Across the spectrum of human myth, few figures are as timeless and transformative as Natura, the goddess of the natural world. Neither bound by borders nor erased by the tides of time, she has been sculpted by the hands of countless cultures, each imprint revealing humanity’s evolving relationship with the Earth. From her earliest incarnation as a primal force of creation to her modern embodiment as a symbol of ecological resistance, Natura’s story is a mirror reflecting our deepest fears, hopes, and hungers for harmony with the planet.
Ancient Whispers: The Cradle of Natura
In the dawn of civilisation, Natura was not a goddess but the goddess—the singular, all-encompassing mother. Carved into the stone of Çatalhöyük 8,000 years ago, her form emerged as a robust fertility deity, breasts spilling over with the promise of harvests, snakes coiled at her feet as symbols of renewal. Early agrarian societies, dependent on the caprices of seasons, saw her as both benevolent and terrifying: a force to be appeased with offerings of grain and song. She was the Sumerian Ninhursag, the Egyptian Isis nurturing the Nile’s floods, and the Roman Tellus, her body fertile and forgiving. In these myths, Natura was intimacy itself—a living, breathing entity whose moods dictated the fate of villages.
Medieval Shadows: The Hunted Muse
As patriarchal religions rose, Natura’s image fractured. Christian scribes, wary of her pagan roots, recast her as a seductress or a heretic. Witches—women accused of communing with her—were burned at the stake, their supposed magic tied to her untamed forests and lunar cycles. Yet, in folklore, she endured as the Hag of the Wood, in the forms of The Cailleach and Beira.
Industrial Amnesia: The Conquered Queen
The 18th and 19th centuries saw Natura’s greatest disempowerment. As steam engines roared and factories belched smoke, she became a resource to be tamed. Painters like Caspar David Friedrich romanticised her landscapes, but industrialists reduced her to timber, soil, and profit. In this era, she was a “wild” thing—dangerous, primitive, and in need of civilisation. Yet even here, seeds of rebellion sprouted. Romantic poets like Wordsworth and Blake invoked her as a moral compass, a balm for souls scorched by progress.
Modern Renaissance: The Awakening
The 20th century’s environmental awakening resurrected Natura as a symbol of unity and urgency. Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring (1962) echoed ancient truths: that her body is interconnected, and harm to one thread unravels the whole. Activists adopted her imagery—protesters stood before chainsaws with “Mother Earth” banners; Greta Thunberg’s fiery speeches resonated with her ancient call to balance. In pop culture, she evolved into a multifaceted icon: the wise druidess in The Mists of Avalon, the vengeful force in eco-horror films, and the pixelated guardian in video games like Journey.
Today: The Unyielding Pulse
Now, in an age of climate collapse and synthetic frontiers, Natura’s mythology grows more complex. She is no longer just a victim or a muse, but a collaborator in reinvention. Indigenous movements revere her as ancestral knowledge, encoded in salmon migrations and medicinal plants. Scientists speak of her in data—carbon cycles and biodiversity metrics—while artists reimagine her as a hybrid being, part human, part machine. In the Amazon, activists call her Pachamama; in Tokyo, netizens weave digital shrines to her. Yet her core remains unchanged: a reminder that to destroy her is to unravel ourselves.
A Future Weaving
Natura’s story is unfinished, a living hymn to adaptation. She has weathered witch trials, industrial revolutions, and ecological despair, emerging each time as a testament to resilience. To gaze upon her shifting forms is to confront humanity’s paradox: we have always relied on her, yet again and again, forgotten her name. Perhaps her greatest power lies not in her myths, but in her capacity to teach us—to remind us that we are not her masters, her martyrs, or her muses, but her children, forever entwined in her verdant, chaotic, sacred embrace.
In the end, every drop of rain, every crack in the desert, every defiant seedling bursting through concrete is her whisper: Adapt. Endure. Remember.
Worldwide Temple of Aurora 