The Concept of Nature — With Roots in New Mexico

The concept of nature has evolved throughout human history, reflecting the way we understand life, the divine, and our connection to the land. One of the most intimate ways people have engaged with nature is through farming—the act of cultivating food from the Earth. In New Mexico, where ancient Indigenous practices coexist with Spanish colonial legacies, the development of nature’s meaning is deeply rooted in a cultural relationship with land and water. Here, nature is not just scenery—it is kin, it is community, it is sacred.

In many Indigenous worldviews, especially among the Pueblo, Diné (Navajo), and Apache peoples, nature is alive and imbued with spirit. The land is not property—it is a living relative with whom humans must maintain a relationship of respect and reciprocity. Among Pueblo communities, corn is not merely a crop—it is a sacred life-giver, often referred to as the Corn Mother. Farming is carried out in harmony with natural cycles, guided by ancestral knowledge, prayer, and ritual. Nature, life, and the divine are not separate realms; they are interwoven. To plant is to pray. To harvest is to give thanks.

For centuries, these communities developed agricultural techniques suited to the high desert landscape—dry farming, terracing, and the careful storage and sharing of seeds. These practices reflect a belief that nature offers abundance when treated with humility and care. Among the Diné, hózhó—a principle meaning harmony, balance, and beauty—is a guiding value in both living and land stewardship. Farming, in this context, becomes a spiritual expression of that harmony.

The arrival of Spanish settlers in the late 16th century introduced a new layer to the relationship with nature. Catholic missionaries brought with them biblical concepts of the land as God’s creation, and man as its steward. But in New Mexico, this theology blended with indigenous cosmologies and practical realities. Spanish colonists adapted to the arid landscape by adopting and refining an ancient system of water sharing: the acequia.

Acequias—gravity-fed irrigation canals—became not only a way to sustain crops, but a way of life. Rooted in both Moorish and Indigenous irrigation traditions, acequias embody the idea that land and water are communal resources. The water is distributed not for individual gain, but according to a shared ethic of mutual care and survival. Each parciantes (water user) has a right and responsibility: to irrigate their land, to maintain the ditches, and to honor the balance between human need and ecological health.

The acequia system reveals a uniquely New Mexican concept of nature—one that merges Indigenous reverence for the Earth with Spanish Catholic ideas of divine stewardship and community responsibility. The annual limpieza (spring ditch cleaning) is more than a chore; it is a ritual of renewal, a binding of neighbors to land and to each other. In many villages, processions and prayers still accompany the release of water into the ditches after the winter’s dormancy. Nature, in this context, is not only a source of food but a sacred trust.

This deep connection between nature, farming, and spirituality continued even as modernity crept in. Industrial agriculture, pesticides, and water commodification all challenged traditional practices. But in New Mexico, many communities have resisted full-scale industrialization in favor of land-based ways of living. Movements to preserve heirloom seeds, revitalize acequias, and protect sacred sites are all part of a broader effort to sustain a respectful, reciprocal relationship with the land.

Today, New Mexico is at the crossroads of environmental, cultural, and spiritual renewal. Indigenous food sovereignty initiatives—such as those led by the Flowering Tree Permaculture Institute or the Navajo Nation Agricultural Department—aim to reconnect younger generations with traditional ecological knowledge. The Land Back movement and ongoing efforts to protect sacred landscapes like Mount Taylor (Tsoodził) and Chaco Canyon remind us that nature is not simply "out there"—it is the ground of identity, memory, and prayer.

Meanwhile, farmers along the Rio Grande continue to walk the ditches, tend their chile fields, and invoke age-old traditions that tie the health of the soil to the well-being of the community. In New Mexico, nature remains a living relationship. Farming is still a dialogue with wind and sun, with clouds and ancestors.

The broader development of the concept of nature—from sacred force to machine, from divine creation to endangered ecosystem—finds unique expression here in the high desert. In New Mexico, the land is not just where people live—it is how they live. It is story, spirit, and sustenance.

As climate change intensifies and water becomes scarcer, the old teachings take on new urgency. To see nature as alive, interconnected, and sacred is not simply a belief—it may be a path to survival. New Mexico’s cultural traditions offer not a romantic past, but a living wisdom. They teach us that farming is not the domination of nature, but a ceremony of balance. That plants are not products, but partners. And that the Earth is not a commodity—it is a gift, to be honored with every seed we sow.