How one simple question about a backyard weed revealed a radical new story—and a path toward regenerative living for eco-conscious families.
What if our culture wasn’t built on conquest, consumption, or control—but on love?
In this special feature from the upcoming One Cause book, we explore the concept of Priya Culture—a regenerative, reverent, and relational way of living. It might just be the key to remembering what the Earth has always known and shared with us…if we’d only been listening.
A Whisper from the Weeds
I never expected a weed to whisper the name of a culture.
But that’s what happened—well, sort of—during a conversation about ground-ivy (aka creeping Charlie), a plant known for its persistence and its tendency to spread in places gardeners might not want it.
I was wondering whether to let it run wild in our future food forest. It wasn’t a strictly botanical question. It was one of relationship. Of invitation.
And then, something clicked. Or maybe it bloomed.
As I reflected on the nature of this tenacious plant—uninvited but not unwelcome—I asked ChatGPT what to make of it. And from that thread of inquiry, a new word emerged:
Priya — Sanskrit for beloved. Dear one. That which is cherished.
Instant resonance. It wasn’t just a pretty word. It felt like the name of something I’d been circling around for quite some time. The kind of culture we could be creating. The kind of future the Earth has always loved.
I took it into meditation. I listened. I remembered.
And what came back was this:
Priya Culture is not something new. It’s something ancient and sacred that’s trying to be remembered.
This article is about that remembering.
What Is Priya Culture?
Priya Culture is a conscious, regenerative way of life rooted in love, reverence, and reciprocity with all beings.
It invites us to live as if the Earth were our beloved—not a commodity, not a resource, not a backdrop—but a sacred partner in the great dance of life.
It asks us not to abandon progress, but to redefine it.
Not to feel guilty, but to walk with grace.
It’s not about perfection. It’s about participation. Alignment. Intimacy.
A Priya Culture is one where we:
See the sacred in the soil.
Listen to the wind like it has something to say (because it does).
Understand that compost is not waste but alchemy.
It’s both mystical and practical. Rooted in the rhythms of nature. Guided by story. Held in community.
Core Values of Priya Culture
Sacred Interconnection – All beings are woven into a web of mutual belonging.
Sufficiency as Sacred – Enough is a feast. Simplicity is a form of devotion.
Reciprocity over Extraction – Giving back sustains the whole.
Stewardship, Not Ownership – The Earth is not a possession, but a trust.
Belovedness of All Beings – Every creature and element is kin.
Intergenerational Wisdom – Children, elders, ancestors, and future ones all have a voice.
Living by Story and Ritual – We remember who we are through ceremony, through myth.
Regeneration as Default – Healing is the fruit of right relationship.
Myth: The First Rememberers
(This short myth serves as emotional anchoring—a timeless remembering from a village that could have been ours.)
Long before asphalt covered the ground and clocks governed the day, there was a time when humans and Earth spoke the same language. Not just of words, but of water and wind, fire and seed. In that time, the people lived in circles, not straight lines. They measured time by the moon’s changing face and the migration of birds. And they remembered: all life was kin.
In one such village—nestled where the river bent like a cradle and the trees whispered lullabies into the sky—a child named Amani was born. Her name meant peace, but her arrival stirred a different feeling. She did not cry at birth, nor open her eyes for three days. The midwives were worried. But the village elder, a woman with hair like owl feathers and hands stained with healing herbs, simply smiled.
“She is listening,” the elder said. “She is remembering.”
When Amani finally opened her eyes, the villagers swore they saw a reflection of stars—not just the night sky, but ancient starlight, the kind that shines from the inside out.
As she grew, Amani did not speak much. But animals came to her. Plants leaned toward her. And when she walked barefoot, the earth seemed to hum beneath her feet. While other children played games of chase and pretend, Amani sat by the river with her grandmother, learning the songs of stones.
One day, the rains stopped. The river thinned. The crops failed. The elders gathered to pray, to dance, to plead. Still, no clouds came. The people began to forget. They blamed one another. They turned their backs on the rituals. They spoke of leaving the land.
That night, Amani had a dream. In it, she stood in a desert where nothing grew. A voice, older than time, whispered:
“You have forgotten the Way of Belovedness.”
She woke before dawn, walked to the village square, and lit the ceremonial fire that had not burned in many seasons. Then, in the language of her ancestors—the language of wind and root—she sang.
One by one, the villagers emerged from their homes. They didn’t understand the words, but they felt them. Something stirred.
Elders began to weep. Children sat in stillness. The wind changed.
Rain came that evening—soft, steady, enough to give the roots another chance.
From that day on, Amani taught not through lectures but through presence. She invited others to greet the sunrise, to bless the water before drinking, to speak to the seeds before planting. Slowly, a new way of life—really an ancient one remembered—began to take root.
They called it the Way of the Beloved. Others, later, would name it Priya Culture.
And from that one village, it spread—not as a law or a religion, but as a remembering.
Because something in all of us still knows:
The Earth is beloved. And so are we.
This myth, though fictional, speaks to a deeper truth—a remembering that lives in our bones. May it stir something in you, too.
Reflections and Applications
What if our days were guided not by production schedules and profit margins, but by the seasons, the cycles, and the sacred?
What if the Earth were not our property to use, but our partner to cherish?
This is the invitation of Priya Culture.
In the rhythms of everyday life, the Green family is beginning to discover what it means to live into this way of being—not as a grand gesture, but as a quiet unfolding.
Emma has started naming the trees in their backyard. Lucas is questioning his buying habits. Sarah and Daniel are lighting candles on Fridays and calling it a sacred meal. Nancy and Robert are teaching, writing, repairing, remembering.
Priya Culture isn’t something they’ve “achieved.”
It’s something they’re growing into.
And maybe that’s the point:
To grow—not toward perfection, but toward belonging. Toward belovedness.
Your Turn: Questions for Reflection
Where in your life do you already feel the whisper of this culture?
What would it look like to honor those whispers with your attention, your care, your gratitude?
What rhythms or rituals are you being called to remember?
You don’t need to start a movement. You are already part of one—if you’re listening. If you’re loving. If you’re remembering.
Priya Culture isn’t a destination. It’s a relationship. A remembering. A way of walking.
Let’s walk it together.
What does Priya Culture stir in you?
Reply in the comments or forward this to someone who’s part of your remembering. 🌿
If this article resonated, consider sharing or subscribing. This movement is made of moments—and you’re one of them.
“We are not creating a utopia. We are remembering a way of living that the Earth has always loved.”
Brad
P.S. Major step forward in sharing One Cause with the rest of the world. After months of working on the 14 points of Berret-Koehler submission guidelines, I finally completed the proposal and sent it flying to them via email. Now comes the next challenging part. Waiting patiently for weeks or months to hear back from them. Meanwhile, I will continue to write the chapters and post them here.
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