Looking to the Trees: My Story from Corporate Marketer to Naturalist
“You’re smart,” the stranger said to me. “No — you’re not smart. Sorry…I mean, you’re probably smart. What I meant to say is that you’re very wise. We don’t need more smart people in the world, you know what I mean? We need more wise people. The world needs more wisdom.”
Was I wise? I had quit my marketing job earlier this year and was crouched down along a stream near the Rose Bowl, where I was studying the plants. I was there as part of Pasadena City College’s Field Biology curriculum, eager to join a growing network of certified UC California Naturalists engaging in local climate and resource stewardship challenges.
She had seen students at this park before and was curious to know what I was doing. In between shouting her dog’s name to make sure he was not taken by coyotes, she also shared a personal predicament with me. A year ago, I would have shied away from engaging with a stranger, but it felt different this time. We spoke about setting boundaries and doing the best we can in any given moment, even if it means doing little to nothing. She thanked me and went on her way. I returned to taking field notes, forgetting about the interaction.
Moments later, I locked eyes with a coyote, just across the stream. Beneath a cool canopy of lush green willows, hidden from cars, buildings, and the outside world, I found a deep sense of peace. I’m not superstitious really, but perhaps the universe had its way of affirming my direction.
Looking Back
Up until the pandemic, I was on a trajectory to continue working my corporate marketing job until retirement. I was comfortable in this field: it’s what I studied in school and got good at working at a range of companies over the course of ten plus years. Weekdays were extremely busy, packed with back-to-back meetings from breakfast until dinner. On off-hours, separating work and personal life — as much as I wanted to — was a challenge. Work was always on my mind. I cared deeply about doing my job well, laser-focused on a goal that was ingrained in my psyche: help grow company revenue year after year.
On weekends, I loved to try new restaurants around town. At times, I would go out to enjoy nature. People may think that I was always passionate about the outdoors, but this is not true. My first toe dip into outdoor adventuring didn’t occur until 2014 when, begrudgingly, I agreed to take Sierra Club’s Wilderness Basics course with my husband. To my surprise, I relished in the feeling of being out in the fresh air, despite carrying 20% of my body weight on my shoulders. We went on to climb several mountains including Mt. San Gorgonio (11,499 feet) and Mt. Whitney (14,505 feet).
These great accomplishments pushed my limits mentally and physically — but in looking back, lacked an important element. These experiences, while rewarding, were missing a fundamental relationship between me and the land.
Winds of Change
2020: a year that brought me past the verge into tears and frustration. Where was I all this time? How was I not aware of the clear injustices that the pandemic exposed? As I crafted marketing campaigns safely from home against a backdrop of unjust suffering around the world, I realized I needed to act — but what, and how? My soul didn’t feel in the right place.
I began to read books for self-healing and for developing perspectives beyond what I was taught in school. At the beginning of this new year, I resigned from my corporate post, with not a plan but a determination to find a more meaningful path. For however much boldness it took on my end, I give my deepest gratitude to my husband and family for their support.
While I’ll share a little more, the truth is that the details of my personal journey aren’t important, as no two journeys are the same. The important part is that the first steps of the new journey were taken, and in a way that allowed me to live my own truth.
Surrendering all expectations, I made an intention to take one inspired step after another. Having developed an interest in regeneration through watching Kiss The Ground on Netflix, I signed up for their soil advocacy course. This eye-opening course inspired me to volunteer at Arlington Garden in Pasadena. Upon meeting several volunteers who were pursuing their UC California Naturalist Certifications, I earmarked the program for later in the year (now). I also jumped on the free opportunity to become a trained Climate Reality Leader and joined a few local organizations to amplify our collective voices. Along the way, I developed confidence in my unique voice and story. When opportunities arose, I spoke to public officials at local, state, and federal levels to advocate for equitable climate action.
In what may seem like a cacophonous set of events, it also seemed “meant to be” that I would land where I did.
Finding Place and Roots
My uncle was the first to label it, saying over dinner one day, “I heard about all the things you are doing, from your mother. You care about the environment. You’re an ‘environmentalist.’ Interesting.” I nodded, not sure what to make of it. Based on all that I’ve learned this year, I can’t help but ponder: Aren’t we all “environmentalists?” Is it not the “environment” that provides the very air, water, and food required for our existence?
We can read all the books, but there’s nothing quite like being out in the field and connecting directly with the very land that we live on. While I used to measure success by reaching summits, I now feel a simple, grounded joy in taking a short nature walk. I sense beautiful, inner peace when brushing my hands against my favorite aroma of Artemesia californica, stopping to watch the movement of a Red-shouldered Hawk on the branch of the magnificent Coast Live Oak, and gathering fallen pods of an invasive plant for food.
Without judgement, I greet the plants where they are and record observations. I take note of animal activity as well as human impact like concrete bridges, lawn mower sounds, and trash. I think deeply about the land, pondering the history it may have seen and where it may go from here. Perhaps most importantly, I make an intention to surrender to what I’m looking at, allowing them to observe me.
In an era where we find ourselves facing societal frameworks incompatible with a livable future, I wonder if we might ask ourselves: What could the world look like if more people developed a close relationship with the land that sustains us? What might our individual roles be? What gifts can we offer? What wisdom would our ancestors bestow on us?
While I do not have all the answers, I’m quite sure of one thing: there may be no better time than now — in this collective search for deeper meaning and purpose — to explore our own connection with the natural world. As we embark on life reimagined, I invite you to join me in envisioning ourselves as our favorite tree — grounded and nourished by Mother Earth — growing where we are and returning her love in reach of a renewal, or regeneration, of this planet we all call home.
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📖 Currently Reading | Entangled Life: How Fungi Make Our Worlds, Change Our Minds & Shape Our Futures by Merlin Sheldrake
💚 Read & Loved | Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants by Robin Wall Kimmerer
🐦On Deck | Saving Us: A Climate Scientist’s Case for Hope and Healing in a Divided World by Katharine Hayhoe
