Wild Lessons In Resilience

How Nature Grounds Us in Turbulent Times

You can tell a lot about a society's anxieties by looking at what's on television. Over the decades, pop culture has reflected public fears—Cold War alien invasions, Vietnam-era anti-war films, and, more recently, the explosion of survival and nature-based reality shows like Naked and Afraid, Survivorman, and Alone. These shows mirror our growing uncertainty about economic instability, climate change, and the fragility of modern systems.

After the 2008 financial collapse, people began questioning whether institutions could be trusted. Climate disasters made survival skills seem less like a niche interest and more like a form of resilience. Then COVID-19 hit, and our fascination with isolation, survival, and what it really takes to endure hard times deepened.

But while many survival narratives lean on fear—a battle against nature, scarcity, and even each other—Woniya Thibeault's story stands out. I interviewed Woniya, the first woman to win the Alone survival challenge, on the latest episode of the Wide Awake America podcast. Here’s a clip:

You can listen to the full episode here:

On Alone, she didn’t just endure; she thrived by partnering with the land, embracing reciprocity instead of domination. She made history as the first woman to win a solo survival challenge, not by overpowering nature but by listening to it.

Her approach struck a chord with me, not just as someone fascinated by resilience, but as an activist in Florida—a place where the political landscape has become an assault on the LGBTQ+ community, immigrants, and people of color. When your work involves fighting hate, it’s easy to live in fight-or-flight mode, cortisol surging with every news alert. But you can’t fight effectively from a place of constant panic. You need grounding. You need resilience—not the brittle, white-knuckled kind, but the deep-rooted resilience nature teaches.

Reclaiming Nervous System Sovereignty

Woniya’s philosophy—rooted in the ancient understanding that nature wants us here, that we belong—is more than comforting; it’s a survival skill for the modern world. Studies show that even brief contact with nature—touching soil, listening to birdsong, feeling the sun—calms the nervous system, pulling us out of fight-or-flight and into rest and repair. It’s not romanticism; it’s biology.

Fear shrinks our awareness. It narrows our vision, ramps up our heart rate, and makes us reactive—a state that oppressive systems exploit. Nature, on the other hand, expands our awareness. It reminds us that seasons turn, wounds heal, and life finds a way. It reconnects us to a lineage of resilience that goes deeper than any political movement.

I’ve leaned on that truth while organizing in Florida, where hateful legislation targets transgender youth, queer families, and anyone challenging white supremacy. The work is grueling, and burnout is real. But stepping outside—even into my own backyard, where an osprey calls from a live oak tree, and anoles skitter across sun-warmed walls—reminds me that resistance isn’t just about pushing back; it's about staying whole.

Nature as Rebellion

There’s an irony here: the very skills that ground us—foraging, trapping, tending the land—were historically criminalized, particularly for Black and Indigenous people. After emancipation, formerly enslaved Africans sustained themselves by foraging and trapping—so white lawmakers outlawed those practices, pulling people back into dependence and, often, into the prison system as free labor.

Indigenous land management practices—controlled burns, sustainable harvesting—were dismissed as primitive, while land left fallow was deemed "abandoned" and seized. Even today, the national park ethos of “leave only footprints” erases Indigenous stewardship, as if true connection means passively observing rather than actively tending.

But reconnecting with nature—whether through ancestral skills, community gardens, or simply noticing the changing seasons—is a quiet rebellion. It’s reclaiming what was stolen: autonomy, resilience, and the deep knowing that we belong.

Small Acts of Reconnection

You don’t need to win Alone or live off-grid to reset your nervous system. Woniya talks about “microconnections”—small acts that tether us to the earth and, in doing so, to ourselves. It can be as simple as:

• Drinking your morning coffee outside, noticing the sky.

• Keeping a leaf or stone on your desk as a touchstone.

• Learning the names of the plants on your street.

• Taking three deep breaths while standing barefoot on grass.

These moments remind us that, no matter how loud the world gets, we are part of something older, wiser, and more enduring.

Grounded Activism

For those of us working toward justice—whether fighting anti-LGBTQ legislation, defending reproductive rights, or pushing back against authoritarianism—staying grounded isn’t optional. It’s how we avoid burnout. It’s how we stay strategic, empathetic, brave, and connected.

As Woniya put it, “Self-sufficiency is a myth. None of us survive alone. True resilience comes from mutual aid, from knowing how to care for ourselves and each other when systems fail.” These aren’t just solo survival skills—they're community survival skills. Knowing how to forage, cook without power, or purify water isn’t about rugged individualism—it’s about being someone who can help neighbors in a crisis, who can steady the ship when the storm hits.

The same is true for activism. When we’re rooted—in nature, in history, in community—we’re harder to shake. We endure. We adapt. We win.

Start small if you’re feeling unmoored—by politics, personal struggles, or the relentless hum of modern life. Step outside. Breathe. Remember that resilience isn't about bracing for impact—it's about bending without breaking, like willow branches in the wind.

And if you want to go deeper, follow Woniya’s work—she teaches these skills not as doomsday prepping, but as a way to reconnect, reset, and reclaim your peace.

Visit her website and check out her online and in-person classes: www.BuckskinRevolution.com.

In a world designed to keep us fearful and divided, that kind of resilience is revolutionary.

The wild is calling—not as a place to hide or escape, but as a way back to our strong, resilient, and the ancient wisdom in our DNA.