Nurturing Earth

Hello, I'm Ali

Ecopsychology practitioner, therapeutic horticulture educator, permaculture designer, anthropologist, writer, cancer survivor, neurodivergent parent—and student of what it means to cultivate resilience when life doesn't cooperate with our plans.

This Work Began Before I Knew Its Name

Nurturing Earth didn't start as a business plan. It started as survival.

As a mother of young kids burned out from trying to care for my children, the world, the future world of my children -all without 'a village' to hold me - I found myself called to the garden. Not as escape, but as relationship.

In the soil, I remembered how to exhale. I wasn't just growing food; I was growing steadiness, re-learning slowness, listening to rhythms deeper than my own anxiety. My hands in the earth became a quiet, necessary, reciprocal kind of healing.

I began to understand what I'd studied years before in my anthropology research on trauma and displacement: that healing happens in relationship—with place, with community, with the more-than-human world that holds us even when we can't hold ourselves.

Then came cancer. An unexpected rupture in 2022 that didn't start this work, but clarified its urgency. The climate crisis became unbearably personal. The fragility of life, undeniable. The journey taught me that resilience isn't about bouncing back to who you were before. It's about adapting, accepting feedback, finding beauty in the imperfect body and the imperfect world.

And it confirmed what I already suspected: the work of healing ourselves and healing the earth aren't separate projects. They're the same work, done with attention and care.

The Question That Shapes Everything

In this era of personal, social and environmental crises, how can we build resilience and act?

The answer, I believe, begins with connection. With noticing. With the radical act of slowing down enough to let the living world reach you. And in reconnecting, you might just fall in love with the earth again. Enough to protect and repair it, not out of shame or emergency or catastrophizing, but out of genuine wonder. Through the ordinary miracle of a seedling pushing through soil. Through the relief of having your hands busy while your mind finally quiets.

That's the heart of Nurturing Earth: creating spaces where people can reconnect with the earth, with themselves, with each other—and discover that this reconnection itself is action, is healing, is empowerment. It is resistance against systems that demand we stay disconnected and exhausted.

What Qualifies Me for This Work

I hold an MA in Anthropology (researching trauma, displacement, and community resilience), a Diploma in Sustainable Living, Permaculture Design and Teaching certifications, and training in Therapeutic Horticulture. I've also worked as a journalist, photographer, and educator across multiple countries and contexts.

But qualifications alone don't teach you how to cultivate resilience when your body doesn't cooperate, or how to rebuild connection when systems fail you.

My lived experience with chronic illness, neurodivergence, and motherhood—alongside two decades studying how humans navigate loss, transition, and healing—shapes every aspect of this work. I understand what it means to design for limitation, to find beauty in the imperfect garden and the imperfect body, and to discover that healing yourself and healing the earth can be the same practice.

I don't claim to have it figured out. I claim to be doing the work alongside you. This work emerged from necessity—my own need to heal and reconnect—and has become an offering for others navigating similar terrain.

My Path to Here

I've been weaving the threads of anthropology, permaculture, and nature connection since encountering permaculture in Tasmania in 2008. Over the years, I've taught English to refugees, worked as a journalist across multiple continents, raised a family, built gardens in rented Melbourne homes, and written about sustainable living.

In 2024, I planted roots in Ballarat on Wadawurrung Country, where I'm building a demonstration garden and teaching space. I serve as President of the Ballarat Permaculture Guild and continue deepening my practice through training, teaching, and the daily work of tending both land and community.

What I Believe

Healing happens in relationship—with the earth, with each other, with the difficult truths we're asked to hold.
Reciprocity matters. The garden isn't just something we tend for what it gives us. We tend it because it tends us back.
You don't need to be "better" first. You don't need more energy, more knowledge, or more capacity. You just need to be willing to show up and begin.
Climate action doesn't have to mean burnout. In fact, reconnecting with the earth in ways that restore us is one of the most powerful things we can do.
Small acts matter. A compost pile. A container garden. Noticing the birds. Slowing down enough to let the season reach you. These aren't trivial. They're foundational.
Imperfection is the point. My home isn't perfect. My garden isn't pristine. My life isn't tidy. But I believe in starting where we are, tending what's ours to care for, and growing hope one small act at a time.

What I Offer

Through ecopsychology programs, therapeutic horticulture, permaculture education, and nature-based circles, I create spaces where people can slow down, reconnect, and grow something meaningful—within and around them.

My work is designed for:

People navigating burnout, chronic illness, neurodivergence, or recovery
Mothers carrying too much
Anyone experiencing climate grief, eco-anxiety, or disconnection
People who sense that conventional solutions aren't addressing what's actually broken
Those who need gentleness, not productivity hacks

2026 offerings include:

Restorative circles for mothers
Cancer wellbeing programs
Ecopsychology workshops on climate anxiety, nature connection, and reciprocal healing
Therapeutic garden design consultations
Permaculture education for children
Community food projects and skill-shares