The concept of nature has never been a fixed idea.
This concept or idea has evolved over millennia, shaped by religion, philosophy, science, and everyday life. Our understanding of nature has always reflected how we relate to life, to the divine, and to the land beneath our feet. One of the most enduring and intimate ways humans have engaged with nature is through farming and the cultivation of plants. Agriculture is not only a means of survival—it is a cultural and spiritual relationship with the living earth.
In many indigenous cultures, nature is alive, conscious, and sacred. The earth is not a mere resource but a relative—Mother Earth—who feeds and nurtures all life. In such worldviews, farming is a reciprocal relationship, not just an act of extraction. Among the Pueblo peoples of the American Southwest, for example, farming is a deeply spiritual act tied to cycles of ceremony, rainfall, and prayer. Corn is not only food but a sacred being. Seeds are honored, planting is ritualized, and harvests are celebrated with gratitude. Nature, life, and God—or the gods—are inseparable.
In ancient polytheistic cultures, deities of fertility and agriculture played central roles. The Mesopotamian goddess Inanna, the Egyptian god Osiris, and the Greek goddess Demeter were all associated with the fertility of the land. Their myths explain the seasons and the mysteries of plant growth. Nature, in these stories, was not only alive—it had moods, rhythms, and divine laws. To farm successfully meant aligning oneself with the gods and their cycles. Life depended on knowing when to plant, when to harvest, and how to honor the forces of growth and decay.
With the rise of monotheistic religions like Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, nature was no longer seen as divine but as God’s creation. In the Hebrew Bible, God gives Adam and Eve the Garden of Eden, charging them to “work it and take care of it.” The land is a gift, and humans are stewards. Later, however, the idea of dominion—“subdue the earth and have dominion over it”—led some to interpret nature as subordinate to human needs. Agriculture in this context was framed as a form of divine responsibility, but also as a way to bring order to a wild and fallen world.
The Agricultural Revolution transformed humanity’s relationship to nature. As humans moved from foraging to settled farming, they began reshaping landscapes on a large scale. Nature was gradually domesticated—plants bred, soils tilled, rivers diverted. Farming was no longer purely aligned with nature’s rhythms; it began to impose new ones. This transformation accelerated with the Scientific Revolution and Enlightenment. Thinkers like Francis Bacon and René Descartes promoted the idea that nature could be measured, understood, and controlled. Agriculture became a science. The land was viewed as a machine to be optimized, and plants as units of production.
However, this mechanistic view was not universal. The Romantic movement, which arose in reaction to industrialization, revived the idea of nature as a source of wisdom and spiritual insight. Writers like Goethe and Thoreau saw farming not as domination but as partnership. Thoreau, in Walden, cultivated beans not just for food but to cultivate his soul. The soil became a teacher again—alive, mysterious, and sacred.
In the 20th and 21st centuries, environmental thinkers and organic farming movements have further redefined the relationship between nature and agriculture. Figures like Wendell Berry, Vandana Shiva, and Masanobu Fukuoka have emphasized that healthy farming must begin with respect for the land. They reject the industrial model in favor of regenerative practices that honor biodiversity, soil health, and community. In their vision, nature is not an obstacle to overcome but a living system to work with.
Ecology and spiritual ecology have helped restore an ancient understanding: that to grow food is to participate in a sacred cycle of life. The rise of permaculture, biodynamic farming, and indigenous land stewardship are modern expressions of this ancient wisdom. Seeds are again seen as sacred; soil is valued as living; farming becomes a form of prayer, a daily dialogue with the Earth.
In this context, the concept of nature merges with life, spirit, and sustenance. Whether seen as a divine creation, a biological system, or a sacred presence, nature remains the foundation of all that grows. Farming, at its best, is not only about feeding bodies—it is about feeding relationships: between humans and the earth, between seasons and seeds, and between the material and the spiritual.
The development of the concept of nature is thus also the story of how we have learned—and forgotten, and are learning again—how to live in partnership with the soil that sustains us.