Robin Wall Kimmerer has written an extraordinary book, showing how the factual, objective approach of science can be enriched by the ancient knowledge of the indigenous people.

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teaches us about thankfulness, gratitude and how often we take these wonderful things in nature for granted. These cookies help provide information on metrics the number of visitors, bounce rate, traffic source, etc.

Robin Wall Kimmerer presents a perhaps radical view to those of us living so single-mindedly in the modern world. In the same chapter, Kimmerer explains that the significance of sweetgrass according to this myth is that it is believed to be the first plant to grow on earth.

This word is used frequently in Kimmerer's 32 essays, and it echoes in my heart and mind days after reading the collection. Kimmerer blends her scientific background as an ethno-botanist with Potawatomi Tradition Ecological Knowledge in an astonishingly poetic book. In increasingly dark times, we honor the experience that more than 350,000 readers in North America have cherished about the book-gentle, simple, tactile, beautiful, even sacred-and offer an edition that will inspire readers to gift it again and again, spreading the word about scientific knowledge, indigenous wisdom, and the teachings of plants. Aside from the love of nature the writing possesses, it also stresses the importance of independent thought and academic originality in the face of overwhelming conformist data and rigid thinking. I read this book with a roomful of Indigenous students, most of them women, and we all had problems with how Kimmerer represents Indigenous oral tradition, ceremonial knowledge, and the Indigenous experience in contemporary American society.

I felt euphoric inhaling the intense fragrance, and truly understood why the author would name a book after this plant. For more details, please consult the latest information provided by Royal Mail's International Incident Bulletin. We carefully rebuild land as indigenous, where nonhuman beings are subjects, not objects, and where humans have humility to not be the sole drivers (thus, listening to the wisdom and stories of the nonhuman beings that are our elders on the land).

It definitely makes me more aware of my impact on the earth and to consider what I give and take from my environment. She is a realist with a unique perspective that provides more than just dos and don'ts for 'fixing' our climate crisis. But just two stars for the repetitive themes, the disorganization of the book as a whole, the need for editing and shortening in many places.

In reflections that range from the creation of Turtle Island to the forces that threaten its flourishing today, she circles toward a central argument: that the awakening of ecological consciousness requires the acknowledgment and celebration of our reciprocal relationship with the rest of the living world. Based on the anecdotes she shares about her background, she definitely comes across as not growing up Indian, as much of what she recounts signifies an abundance of white privilege. I read this book on the night of the election and the morning after, and many moments in the weeks that have followed, a tonic against waves of despair.In a world where only six percent of mammalian biomass on the planet now comprises of wild animals, I longed for books that pressed me up against the inhuman, that connected me to an inhuman world. While I was listening to it on my daily walks, it caused me to see the world in a new light, which is something I think all good books will do.