What Does Survival Really Mean?

What does survival mean to you? Is it the ability to build a fire or construct a shelter? Or does it mean having enough money to pay the bills and put food on the table? Perhaps it’s simply having the mental capacity to get out of bed, brush your teeth, and move through the day.

For me, survival is deeper than endurance. It requires a grounded sense of self, relevant skills, the ability to work with others, and a healthy relationship with the natural world. It is cultivated through nature, community, and the quiet practice of being fully present in the body.

So, what does a deep sense of self even mean? For me, it starts with curiosity and the willingness to accept whatever arises within. If I am sad, I accept that I am sad. If I am anxious, I accept that I am anxious. If I don’t know how to express what I’m feeling, that’s okay too. When we judge ourselves or tell ourselves we should be happy, or not so sensitive, we shut ourselves down, ignore our feelings, and perpetuate dis-ease. I’ve learned that leaning into the thorn—investigating its shape—helps me move through it, letting energy release and clarity emerge.

Meditation, forest walks, gardening, reading,

and conversation have become my anchors in this practice of embodiment. The first three activities involve quiet contemplation. Sometimes I bring intent to the practice, but often, I simply go and do, without an explicit goal. I will occasionally start a conversation with myself, beginning with, “How are you doing, Renee?” The answers come as they need to, and these conversations, more ofthen than not, help me to move forward with whatever has gotten me into a pickle.

As I find greater self-acceptance and understanding, I can begin to tease out what is authentically me and what is noise. It is interesting to notice, now in my late forties, that my tolerance and blind acceptance of my role as a woman within my cultural construct is eroding. It is as if the rose-colored glasses I have worn all my life have changed hue—or perhaps more aptly, fallen to the ground, stepped on, and kicked into the underbrush to never be retrieved.

Aging into middle adulthood has also made mortality impossible to ignore: skin loosening, hair greying, memory fading. Yet, as I unravel physically, I see what has been emerging—the part of me unaffected by my reflection. That which I have long subdued, which I call my wild nature, is returning. It is oriented through the senses, ancestral knowledge, community, and nature connection—and it is crying to be heard. Let me tell you, she is howling. As I sink more deeply into my body and develop trust in what it is saying, a need for firmer boundaries is arising.

I also feel a deep desire to spend time with likeminded women. I yearn for meaningful connection in spaces where I don’t have to pretend, filter, or adhere. There is a woman on Facebook I follow who has established the “We Don’t Care Club” for women in (peri-)menopause. In addition to being highly amusing, it is a radical declaration: enough is enough. We, as women, are entitled to exist as we truly are, no longer constrained by ridiculous measurements of success—how we carry our bodies, express emotion, or manage daily tasks. I yearn to sit, explore, and play with a group of women who celebrate curiosity, adventure, and creativity.

To survive in this world, to move into a state of thriving, requires the gift of sharing with others. We Westerners are skilled at independence and isolation, yet the capacity to lean in, to truly have each other’s backs, is rarely nurtured. The antidote to this isolation is simple, yet profound: make small moves, reach out a hand, extend an invitation, and show up.

Survival, I’ve learned, is not just about enduring. It is about presence—being present with yourself and others. It is about curiosity, courage, and connection. It is about rooting into the body, grounding in nature, and returning again and again to your own inner flame. Survival is about reclaiming your wild nature, trusting your instincts, and creating spaces where joy, creativity, and authenticity can flourish. It is about choosing life, not simply as a reaction to circumstance, but as an active, embodied, and shared adventure.