In a time of great uncertainty, when the dominant culture urges us to innovate techno solutions, ask ChatGPT, and/or fix everything by ourselves, there is a deeper truth calling us back into alignment. It is the truth our ancestors once lived by and it says: We are not alone. We are not meant to figure this out by ourselves. Life knows how to guide us—if we learn how to listen.

This is the heart of the teaching shared by Peruvian ceremonial leader and long-time advisor and ally of Pachamama Alliance Arkan Lushwala. His invitation is not a call to action in the conventional sense but a call to presence, humility, and relationship. It is a call to remember the sacred art of listening—not only with the ears but with the body, the heart, and the spirit.

Arkan asks us to “remember how to receive instructions—not from other humans, but from the spirit world, from the land, from the Earth, from the sand, from the stars, from the universe... We belong to something much bigger than us, like a cell belongs to a body. And the intelligence of that body will guide that cell.”

For thousands of years, our ancestors knew how to receive instructions. They survived cataclysms—glaciations, floods, migrations—by attuning to the greater intelligence of life itself. They didn’t have degrees or cell phones. They listened—to the trees, to the stones, to the spirit that animates all things. Today, in the midst of ecological collapse and cultural disconnection, this capacity is not lost, but it must be remembered.

And the first step is to let go of the illusion that we must—or even can—figure it out on our own.

“There is good information in the mind,” Arkan says, “but it is clearly insufficient. We are in danger. We are in an emergency. And the Earth, the universe, the life that surrounds us—they hold far more wisdom than we do about how to preserve, develop, and regenerate life.”

To access this wisdom, we must quiet the noise of our personal agendas. If we come to the Earth asking only for what we want, driven by fear, ambition, or urgency, our listening will be clouded. We risk hearing only the echo of our own desires.

Arkan invites us to consider that “what gets in the way of listening is our personal agenda. It contaminates the field. It narrows what we can receive. But when we set it down—even briefly—what comes through is not just for us. It is for all of us. The Earth speaks in a language of collective care.”

Listening, then, is not something we do for answers—it is a way of living.  A practice of restoring the “we” in a world dominated by “me.” It requires slowing down and attuning—and in that pause, in that humility, something shifts. It requires a willingness to approach everything as an equal and to be changed by the encounter. To say, “Hello tree, hello cloud, hello stone. I’m sorry I forgot you. I’m here now. Can we do this together?”

It is in these moments of curiosity and true dialogue that we come back into reciprocity with the Earth—not as seekers or dominators but as collaborators who know that our purpose is to contribute our gifts in service to the flourishing of life. This is a profound antidote to the myth of individual saviorhood. The Earth does not ask us to be heroes. It asks us to be good listeners. To come back into conversation. To rejoin the circle of life with humility and respect. 

This kind of listening is not a solitary path—it must happen in community. Each of us receives different fragments of guidance. It is only when we share, witness, and weave these threads together that a coherent, collective response emerges. 

“Everybody receives a piece of the instructions,” Arkan teaches. “No one holds the whole. The full vision only forms when we bring our pieces together—not to compete or impose, but to co-create. When we do this, something alive begins to take shape in front of us. We feel it. It has a heart.”

And what is it we are listening for? Not to find solutions for our survival but to inhabit a respectful way of being human—one rooted in sacred belonging.

“What needs to change is not just our technology—it is our culture,” Arkan reminds us. “A culture of fulfillment, of reverence, of reciprocity. A culture where no one feels alone.”

To build that culture, we must learn to listen with our bodies. We will know we’re on the right path not by logic, but because we will feel it.

We can begin simply. With a stone or a houseplant or an ant. We introduce ourselves. We make offerings. We give thanks. And in doing so, we become antennas for something ancient and emergent: the original instructions that life is always offering—if we slow down, open, and remember how to hear.

Arkan offers a powerful reminder: “We don’t decide the change. We are part of the Earth, and the Earth is changing. Our task is to listen for how to participate in that change with love, humility, and deep respect.”

Let us listen and participate in this dance of change—together.

Suggested Practice

Choose a houseplant in your home and sit quietly beside it. Take a few breaths to arrive and become present. Say hello and introduce yourself—silently or aloud—and offer your attention with care. Give thanks for the plant’s presence and what they bring to your home and your life. Then simply listen. Not with your thoughts, but with your body. Notice sensations, feelings, images, or shifts in your awareness. This is not about finding answers, but about remembering how to be in relationship—with respect, humility, and reverence for all life.