To forget how to dig the earth and to tend the soil is to forget ourselves

To forget how to dig the earth and to tend the soil is to forget ourselves — this is a profound truth that resonates far beyond the simple act of farming or gardening. It touches the very core of our existence, our connection to the natural world, and the rhythms that have shaped humanity since time immemorial. When we lose touch with the earth beneath our feet, we sever a vital bond that nourishes not only our bodies but also our souls.

From the earliest days of human civilization, the earth has been our provider, our sustainer, and our home. Our ancestors learned to cultivate the soil, to coax life from the barren ground, and in doing so, they established a sacred relationship with nature. This connection was more than utilitarian; it was a source of identity, purpose, and belonging. The soil was a living entity to be respected and cared for, a partner in the cycle of growth and renewal. To dig the earth was to participate in a timeless dialogue between humanity and the land — a dialogue that acknowledged our dependence on the natural world and our responsibility to protect it.

Forgetting how to tend the soil means forgetting this dialogue. It means distancing ourselves from the very source of life and sustenance. It is an act of disconnection, not only from nature but from the wisdom embedded in the soil itself. The earth holds memories — of seasons past, of ancient plants and creatures, of the cycles of birth, death, and rebirth. When we lose the skill and the knowledge to work the land, we lose access to this living archive. We forget the patience required to nurture growth, the humility to accept nature’s unpredictability, and the gratitude owed to the earth’s generosity.

In a modern world dominated by concrete and technology, the ease of forgetting how to dig and tend the soil reflects a larger crisis of alienation. Many have become strangers to the origins of their food, the texture of the earth, and the slow, nurturing process that brings forth life from dust. This forgetfulness is not just about lost skills; it is about losing a part of ourselves — our sense of groundedness, our appreciation for the interdependence between all living things, and our awareness of life’s fragile balance.

To reclaim the knowledge of the earth is to reclaim ourselves. It invites us back into the natural cycle, to listen deeply to the whispers of the soil, to feel its richness in our hands, and to understand our place within the ecosystem. It is a reminder that we are not separate conquerors of the land but humble participants in a grand, interconnected web of life. In tending the soil, we cultivate patience, resilience, and reverence — qualities essential not only for farming but for living fully and consciously.

Thus, to forget how to dig the earth and tend the soil is ultimately to forget who we are at our deepest level. It is to lose sight of the roots that anchor us to the planet and to the lineage of countless generations who depended on the earth’s gifts. It is a call to remember, to reconnect, and to renew the sacred bond between humanity and the living soil beneath our feet, for in that relationship lies the essence of our identity and the future of our world.