most of us put a lot of effort into separating ourselves from nature. I'm no exception to that. we cling to technology as a substitute for the symbiotic relationship we are intended to have with the world, and live emptier and less healthy lives as a result.
I've had lengthy, sprawling conversations with a few friends about plants and fungi, our co-evolution with them, and their importance to our ancestors for their survival and as a way to connect with each other. I've also sat with the words of Mary Oliver, Robin Wall Kimmerer, Michael Pollan, Sandor Katz, Jonathan Safran Foer, and others on the subject of our fractured relationship with the world, and how it shouldn't be that way.
one of the most powerful aspects of this relationship is how we respond to the changing of seasons. every year, on December 21, we experience the longest period of darkness all year. we prepare for it: we trade out our wardrobes, light fires, and participate in traditions that encourage us to draw physically closer to others.
something about that period of darkness has been sticking with me. so I made an album about the winter solstice, how we use it as a checkpoint for personal reflection, and how technology hinders us from fully receiving many of the physical, mental, emotional and relational resources the world offers. nature is continually giving us a gift we can never fully reciprocate, but we're leaving it under the tree, never expressing gratitude, never giving any gift back.