In my last post, I talked about how spirituality as a whole is undergoing a massive transformation — a death and rebirth — as the old structures of religion collapse under their own weight. As that crumbling accelerates, many people are waking up to the need for something deeper, something real. But rebuilding true spiritual connection means we have to start from the most basic, most essential principle: oneness.
Today, I’m writing this from the woods — sitting on a small patch of earth in a local wildlife management area and nature preserve. It’s close to home. This is how I spend every free moment I have, which is at least every weekend: Simple. Unfancy. Exploring the kind of places that remind us the world doesn’t need our permission to keep breathing, growing, and existing. It just is.
And sitting here, letting the breeze move through the trees and the insects sing their afternoon songs, it hit me:
Most people have no idea what real oneness with nature even means anymore.
Nature Isn’t Something You “Go Around” — It’s Something You Belong To
Despite what countless “gurus” and “spiritual teachers” might claim — despite the endless mantras about grounding and connecting and vibrating higher — most people aren’t truly living in oneness with nature. They’re living around it.
They build their lives by working around the trees, the seasons, the storms. They pave over the soil. They control the climate inside their homes. They see the wild as something to be conquered, tamed, avoided — or consumed for convenience.
And the truth is, if you’re trying to build your life by going around nature, you’re not where these teachers are telling you that you are. You haven’t found oneness. You haven’t even found balance. You’ve just learned to rebrand avoidance as enlightenment.
Real oneness isn’t something you perform. It’s something you surrender to. It’s a way of walking the earth as a guest — not a god.
The Lie About Materialism (And the Truth)
There’s another lie buried in a lot of modern “spiritual” conversations too: That having anything material at all makes you materialistic. But the truth is, it’s not what you have that defines your heart’s posture. It’s what you believe you’re entitled to.
Materialism isn’t owning a pair of boots. Materialism is believing the earth owed you the leather. Materialism isn’t drinking from a cup. Materialism is believing you have the right to strip the rivers dry and poison them for more cups.
You can live simply, own a few modern tools, and still be deeply aligned with nature — if those tools serve your life in balance with the earth, rather than being instruments of your escape from it.
Gratitude is the difference. Humility is the difference. A relationship of respect instead of extraction is the difference.
Consuming Nature Destroys More Than the Earth
When humanity decided nature was a resource to be plundered instead of a partner to live alongside, it didn’t just kill ecosystems. It killed something inside us too. It severed the sense of belonging that once tied us to the seasons, the soil, the stars.
It robbed us of awe. It robbed us of reverence. It robbed us of the ability to feel at home in the world without needing to dominate it. And now we walk around building artificial worlds to shelter ourselves from the very life-force that was once the foundation of our souls.
It’s no wonder so many people feel lost.
You can’t heal the soul while living in opposition to the soil.
The First Step Back to Real Spirituality
Sitting here today, under the trees, with a few snacks in my backpack and dirt on my jeans, it’s clear: The first step in rebuilding real spirituality isn’t about learning a new philosophy. It’s about remembering an ancient way of being. It’s not about “manifesting” better things. It’s about participating — humbly, quietly, gratefully — in the miracle that already exists around you.
You don’t need to go looking for oneness. It’s already here. You just have to stop pretending you were ever separate to begin with.
Closing Thoughts
And maybe that’s the real invitation now — to sit still, to eat a simple meal under the sky, to listen to the wind through the trees without needing to turn it into a metaphor, and to remember:
You belong to the earth.
And she has always belonged to you.
You just forgot for a while.
It’s time to come home.
The Twin Tree Project 