter a sacred dialogue, we treat both the words spoken and the silences in between as valuable. We listen with our hearts, not just our ears. We trust that the conversation itself can become a space for healing.

Sometimes sacred dialogue happens between two people. Sometimes it happens between you and the natural world. Sometimes it’s simply between you and yourself.

This sacred dialogue was shared between Mother Nature and I at the edge of a pond created by beavers. I sat nestled in a bed of ferns, watching the dragon fly and water bugs flit around.

As you read the dialogue that follows, I invite you to slow down. Breathe. Let this be a space where words are not just exchanged, but received.

Let the conversation be sacred.

Italics: Mother Nature, in the voice of Grandmother Willow, Pocahontas.
Bold: Marie

Dear Mother, is there anything you wanted me to know? About myself? My life? My work? The world?

Yes, child, there is much I want you to know, but you must be ready to hear it. Are you ready?

Yes, Mother. I am ready.

There is much pain in the world. Pain among the creatures and beings. Much of this pain is caused by your kind – by humans – why is this, child? Why have they forgotten about me?

I know, Mother, I’m sorry. I know that many have forgotten about how you nurtured them when they grew. How you provided what they needed, even when they took too much. They have forgotten how to love you, and have forgotten that you love them.

Yes, child. Yes, they have forgotten. Have you?

No, Mother. I have not forgotten. I honor you every day. With the clouds as they pass by. With the bees as they buzz. When I water my flowers and plants…I think of you. I think of the gifts you give everyday that make my life better. I’m sorry, Mother. I am both saddened and angered by how you are treated.

Thank you, child, for loving me. The trees. The flowers. The bees. But your love alone will not sustain me. I am dying child, right before your eyes.

Yes, Mother, I see what is happening to you and I’m trying to help. Is there anything else you want me to do? Can you guide me?

Yes, child, I will guide you; but it is in your power to take action. For the words I will share are not new to you. I know they weigh heavy on your heart.

Okay, Mother. Tell me.

You must continue this work, child. The work of reconnecting the lost souls back to me. Help them find a way. It’s not an easy task, child, but I know and trust that you know it’s worth it. The hardest parts of life always are worth it. Fighting for me is worth it. Not because I’m afraid to die; I’m not afraid, child, I have been dying for a long time. I am waiting to be reborn. The cycles of the seasons show us that for there to be life, there must also be death. I know you know this, child. Deep in your heart, your soul. I know you will always love me, child, just as I have always loved you.