This abundance of berries feels like a pure gift from the land. I have not earned, paid for, nor labored for them. There is no mathematics of worthiness that reckons I deserve them in any way. And yet here they are—along with the sun and the air and the birds and the rain,

inherit what is known as “a culture of gratitude,” where lifeways are organized around recognition and responsibility for earthly gifts, both ceremonial and pragmatic.

Making good relationships with the human and more-than-human world is the primary currency of well-being.

Rebecca Solnit, in her stunning book A Paradise Built in Hell, describes how gift economies seem to arise spontaneously in times of disaster.

Katherine Collins has become an outspoken architect of investment strategies that help propel us toward a circular economy.

Sustain the ones who sustain you and the Earth will last forever.

Instead of changing the land to suit their convenience, they changed themselves. Eating with the seasons is a way of honoring abundance, by going to meet it when and where it arrives.

To name the world as gift is to feel your membership in the web of reciprocity.

Our oldest teaching stories remind us that failure to show gratitude dishonors the gift and brings serious consequences.