Carol P. Christ’s Legacy: With Beauty Around Me

Moderator’s Note: We at FAR have been so fortunate to work along side Carol P. Christ for many years. She died from cancer in July 2021. To honor her legacy as well as allow as many people as possible to read her thought-provoking and important blogs we are pleased to offer this new column to highlight her work. We will be picking out special blogs for reposting. This blog was originally posted September 7, 2020. You can find the original post here to see the comments along with her responses.

This post was chosen to be first because it is so achingly beautiful as it speaks about joy, and healing. It truly shows Carol’s heart.

When I moved from Lesbos to Crete, I decided to take some 30 large and medium-sized handmade terra cotta pots acquired over the years along with me. As I had been living part-time in Crete for several years, most of the plants had died, but I managed to salvage freesia bulbs, chives, and cuttings from nutmeg-scented geraniums.

My friend Mavroudis helped me empty the soil into feed bags provided by a neighbor who keeps sheep. I decided to move the dirt too, as I didn’t fancy carrying numerous bags up to my apartment. The movers were not too happy about this, and by the time they were deposited higgledy-piggledy on my balconies in Crete, several of the pots were broken and the bags were leaking.

I mended the broken pots with trusty epoxy glue before I got sick, which was lucky, because, since then, I would not have been able to do it. A few weeks after arriving, I felt tired and had trouble eating. I was diagnosed with cancer and began chemo-therapy. I have little physical energy and spend much of my days resting in bed or sleeping. There are still many boxes to unpack and they can wait, but I felt the need to tend the balconies.

My apartment in Crete is a 6th floor “perch” just outside the city center walls, with views from balconies (and from inside) over rooftops to the surrounding sea, mountains, and island of Dia. The day after my first chemo, my architect sent Ali, a young Pakistani man, to help me put the pots in the places I designated and to fill them ½ to 2/3 with soil, so they would be ready for planting.

Even without plants, this made a huge difference. There were no more leaking dirt bags, and the balconies, which also held marble tables and metal garden chairs, as well as a newly created lion-faced water fountain I designed while still in Lesbos, were now usable. After I regained a bit of strength, I asked my Albanian cleaning lady Vera’s husband Eddy to take me plant shopping and to plant up my pots.

I had made a list, and despite the end of August being end of season, managed to find everything I was looking for. 3 myrtle bushes in honor of the sacred myrtle tree of Paliani, 5 lavenders, 3 grey and 2 green, a local jasmine that produces large white flowers all summer long, 2 basils, one large-leafed and one small, 2 Cretan dictamus, mint, and thyme for the large balcony. 5 miniature roses for the narrow balcony outside my bedroom and study. And for the balcony outside the kitchen, I would plant a kitchen garden with Thai basil (the one that winters over), along with parsley, sage, oregano, marjoram, rosemary, chives, purslane, and in winter, salad greens. Almost all Mediterranean natives, herbs, and aromatics. A week later we created the finishing touches: a lemon tree for the balcony with the roses, a topiary bay tree to place outside a picture window in my living room, and repairs to an antique pithos jar that would become a bird bath.

I knew surrounding myself with green life would lift my spirits, but I cannot find words to express the great joy my balcony gardens have given me. I have been rising before dawn to await the sunrise on my large balcony. When the sun comes up, I move to the kitchen balcony. There I find the mountains bathed in a rosy glow and watch pigeons fly from their sea crag beds to the mountains as they begin their day. The full moon appeared recently before setting in the morning sky. When I lie in bed, I look out on miniature roses.

I can feel beauty healing me.


Carol P. Christ (1945-2021) was an internationally known feminist and ecofeminist writer, activist, and educator.

“In Goddess religion death is not feared, but is understood to be a part of life, followed by birth and renewal.”  — Carol P. Christ 

Categories: Earth-based spirituality, Ecofeminism, Feminism, Feminism and Religion, General

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3 replies

  1. I remember this post so well…. Carol understood that beauty heals the soul…and it comforts me to know that she created such beauty around her during her illness, allowing nature in, as well as every reader… Carol’s writing encourages us to reflect upon the importance of beauty in our lives. I for one cannot live without it…I am a bear researcher and during the years of my study I would watch bears lie down facing a setting sun. It was so obvious to me that they were appreciating the time of day and the view…just yesterday I was tipping greens on the mountain for my wreaths and just appreciating the beauty of the fragrant balsam I was cutting along with the other standing trees…. the sun was setting by the time I finished – because I left this task until chores were done I was able to lean into the moment – Carol lived this kind of immediacy with her fragrant herbs, roses, sunrises…

    Liked by 3 people

  2. I remember this post, too, especially the photos of the plants. How lovely to be surrounded by greens as she was.
    Carol invited me to begin posting on FAR back in 2012, and having read her books and known her for a decade or so, I was glad glad glad to accept her invitation. This post brings back such wonderful memories. Many thanks for reposting it. Bright blessings to us all.

    Liked by 3 people

  3. Carol certainly knew how to pick remarkably talented women to join her on this blog!


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