Becoming One Again: Finding Myself in the Stillness of Nature

There are days when I feel like I’ve lost myself a million times. Sometimes it’s in the chaos of life, other times in the silence. Each time I pick up the pieces, I swear it’s the last, only to feel broken again. But recently, I’ve been thinking maybe it’s not about holding myself together perfectly. Maybe it’s about allowing myself to scatter, to soften, to rest in the soil of who I truly am and return, again and again, to myself.

I’ve been on a journey of becoming a better person, a more compassionate soul, someone who listens more deeply to others and to the rhythm of life. But becoming isn’t a straight path. It curves through pain, dips into darkness, and rises into clarity. And sometimes, it asks me to stop trying so hard and simply be.

So I went back to the earth.

I stepped away from the screens, the lists, the expectations, and just breathed. I walked under the trees, let the sun warm my skin, and listened not to my thoughts, but to the wind, the birds, the quiet. In those moments, I wasn’t anyone’s label. I wasn’t my trauma, or my title, or my worries. I was just… me. Whole. Small and infinite at the same time.

Being one again with nature reminded me that I don’t have to be fixed. I just have to feel. The earth doesn’t judge the fallen leaf or the scarred tree. It embraces every stage, every form of life. And maybe I need to do that too—with myself.

Healing, for me, is choosing presence over perfection. It’s finding beauty in the mess. It’s extending to myself the same compassion I try to give others. I’m still learning. Still growing. Still fumbling through forgiveness and self-worth. But I know now that losing myself isn’t the end. It’s the invitation to begin again with more honesty, more softness, more truth.

So this is me coming back home to myself, to the dirt and breath and spirit of life. I am one again, not because I’ve figured everything out, but because I’m learning to listen. To my heart. To the earth. To what really matters.